Self-Criticism - A Different Take
Browse the self-help aisle at the bookstore, or comb through the online material about self-esteem, and you'll mostly find advice on how to take "conscious control of your self-talk," to stop negative self-statements and replace them with affirmations, to love yourself, to conquer this or that experience, etc.
In an earlier post, I discussed why such verbal techniques don't work, but even for those people who do find them valuable, I'd like to suggest a different way of approaching this issue.
These other techniques tend to view "negative self-statements" as if they were something almost alien to the person: internalized parental criticism we must identify and reject; perfectionistic standards imposed upon us by advertising, our peer group, society at large; mental tape loops that reflexively repeat horrible things about us, almost like a critic-virus implanted in our brains.
Instead, you may find it more useful to "own" the critic and take a look at what it is that you (and not somebody else) actually expect.
Let me give a personal example.
I play the piano, and sometimes when I'm confronting a new technical challenge and get frustrated, I can come down hard on myself.
If I listen closely, I'll be saying things like, "You're a lousy player.
What's wrong with you? You should have mastered this piece already! You'll never be any good.
" Those thoughts aren't merely critical.
They reflect attitudes and expectations I've struggled with my entire life: 1.
I should be able to master things quickly and easily.
2.
Learning should not involve frustration.
3.
I want to be the best at what I do; anything less is without value.
I am not the victim of these perfectionistic expectations; a part of me demands that my life conform to the way I expect it to be.
When those demands aren't met, it usually stirs up anger that I "can't have my way": on some level, it makes me furious that life and my experience don't unfold exactly the way I want them to, and in this particular example, that I'm not the brilliant musician (a true genius!) that I long to be.
Self-criticism transforms into anger -- my anger, and not a "negative self-statement" I've internalized from the outside.
Knowing myself well, having been over this ground many times, I think: "Oh that again.
Now be quiet and breathe.
" I turn myself back to the long patient work of practicing and accept that, as much as I might hate the fact, I will never play Carnegie Hall.
In an earlier post, I discussed why such verbal techniques don't work, but even for those people who do find them valuable, I'd like to suggest a different way of approaching this issue.
These other techniques tend to view "negative self-statements" as if they were something almost alien to the person: internalized parental criticism we must identify and reject; perfectionistic standards imposed upon us by advertising, our peer group, society at large; mental tape loops that reflexively repeat horrible things about us, almost like a critic-virus implanted in our brains.
Instead, you may find it more useful to "own" the critic and take a look at what it is that you (and not somebody else) actually expect.
Let me give a personal example.
I play the piano, and sometimes when I'm confronting a new technical challenge and get frustrated, I can come down hard on myself.
If I listen closely, I'll be saying things like, "You're a lousy player.
What's wrong with you? You should have mastered this piece already! You'll never be any good.
" Those thoughts aren't merely critical.
They reflect attitudes and expectations I've struggled with my entire life: 1.
I should be able to master things quickly and easily.
2.
Learning should not involve frustration.
3.
I want to be the best at what I do; anything less is without value.
I am not the victim of these perfectionistic expectations; a part of me demands that my life conform to the way I expect it to be.
When those demands aren't met, it usually stirs up anger that I "can't have my way": on some level, it makes me furious that life and my experience don't unfold exactly the way I want them to, and in this particular example, that I'm not the brilliant musician (a true genius!) that I long to be.
Self-criticism transforms into anger -- my anger, and not a "negative self-statement" I've internalized from the outside.
Knowing myself well, having been over this ground many times, I think: "Oh that again.
Now be quiet and breathe.
" I turn myself back to the long patient work of practicing and accept that, as much as I might hate the fact, I will never play Carnegie Hall.