Internal Critic

As I continue to seek my right livelihood by committing to the truth, I acknowledge that I am governed by an internal critic who forces me to choose one thing over another. Here are a few comments I hear from my critic:

• Either you work out 1 hour/day every day of the week or you'll become a fat slob.
• Either you get everything done at work or you'll get fired.
• If you eat that, then you'll lose all self-control and completely blow your diet.
• If you don't get an "A" on every paper, you'll never get a PhD.
• If you don't work harder, you won't deserve the salary you're paid.

For most of my life, I have struggled with feelings of inadequacy, not being good enough. In fact, I half-seriously told my husband that I feared my epitaph would read, "She tried hard, but wasn't quite good enough." Ironically, though, when I quit drinking and heard about other people's drunken exploits, I'd think, "Well, at least I wasn't THAT bad."

In the past year, I have intentionally practiced what I refer to as generosity of spirit with myself, my husband, family, friends, and co-workers. Instead of crabbing about a perceived slight, I think, "Maybe it has nothing to do with me. Maybe she's just having a bad day." Rather than avoiding situations that might make me anxious, I think, "It's important to her that I be there so even though I might be uncomfortable not knowing people, today it's not about me."

This has opened me up in ways I haven't anticipated. I feel generous, compassionate, and welcoming with others and with myself...including my internal critic. So finally, I'm able to exercise gently rather than as self-flagellation. Today I walk around the lake instead of doing P90X for not 90, but 180 days. I'm able to pace myself at work and leave some things undone, knowing that tomorrow I can work on it again. I can appreciate how hard I work instead of feeling as though I should be doing more. I can find a diet that enables me to be healthy without feeling deprived.

Unfortunately, I came to this too late to allow myself to get a "B" in my doctoral program. But I often think of my dear friend and colleague watched me study, work, and prepare for four years and who said, "Deb, do you know what they'll call you if you get a "B"?" Eyes wide open and heart beating wildly, I said,"No, what will they call me?" And she replied, "Doctor."