You make a small mistake. You forget to reply to an important message. You make a mistake at work. You put off something you were supposed to do. You say something that you regret a moment later. And before you have time to think about what actually happened, a comment appears in your head: \u201cHow could I have been so stupid?\u201d, \u201cI've ruined everything again\u201d, \u201cI'm hopeless\u201d, \u201cI can never do anything properly\u201d. Interestingly, if someone close to you made exactly the same mistake, you probably wouldn't say the same thing to them. You wouldn't look at a friend who forgot something important and say: \u201cYou're completely hopeless. You always ruin everything\u201d. You would rather ask what happened. Maybe you would say that she did indeed make a mistake, but after all, she can fix it. Perhaps you would think together about what to do next time. So why, when talking to ourselves, do we so easily cross a line that we probably wouldn't cross when talking to someone we care about?<\/p>\n
The inner critic doesn't always sound like criticism<\/strong><\/p>\n The inner critic doesn't have to say: \u201cYou're hopeless\u201d. Sometimes it is much more subtle. It can sound like demanding things of yourself: \u201cI should have done more\u201d. Like responsibility: \u201cI can't allow myself to make such mistakes\u201d. Like ambition: \u201cI have to try harder\u201d. Or even like an attempt to motivate yourself: \u201cIf I let myself off the hook, I'll become completely lazy\u201d. And that is precisely why it is so easy to confuse self-criticism with something that is supposed to serve us. We may feel that if we stop pushing ourselves, we will start being too lenient with ourselves. That if we don't give ourselves an internal scolding after making a mistake, we won't learn anything. That harshness is the price of responsibility. The thing is, demanding things of yourself and attacking yourself are not the same thing. You can expect yourself to be punctual and, at the same time, not call yourself hopeless when you're late. You can want to do your job well and not question your entire worth after one mistake. You can acknowledge that you treated someone unfairly, apologize, and try to react differently next time, without coming to the conclusion that you are a bad person.<\/p>\n \u201cI did something wrong\u201d and \u201cI'm hopeless\u201d are two different pieces of information<\/strong><\/p>\n The problem often begins in a very brief moment between the event and its interpretation. The fact may be: \u201cI didn't prepare enough for the meeting\u201d. The critic adds: \u201cI'm incompetent\u201d. The fact may be: \u201cI didn't do what I had planned today\u201d. The critic adds: \u201cI have no discipline at all\u201d. The fact may be: \u201cI responded badly in that conversation\u201d. A moment later, another thought appears: \u201cI always ruin everything\u201d. The first sentence describes a specific situation or behavior. The second begins to describe you. And this difference is enormous, because you can do something with the information \u201cI didn't prepare enough\u201d. You can think about why it happened, what was missing, and how to prepare next time. What exactly are you supposed to do with the information \u201cI'm hopeless\u201d? It doesn't indicate the next step. It doesn't tell you what you need. It doesn't help you fix the mistake. It is a judgment that very easily closes the conversation instead of leading to a solution.<\/p>\n Where does demanding things of yourself end?<\/strong><\/p>\n It's not about stopping noticing your own mistakes. Development without feedback would be very difficult. Sometimes we really do something wrong. Sometimes we fail. Sometimes we make a decision that we later regret. Sometimes we could have done something better. Trying to turn every such situation into \u201ceverything is fine\u201d would be neither honest nor particularly helpful. The boundary lies elsewhere. Constructive demands refer to a specific behavior: \u201cI didn't meet the deadline\u201d. Self-criticism moves on to judging the person: \u201cI'm irresponsible\u201d. Constructive demands allow you to look for information: \u201cWhat caused me not to finish on time?