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The Inner Critic

Good evening again. Tonight, I'd like to build a little bit on something that I started to talk about last Monday: this idea of working with our emotions. It is such a big topic, and there is so much we could do with this. As I plan to mention, one way that we can work with our emotions is to investigate and inquire about some of our underlying beliefs that might be supporting or fueling our emotions. What are some of the belief structures or thoughts that are very quietly in the back of our minds? What are the thoughts that keep our emotions going? I like this idea of fueling them—providing the fuel that keeps them going.

As I mentioned earlier at the beginning of the meditation, there is one theme that I've noticed in myself, and I've noticed it in many of us. It is very prevalent—not just in Dharma practitioners, but probably in Western culture as well, if I dare be so bold as to say something like that. That is this idea of what I will call, and what others call, the inner critic.

This is the idea of, "Oh, I should be doing it better. I should be doing it differently. I'm doing it wrong. I have to be better." We experience some version of that, and it's quite remarkable how common this is. So, if you might have thought that you were the only one, and that everybody else has all their ducks in a row, it turns out this is quite prevalent.

I read somewhere describing the inner critic like that bad roommate that's always there, saying something to you like, "You should do this, you shouldn't do that." We could also understand it almost like a subpersonality—a part inside of us that's constantly putting us down, belittling us, judging us, blaming us, being critical, or nagging at us.

With this, there might be a diffuse and pervasive, but not quite clear, sense of shame. It is a sense of shame for what we are, how we are, or who we are in some kind of way. With this also comes a sense of harshness. The tone of the voice of this roommate or subpersonality—however you want to imagine it—isn't a voice of kindness. Instead, it's a voice of harshness.

It's not just a voice; it's also a dynamic or a constellation of experiences in the body, thoughts in the mind, and attitudes or moods. Some are subtle, and some of them are not so subtle. They may feel familiar because we have seen it for so long, for quite some time. But there's this feeling of inadequacy as part of the inner critic: this idea of whatever I'm doing, it's not enough, or however I am, it's not quite good enough.

It's understandable that many of us have this. We've learned this from family, from culture, from school, and from society. It's a phenomenon. We don't have to blame ourselves. We're not the only ones, and we didn't just make it out of whole cloth for no particular reason. We don't have to be critical of ourselves for having this inner critic.

Impacts of the Inner Critic

There are a number of ways in which this inner critic impacts us. I'll just talk about a few here.

One is that it leads to a dampening or a repression of the expression of ourselves. This is the feeling that we shouldn't express who we are, or we should only express a small bit, not the whole portion of who we are. This dampens and suppresses our creativity and our feelings of intimacy with others. This sense of not being able to fully show up leads to a certain type of frustration and dissatisfaction. This frustration and dissatisfaction can lead to anger. Maybe it's a diffuse, vague sense of anger about how things are, without a clear sense of why they are that way. Our being feels squelched, which leads to frustration, which leads to anger, which might lead to hostility.

Another way the inner critic impacts us is the sense of "shoulds" coming into our lives and our practice. "I should behave a certain way. I should not behave this other way." The inner critic specifically comes into our meditation practice with a sense of, "I should meditate more. I should be concentrated. My mind shouldn't be wandering away." Or, if you're doing loving-kindness practice, "I should be more loving, dang it!" [Laughter]

This idea of "should" creates a sense of pressure. This pressure can block, cramp, inhibit, shut down, or end our whole meditation practice because the sense of "should" is so uncomfortable. In that way, it squeezes the juice or joy out of our practice. Instead, our meditation practice becomes burdensome—something we're supposed to be doing, but there isn't any lightness to it. There isn't any sense of spaciousness and opportunity. Instead, it feels like drudgery; it feels dry or brittle.

The inner critic can also squelch our ability to ask ourselves really deep questions, including questions like: What are my highest aspirations? What's really important for me? What do I want in my life? How can my life unfold in a way that's meaningful for me? How might I live my life now so that at the end of my life, I feel like I lived it according to what was important and meaningful?

These are just a few of the ways the inner critic can show up and impact us: suppressing our creativity and intimacy, creating a feeling of "should" and pressure that impacts our meditation practice and other areas of development, and getting in the way of asking deep questions about what we really want for our lives. If the inner critic is really strong, we don't want to ask those questions because we're afraid the next thought might be, "Oh well, you can't do it anyway."

Working with the Inner Critic

There are difficulties in our lives; it's part of the human experience. The Buddha, of course, pointed to this in the First Noble Truth: there is suffering, there are difficulties, things are unsatisfactory. This unsatisfactoriness is known as dukkha^[1].

Instead of allowing the inner critic to jump in really quickly and say, "This is not okay, and because I'm uncomfortable, it means that I'm doing something wrong, that I'm bad," we can ask a different question. Instead of asking, "What am I doing wrong?" or "How am I wrong as a person?", can we ask, "What is underlying this suffering? What is the cause of this difficulty? What are the conditions that made this sense of unsatisfactoriness and unease arise?"

Instead of asking, "Am I doing it right?", the question becomes, "How can I support myself right now? There are difficulties; what would be helpful? What can create more of a sense of openness or a way forward?", as opposed to, "How am I doing this wrong, or how can I make this go away?"

