Disarming the Critic

 

The Vagabondage Series:  Elana Baxter on lizard busting.

 

I recently became aware of just how much and how often my inner critic pipes up to tell me how badly I am doing things. How much better, more productive, kinder, and more __________I need to be.

And when the critic isn’t telling me that, it’s attacking my body, eating habits, parenting, cooking and cleaning.

Be more!

Do more!

It’s a constant rant punctuated only briefly by sneaks of quiet.

I have come to the only sane conclusion that a woman experiencing this incessant haranguing can. . .

The inner critic must die or at the very least it must be sedated. Heavily.

I am tired of beating the shit out of myself. Every ounce of energy spent hating on myself, nitpicking, correcting, disallowing and crapping down my own throat!

I can’t get that energy back. And I can’t get the time back.

It’s gone. Forever.

Here’s what I do in order to allow some space and begin showing myself some love and compassion.

I disarm the voice.

You know the voice, right?

When that voice comes up it’s a signal. A signal that tells me this: I am not loving myself, and I am not giving myself permission to experience life in my own unique way as authentically as possible.

So. . .as soon as it starts, I know immediately that it’s not coming from a good, sane place.

It’s old sweat socks kind of stuff, the kind that needs to be thrown in the laundry (reframed in a positive way, e.g. I am fat and disgusting becomes I don’t feel good about my body, I think I’ll walk/run/swim/write/feel my feelings and do something about it.)

OR thrown out completely (check out what you’re saying to see if it’s really true by asking a friend, reflecting or writing about it, whatever works for you.)

At first, the voice might fight back.

Really, it will, because it’s directly related to the lizard brain and IT is always going to resist.

It thinks it’s helping you by pointing out every single fault and folly, every trip and slip.

 

The voice and the lizard brain want to keep you safe.

But I will not accept that safety is a satisfactory replacement for a life lived in full acceptance of the true blue me.

Ever.

And I hope you don’t either.

I’m going to practice this loving myself thing.

I’m going to practice even though it feels a little weird and new, like a pair of shoes that haven’t quite molded to my sole (soul) yet.