\u201d. The critic often delivers a verdict: \u201cBecause, of course, once again I couldn't get myself together\u201d. Constructive reflection leaves the possibility of a next step: \u201cNext time I'll start earlier or set a more realistic deadline\u201d. Destructive criticism often generalizes: \u201cI'm always like this\u201d. So it's worth asking not only: \u201cAm I demanding of myself?\u201d, but also: \u201cWhat do my demands do next?\u201d. Do they help me see the problem and change something? Or do they simply add another layer of suffering to a situation that has already happened?<\/p>\n The inner critic also consumes resources<\/strong><\/p>\n Imagine that you made a mistake at work in the morning. The mistake itself may require correcting, and that already costs some time, attention, and energy. But the matter doesn't always end once it has been corrected. Even during lunch, you replay the situation in your head. In the afternoon, you wonder what others thought of you. In the evening, you remember a similar situation from a few months ago and begin to build a story about yourself from these situations: \u201cWell, of course, I always\u2026\u201d. One mistake has just been given several additional hours of life. That is why, at Your Way Up, we also look at the inner critic from the perspective of resources. The question is not only: \u201cIs what I say to myself kind?\u201d. More important may be: \u201cDoes this way of talking to myself help me deal with the situation more effectively?\u201d. If the answer is \u201cno\u201d, it is worth checking what exactly you are paying for with your attention and energy.<\/p>\n A gentler approach to yourself does not mean being too lenient with yourself<\/strong><\/p>\n This is probably one of the most important things in this topic. The alternative to \u201cI'm an idiot\u201d doesn't have to be \u201cnothing happened\u201d. Between these two extremes, there is an enormous amount of space. You can say: \u201cYes, I messed up\u201d. You can apologize. You can correct the mistake. You can face the consequences. You can admit that next time you want to behave differently. All of this is possible without insulting yourself. In psychology, research on self-compassion indicates that a more supportive attitude toward yourself does not have to mean giving up responsibility or the motivation to improve. In other words: you don't have to choose between personal development and treating yourself with respect. You can do both.<\/p>\n Instead of a verdict, try to look for information<\/strong><\/p>\n The next time you make a mistake, try to stop for a moment the story that the Critic begins to tell about you and return to what actually happened. What is the fact? Not: \u201cI'm lazy\u201d, but: \u201cI didn't do this task today\u201d. Not: \u201cI can't maintain any routine\u201d, but: \u201cFor the last three days, I haven't done what I planned\u201d. Not: \u201cI'm terrible at relationships\u201d, but: \u201cIn this conversation, I said something that I now regret\u201d. Only then can you ask the next question: what can I learn from this? Maybe the plan was unrealistic. Maybe there wasn't enough time. Maybe you were putting something off. Maybe you were tired. Or maybe you simply made a mistake and need to do something differently next time. Then there is one more question left: what is the next step? Sometimes it will be apologizing to someone. Sometimes correcting your work. Sometimes changing the plan. Sometimes accepting the consequences. And sometimes nothing more needs to be done. This simple transition \u2013 fact \u2192 conclusion \u2192 next step<\/strong> \u2013 allows you to keep responsibility where it is needed, without adding a judgment of your entire self to it.<\/p>\n Would you say the same thing to someone close to you?<\/strong><\/p>\n You can also do a simple experiment. Think back to the last mistake for which you strongly criticized yourself. Recall the exact words that appeared in your head at that moment. And now imagine that someone you love did exactly the same thing. Not something similar. Exactly the same thing. Would you say to them what you said to yourself? If not, it doesn't automatically mean that from now on you have to say only nice things to yourself. Instead, think about what you would say to that person if you wanted to support them and, at the same time, honestly name what they did wrong. Perhaps that is precisely where you can find the language worth trying in conversations with yourself as well.