I call my inner critic Susan. I have no idea why she’s named Susan. She just is. Susan has opinions about everything.
She tells me I’m not working hard enough. She reminds me of every mistake I’ve ever made. She loves comparing me to other women and informing me that everyone else has their shit together except me. Susan sucks. She’s a bitch, too.
Some days, I know Susan is lying. Other days, I believe every word she says. Every day, my mind is flooded with thoughts I’ve identified as truth. The most common ones sound like this:
- You’re worthless.
- You’re not good enough.
- You don’t know anything.
- Who do you think you are?
- You’re a failure.
…….and the list goes on.
It’s a never-ending stream of criticism that follows me everywhere. At work, in relationships, in everyday decisions. The worst part isn’t what Susan says. The worst part is how convincing she can be. What’s interesting is that most people describe me as confident. I wouldn’t. What people don’t see is the constant conversation happening behind the scenes. The voice that reminds me of every flaw, every mistake, and every reason why I shouldn’t believe in myself.
Therapy taught me something I still have to practice every day: Those thoughts are not me. Once I learned that I could separate myself from Susan, I learned I can also start to challenge her. One of the most helpful questions I ask myself is: Would I say this to a friend? The answer is always no. I wouldn’t tell a friend she’s worthless, a failure, or not good enough. So, why the hell do I continue saying those things to myself?
I’ve spent years trying to learn how to talk to myself with the same compassion, encouragement, and patience that I freely give to other people. Some days I do pretty well. Other days, Susan wins. But even on those days, I recognize her voice more quickly than I used to. For a long time, I thought the goal was to get rid of Susan. I don’t think that’s the goal anymore. Susan still shows up. She still has opinions and still convinces me she’s right. And she’s still a bitch.
The difference is that I no longer mistake her voice for my own. I know who she is now. She’s not wisdom, not truth, nor reality. She’s a collection of old beliefs that have learned how to sound like facts. And while I can’t always stop Susan from talking, I can decide whether she gets a vote. Most days, I tell her fuck off.
And I think that fits the whole theme of Be Fierce, dammit. Because being fierce isn’t defeating your inner critic once and for all. It’s hearing her, recognizing her, and moving forward anyway. So, go tell your inner critic to fuck off and see how you feel afterward.
