Why is my inner critic so efficient at sounding the death knell on topic ideas?
The deluded answer to that question is because of you, dear reader. If there were no chance of your eyes perusing my every word, my fingers would freely ‘fly’ around the keyboard, while my critic nodded off. Enjoyment of the process would not be marred by thoughts of the outcome and the fear that it would not be good enough.
These thoughts emerged out of self-reflection over my ever-constant hesitancy to run with topic ideas. Ideas surface, and some gather momentum, beckoning me to ride the wave of enthusiasm. But as I approach the shore of creation, the tireless critic rises, forming what appears to be an insurmountable barrier between me and accomplishment.
The critic pokes holes in the idea out of which my enthusiasm drains into murky puddles labelled feeble, childish, pathetic, ‘it’s not going to work’…. And as if that’s not enough, he (the critic) rolls his eyes and sighs.
The result of this gives rise to yet another headstone in my mental graveyard for ideas. I could say that I lay the ideas to rest, but I’m not convinced that they rest.
The weight of the number of headstones was becoming too oppressive and instead of wasting time with yet another one, and then ending off with the old dictum of ‘Well at least I tried!’, it was time to pick apart the strands of debilitating doubt, and through that process shed a little light that may shine for you too. After all, my waning faith in possibility, and thus my inability to conceive ideas that survive the path to completion, is not unique to me. We all have big fat inner critics threatening to toss our ideas into puddles.
And it just takes that one pause, in which we question the worth of our idea, for our unstoppable surge of enthusiasm to peter out into disbelief over the fact that we saw any merit in it at all. And then off to the mental graveyard we trundle, to erect yet another headstone bearing the name of the idea or its inherent possibility, written in teeny weeny letters. Nothing bold you see, because that too may arouse attention including that of our ever-vigilant critic, who, even in the graveyard, would seize the opportunity to raise further reasons for the idea’s dismissal - all its potentialities for failure along with the resultant shame and embarrassment that would be smeared all over our identity.
But what is an identity that can be covered by shame and embarrassment, or, burst with pride? Not our true identity that’s for sure, but rather that fragile part of our make-up, the ego. And without the ego, there would be no playground for the critic.
It's tempting to want to strangle our critic, but such a reaction, besides being impossible, is not aligned with gentle, acceptance or trust - my nuggets conducive for flow. So, in the vein of acceptance, I let my critic talk while using curiosity to lead me to the source of the commentary. Naturally that source is not out there in the ether (or in others!), but within us, right up close to that mental graveyard. It’s based on our perception of what others would think. And we elevate their supposed appraisal above that of our own, because for one thing, we ‘think’ that everyone would think those denigrating thoughts (and the majority must be right, not so?). And, common to most of us when our ego is wreaking havoc, is the belief that we are not good enough. A belief that can be responsible for perfectionism, that fear-driven ploy that stifles vitality and joy.
It’s helpful to realise during idea-tossing times, that our recoil from the pursuit of an idea is often another way of highlighting the boundary of our comfort zone. Especially when the idea had filled you with excitement. Criticism or the fear of criticism is not permitted within the comfort zone, but then nor are thrill-infused experiences inherent in the fulfilment of exciting ideas. In a nutshell, the comfort zone is risk-averse, but new and expansive ideas are risk-inclined.
To ease our journey beyond the border of the comfort zone, we need to question our beliefs.
If I put distance between the ‘I’ who is thinking and my thoughts, I may more easily gain the realisation that the vociferous energy of my critic is solely dependent on my belief in the existence of criticism from others, and in turn the vested power that that criticism holds to diminish me. Really? How can the thoughts of other human beings (those numbers with arms and legs like I have), about my ideas, be powerful enough to banish me to life under a rock, lest more slings and arrows pierce my ego. Cue crazy!
But any ingrained thinking takes questioning, time and practice to change, to release us from the staid, tried and safe. Little risks can grow to bigger ones, being vulnerable can transcend from blush-inducing to blasé-inducing. And through this process we accumulate mitigating evidence to present to our critic.
The contrast between safe but boring, and risky but exciting should highlight the value of expansion and exploration. Risks always carry what ifs, but without trying, they transform into if onlys in old age, because the things we didn’t do create the most impactful regrets in later life. Those are the regrets that we play out over and over in our twilight years, wondering, in retrospect, what scared us so, when the worst that could have happened was failure, an essential part of learning and growth.
Allow your feelings and truth, as it presently dresses itself, to talk to you.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” ~ Mark Twain
Gill has always been likely to call things as they are. Given the social constraints at the time ... 60s, 70s and 80s this would not have been as robust as she would have liked I'm sure. Now the constraint, as Gill has so eloquently pointed out, an internal voice, often much harsher.
I agree Romy, Gill needs a regular column of her own. She has a gift with the written word which readers will surely embrace, as we do!
Your critic needs to chill. In fact, your critic needs to be fired! The words you put together, my friend, are sublime; the pearls on a pearl necklace analogy is overused, but my god, you can put those words together! Publishers of the world, take note, you should be hammering at this girl's door. With love, and enormous gratitude. Romy