Inner Critic

“What makes you think you have anything new to say?”
“That’s not interesting to anyone but you.”
“No one’s listening to you.”

“You have no culinary training; anyone can read a recipe; you’re not doing anything anyone else can’t do.”

Here’s the thing:
That inner critic is really, really loud. It yammers on constantly, and is especially loud whenever I “put myself out there” in a vulnerable way, like with writing or starting a personal chef service. It is reinforced by every negative comment someone makes, intentional or not. It’s a hungry beast that feeds on every idea I have, sometimes turning them to bloodied corpses before they even get past vague thoughts.

I really, really fucking hate the inner critic. There are days it’s so loud, I just want to scream so I can drown it out. But then it reminds me that random screaming isn’t socially acceptable.

For as non-rule-following as I can be, my inner critic is hyper aware of what’s acceptable, what’s “normal,” and what could make me stand out in an undesirable way. I am walking proof that women absorb the messages sent in commercials, magazines, classrooms, etc. One of the loudest voices is about my weight. What the hell does weight have to do with gardening well, writing well, or trying to start a new business? Absolutely nothing, but our culture has told me that my weight makes me less-than, and that attitude creeps insidiously into every corner of what goes on in my head.

At the same time, every other part of me is shrieking, “I DON’T CARE!” If this is what other women experience, then it really isn’t so surprising that stepping outside the normal boundaries of what has been seen as acceptable has sent so many women around the bend. To look at everything society says we should be, and then reject the bits that just don’t fit, takes chasm-jumping confidence. Being ourselves, as every motivational speaker says we should be, is just not as easy as that trite, two-word saying makes it sound.

But the cost of not being who I am is too dear. And so when the inner critic gets too loud, I have to make it go away. I tell it to fuck off. (Lady-like isn’t one of the socially acceptable things I’m particularly concerned with being.) I get absorbed in something else: a book, a recipe, the garden. Idle hands aren’t only the devil’s work, they’re also a cue for that inner critic to start its monologue. The busier I am, especially if I’m doing something I love, the easier it is to tune that voice out. It may be loud when I start, but as I get more involved, the voice gets quieter and quieter, and then fades away entirely.

In a recent post on the blog Orangette, Molly Wizenberg referenced the NPR show “Invisibilia,” and an episode on fear. There is discussion of the equation that thinking + time=fear. The truth of that whacked me so hard on the head that I had to laugh. It might not be true for everyone, but it sure is for me. That fear is my inner critic doing its thing.

I didn’t look forward to this exercise in Heard’s book when I read about it this morning. Because who’s interested in reading about my emo-inner voice, right? But I decided to tell that inner voice to fuck off, and here I am.

And here’s this morning’s sunrise. Thrilled to have been awake for it.
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7 thoughts on “Inner Critic

  1. Missie

    Never are my fears so numerous or at the forefront of my mind as when my insomnia rears its ugly head. That equation makes perfect sense!
    And you are fabulous.

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  2. Lee

    Obviously Beth is much older than I am because my inner critic is a beast, particularly in a month where I’m posting writing daily. It’s brutal. Having said that, you are beautiful and an amazing cook and gardener and I love to read your writing. I believe your inner critic is a fool.

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  3. titang0415 Post author

    Yes, the posting of writing makes that sucker even louder. But I love reading your writing, too, so keep posting! And thanks for the confidence-boosting. 😊

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