Monday, March 5, 2018

A Love Letter to My Inner Critic

Dear Inner Critic,

I wanted to write you a letter and let you know how much you've meant to me for all these years.  For so long I've treated you like a burden, like a horrible secret that needed to be hidden away.  I've realized lately how much you've done for me, and I wanted to thank you for helping me get through the toughest times in my life. 

In my earliest childhood years, I really didn't need you, and whether you knew that or I was just too young to criticize myself properly, you hung back and let me soak in all of the adulation that came from being the newest baby in a large extended family that had suffered terrible losses.  You let me believe what they said --- that I was cute and smart and funny --- and you knew that I would need the memory of that pride and approval and love to sustain me through the next long, lonely decades. 

When my mother's pride turned into anger and her smile turned to stone, you emerged from behind me with a shushing sound.  You taught me to hold my tongue quietly in my mouth, to watch the language of the bodies around me, to be wary of feeling comfortable enough to speak freely.  You showed me the traps laid for me to fall into, the pits in my path, the slipperly slides down the hill that would capture me if I strayed.  You covered my mouth before I spoke and showed me how she would see my words --- as daggers aimed at her, not the innocent musings they were.

Sometimes I ignored your warnings.  I couldn't help but break through and try to be myself.  When I was punished for it, you repeated your warnings, and showed me that hiding was the only way to live through my childhood.

Your reprimands kept me safe at school as well.  You held me back from always having the answer, or at least volunteering it, and from thinking that my intelligence meant anything to the world.  You instilled in me a sense that I would never be enough, and that kept me striving for more, more knowledge, love, and skills, for a very long time.  Any time I started feeling complacent, your relentless nagging kept me from standing still.  My thirst for knowledge was born from your dissatisfaction with my achievements, whatever those happened to be.  Thanks to you, I have learned and experienced so much that I might have otherwise missed.

Did I mention that you saved my actual life?  I have no doubt that without your constant warnings, I might have been killed, physically or spiritually, by either one of my birth parents.  Their volatile personalities, addictions, and sheer bottled rage could have exploded on me at any time, without your constant criticism to remind me that I was not measuring up to their impossible standards, and they might lose their temper at any moment.

I carried you with me to college and beyond, hearing your voice, the voice of fear, in my head any time I showed my true personality.  You said my parents wouldn't like that, they wouldn't stand for it, they might slap or threaten or punish me for who I am, for who I was showing to the world. 

I hated you for a long time.  But I needed you in order to get here, to where I am today.  I have a new life, and a new name, and no one has ever said hateful things about this new name, this new person that I am today.  I'm stepping out into the light as my true self, and I don't need you to protect me anymore.  Thank you for saving my life, for keeping me safe, but I'm okay by myself now.

You can rest now.  I'll always remember you.  Goodbye.

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