My inner critic is a bitch. She’s strong. And she’s smart. She knows exactly how to play the game, waiting for just the right time to open her mouth. Right when I’m feeling I’m about to do something good or have something amazing happen to me. “Hold on a minute, Jami…who do you think you are?”
This inner critic has run the show for the better part of my 47 years. I didn’t even realize she existed until recently. I always thought she was just me. That’s how good she is.
I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about. We all have one. That voice of self-doubt, shame, uncertainty, negativity…it’s like a chameleon, able to change it’s tactics on a whim and keep you wondering. So smart.
But I’m smart, too. And if I’m going to be brutally honest here, I can be a pretty spectacular bitch, or so I’ve been told. I’m on to her now. Yes, it might take me a few days, but I’ve learned her tricks, and all of the stealthy ways she camouflages herself. And I shut her down. Because really, all she is composed of is fear. Fear, along with old coping mechanisms and faulty childhood wiring. Turns out, her strength was fed by my ignorance. Now that I know who she is and what she’s made of, and I know who I am and what I’m made of, she’s not so strong anymore…but I am. My strength feeds off her weakness.
Excellent plot twist.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