The Buddha introduced some of his key teachings as a shift from a concern about "What am I?" or "How am I doing it wrong?"—a concern with the essence of who we are—to an emphasis on what would be helpful, what's skillful, and what can be done in this moment. So, rather than the inner critic creating a pervasive, vague sense of shame, we can ask what is helpful and what is not. Instead of falling into the feeling that something about our essence is wrong, we can recognize that there is a web of conditions. There are so many things that contribute to every experience we have in every moment. We can look towards those conditions and actions, as opposed to feeling that we are fundamentally wrong.

The inner critic can work by singling out something in our experience and making it significant. This seed gets planted often from some insignificant thing—not always, but sometimes. It might be an email we receive that has a tone that isn't quite right, or maybe the sign-off wasn't what you were expecting or didn't feel warm. I'm just making this up, but then a whole story can unfold: "Oh, this person doesn't really want to talk to me. They are just doing this because they feel like they should. I'm a bad person. Nobody wants to send me an email."

Our minds can go to some really scary places. But notice how, if we reflect back, chances are at that time there were so many other things happening. The computer was on. Maybe just a few minutes before, there was a supportive and wholesome email. Maybe there was music playing, sounds occurring, or pleasant and neutral things to look at. Maybe we had other emails during the day that were completely neutral or pleasant, or a Zoom meeting with pleasant moments. We choose one single thing, grab onto it, hang on to it, give it importance, and build a self around it: "I'm a bad person. I'm a person that people don't really want to communicate with."

Maybe I'm using exaggerated language, but a form of this happens a lot during our days. We single out one of the countless experiences and make it really significant. That's partly how the inner critic works; it just grabs onto something and runs with it.

Another related way the inner critic works is by overestimating the centrality and importance of our sense of self. Going back to the example of receiving an email that wasn't as warm as we had hoped, we don't know the conditions of when that person was sending it. Maybe they were on their phone and something else was happening. Maybe they needed to get off the phone quickly because the light had changed and they were walking across the street. Maybe somebody in their household needed their attention. But we often think it's all about us. We think they sent the email that way just because of us. However, there are conditions for every single moment. It's not all about us, but the inner critic starts to think that it is.

The inner critic singles out a particular event, makes it very significant, and places our sense of self at the center of importance. Just noticing these two tendencies can take some of the power and authority away from the inner critic's voice.

There are many different ways we can work with this. Mindfulness—being aware of our experience in the moment—is key. But this isn't just any old mindfulness. It's not just feeling the sensations in our bodies or noticing the quality of our mind and the actual voices saying, "You're an idiot," or "Nobody likes you." Can we also notice the tone of the voice of the inner critic?

And with mindfulness, can we notice the tone of our mindfulness itself? Kindness is a natural part of mindfulness. Can we emphasize that kindness, spaciousness, and open-heartedness when we notice the bodily sensations associated with the inner critic, like pressure, tightness, frustration, or constriction?

Can we do the noticing with a sense of kindness rather than being critical? It might be that the inner critic is so familiar to us that we become critical of the inner critic. Of course, we know where that's going to go—it's just going to go around and around. So, as best you can, bring some warm-hearted awareness to the experience of the inner critic, and to whatever your experience might be. Can we emphasize affectionate curiosity and befriending?

Mindfulness is just letting the inner critic be there. This is the opposite of the knee-jerk wish to say, "Get out of here, go away, it's uncomfortable, it's difficult." The bodily sensations might be really uncomfortable, but can we let it be there? One way to do that is to give it some space. Rather than trying to shove it away, can there be an attitude of spaciousness? This might mean a really big space. If the inner critic takes up space, fill it up with as much spaciousness as you can.

What does it mean to be spacious? It's really about allowing. Can our mindfulness practice have a sense of allowing the inner critic, allowing whatever is arising in our experience? In that space, other qualities of heart and mind might have room to show up. Rather than aversion, there might be a little bit of ease and warm-heartedness. Rather than screaming, badgering, or insidious whispers, can we bring warm-hearted attention and spaciousness to it?

Then, I'll offer this other practice. I can drop in this question: "Am I believing this? Is this true?" Maybe "Is this true?" isn't the best question because, in the grip of the inner critic, our perception is colored and we can convince ourselves that anything is true. So perhaps the better question is, "Am I believing this? Am I going along with this?"

Asking this question drops in a little bit of doubt. Doubt is something that isn't present when the inner critic is fully in charge. That little bit of doubt can help create space and an affectionate sense of, "Am I believing this?"

We can work with the inner critic using warm-hearted mindfulness that allows space. Rather than narrowing in, it's a relaxed mindfulness that is like a little feather as opposed to a sledgehammer. Then, drop in the question, "Am I believing this?" to introduce a little bit of doubt. Warmth, spaciousness, and doubt can all support one another to free us from the grip of the inner critic, or at least lessen its authority. That lessening of authority makes room for something else.

Reflections

Sometimes when the inner critic is really strong, we don't feel the courage to make changes or look at ways we might do things differently. But our society right now is asking us to be courageous, to look at ourselves, and to make a difference. Working with the inner critic can be part of creating the world we all want to live in—a world without racism, a world of equality, warmth, and care.

May our practice today support our creating that world together. Thank you.