The Subtle Inner Critic - Part 1

The Inner Critic is a masterful Protector. This may sound preposterous. After all, the Inner Critic can be rather obnoxious - even harmful - in its approach. The relentless judgement, stream of insults, and bodily discomfort that often arise with the Inner Critic feel anything but protective.

But we must remember that it was forged from the belief that the hammering of such tough love will eventually result in desirable behavior, thought, or appearance. The Inner Critic did not get the memo that most of the scientific community has long rejected that such self-flagellation will actually help people who are already suffering. 

A clue about this miscue may be found in the voice itself. Does your Inner Critic manifest in the voice of an older relative - a parent, older sibling, a teacher from another generation? Or has it taken on other traits of someone who mistreated you in the past? 

As we contemplate our own values - for example, the kindness we would show a friend when they were hurting - we can see that this critical voice might not even be ours. And yet, here it is - yammering on in the mind. Or maybe it’s pre-verbal, originating before we could speak, and now manifests as physical discomfort. A sticky goo that slows down our movements, or keeps us frozen. Regardless of how we have internalized it, the Inner Critic very much is ours - it’s lodged deep within our bodies and minds.

When we ask the Inner Critic how long it’s been with us, we usually find it has been from an early age. Perhaps we can identify the first time we heard from it - maybe related to some incident we would not like to experience ever again. This could range from a harsh teacher publicly humiliating us, a subtle preference shown to a sibling by a parent, or a time we cried as little ones do and we were scolded.

And herein lies the crux of the issue - the diabolical paradox that the Inner Critic in all its harshness is protecting us from repeating these experiences. It does not grok that we have grown out of the behavior, that the teacher died years ago, that we have been reassured by our loved ones, or that we have come to understand that love is an inside job and we are able to take care of ourselves now. It doesn’t know the danger is over, it only works in the dependable fashion of a droid - beep, boop, beep…scold, rinse, repeat. “Protect him!” “Keep her hidden!” “Don’t let anyone see them, surely it will be unbearable…”

So we isolate ourselves. Because while the Inner Critic is droning on like an incurious and cheap bot, we haven’t learned yet to recognize that this is merely a voice, an assemblage of discursive thoughts and fixed beliefs, that only knows how to criticize or make us small. And we listen to it because we think it’s us. That these voices, the messages, the thoughts, the sensations - they are us.

This is a false view. With some inquiry into the mind - specifically, the mind before thought, we see that there is something much more vivid, more sparkling, more alive. Something unbroken, where mental anguish hasn’t gained traction, and never will. This is essential to who and what we are, and when we encounter this Self in all its vastness, we see that the Inner Critic and all the other Protector parts that serve on the same committee (like the Perfectionist) are just younger parts that are running a series of scripts. They run in the background in the form of fleeting thoughts and sensations, and we notice that although the content may vary with circumstance, the same themes run through them all.

When we look directly at these thought forms and ask the critic “Who are you criticizing?”, we begin to defuse from the thoughts and move into a more open, spacious, and neutral valence. Balanced. An immovable, unshakeable mountain. We might even be able to laugh at the absurdity after we practice with it for a while. And yes, it does take practice. This voice has been around a minute.

Our thoughts are not who we are; thoughts are passing clouds on a summer day, or thundering horses passing by the grandstand in the big race. They arise, abide for a time, and fall away to whatever cosmic pinball machine in the sky from whence they came. Watch your thoughts - notice the ones that come up randomly, like turning the dial on an old radio. Or swamp gas, bubbling up from mysterious substrates. Suspect these outright. They are habitual, and possibly not even yours.

Now, experiment with thinking volitionally - think, “I hear these sounds in my mind.” Or, “I’m noticing a wave of sensations came up when this memory arose.” This voice - modulated, observant - is you. It is the core Self whose characteristics include the intelligence of Curiosity, the spaciousness of Compassion, the strength of Calm, the wisdom of Clarity, the discipline of Courage, the relaxation of Confidence, the spontaneity of Creativity, and the joy of Connectedness. These “5 C’s” are the birthright of every person. They are our natural state - before our conditioning and trauma took hold.

This is the voice to engage in working with the critic, so allow your Core Self to ask the Inner Critic what it needs. How long it’s been around. What its job is. What would happen if it didn’t have this job to do. Listen to what it says - the answer may surprise you, and there is always wisdom to be found in our parts if we become receptive. This is a subtle practice, and it helps to give the answers some time to arise. Be still and allow it to manifest.

If you find Inner Critic active when you’re not inquiring with it in the method described above, compassionately ask it to step aside for a while. Because most likely, it’s being disruptive and not helping. If you’re reading this, it’s likely the Inner Critic isn’t adding much value at this point. The lessons have been learned, and relearned. Now, you have a choice in how you engage. You have a choice in the way you adapt after making mistakes.

With your Core Self at the helm, now you can simply move forward, letting the past go, open and curious about what is next. The Inner Critic wants to keep us frozen, paralyzed, invisible so that we don’t get hurt again. The invitation is there to keep moving, releasing, accepting, opening to what is - without the joy being sucked out of every aspect of life.

But first, pay homage to your former master, who worked hard, if unskillfully, to shield you from harm: “Thanks for your help in trying to keep me safe, Inner Critic. You can stick around - I know you will - but you will no longer dominate the conversation.”