<\/p>\n You don't have to choose between demanding things of yourself and respecting yourself<\/strong><\/p>\n You can have standards. You can be ambitious. You can expect responsibility from yourself. You can notice your mistakes, correct them, and draw conclusions from them. The only question is whether you really need to humiliate yourself as part of this process. The inner critic sometimes tries to convince us that without it, we will stop developing. Meanwhile, it is worth starting to observe not its intention, but its effect. Do you better understand what happened after its comment? Do you know what to do next time? Do you have more clarity? Or do you simply have less energy and another thing you have to deal with \u2013 your own attack on yourself? The next time \u201cI'm hopeless\u201d appears after a mistake, try not to fight that sentence or forcefully replace it with something positive. Stop and ask: what exactly did I do wrong, what can I learn from it, and what can I do next? A mistake can remain a mistake. It doesn't have to become the definition of who you are.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Pope\u0142niasz drobny b\u0142\u0105d. Zapominasz odpisa\u0107 na wa\u017cn\u0105 wiadomo\u015b\u0107. Mylisz si\u0119 w pracy. Odk\u0142adasz co\u015b, co mia\u0142a\u015b zrobi\u0107. M\u00f3wisz co\u015b, czego chwil\u0119 p\u00f3\u017aniej \u017ca\u0142ujesz. I zanim zd\u0105\u017cysz zastanowi\u0107 si\u0119 nad tym, co w\u0142a\u015bciwie si\u0119 wydarzy\u0142o, w Twojej g\u0142owie pojawia si\u0119 komentarz: \u201eJak mog\u0142am by\u0107 taka g\u0142upia?\u201d, \u201eZnowu wszystko zepsu\u0142am\u201d, \u201eJestem beznadziejna\u201d, \u201eNigdy nie potrafi\u0119 zrobi\u0107 niczego […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ocean_post_layout":"","ocean_both_sidebars_style":"","ocean_both_sidebars_content_width":0,"ocean_both_sidebars_sidebars_width":0,"ocean_sidebar":"0","ocean_second_sidebar":"0","ocean_disable_margins":"enable","ocean_add_body_class":"","ocean_shortcode_before_top_bar":"","ocean_shortcode_after_top_bar":"","ocean_shortcode_before_header":"","ocean_shortcode_after_header":"","ocean_has_shortcode":"","ocean_shortcode_after_title":"","ocean_shortcode_before_footer_widgets":"","ocean_shortcode_after_footer_widgets":"","ocean_shortcode_before_footer_bottom":"","ocean_shortcode_after_footer_bottom":"","ocean_display_top_bar":"default","ocean_display_header":"default","ocean_header_style":"","ocean_center_header_left_menu":"0","ocean_custom_header_template":"0","ocean_custom_logo":0,"ocean_custom_retina_logo":0,"ocean_custom_logo_max_width":0,"ocean_custom_logo_tablet_max_width":0,"ocean_custom_logo_mobile_max_width":0,"ocean_custom_logo_max_height":0,"ocean_custom_logo_tablet_max_height":0,"ocean_custom_logo_mobile_max_height":0,"ocean_header_custom_menu":"0","ocean_menu_typo_font_family":"0","ocean_menu_typo_font_subset":"","ocean_menu_typo_font_size":0,"ocean_menu_typo_font_size_tablet":0,"ocean_menu_typo_font_size_mobile":0,"ocean_menu_typo_font_size_unit":"px","ocean_menu_typo_font_weight":"","ocean_menu_typo_font_weight_tablet":"","ocean_menu_typo_font_weight_mobile":"","ocean_menu_typo_transform":"","ocean_menu_typo_transform_tablet":"","ocean_menu_typo_transform_mobile":"","ocean_menu_typo_line_height":0,"ocean_menu_typo_line_height_tablet":0,"ocean_menu_typo_line_height_mobile":0,"ocean_menu_typo_line_height_unit":"","ocean_menu_typo_spacing":0,"ocean_menu_typo_spacing_tablet":0,"ocean_menu_typo_spacing_mobile":0,"ocean_menu_typo_spacing_unit":"","ocean_menu_link_color":"","ocean_menu_link_color_hover":"","ocean_menu_link_color_active":"","ocean_menu_link_background":"","ocean_menu_link_hover_background":"","ocean_menu_link_active_background":"","ocean_menu_social_links_bg":"","ocean_menu_social_hover_links_bg":"","ocean_menu_social_links_color":"","ocean_menu_social_hover_links_color":"","ocean_disable_title":"default","ocean_disable_heading":"default","ocean_post_title":"","ocean_post_subheading":"","ocean_post_title_style":"","ocean_post_title_background_color":"","ocean_post_title_background":0,"ocean_post_title_bg_image_position":"","ocean_post_title_bg_image_attachment":"","ocean_post_title_bg_image_repeat":"","ocean_post_title_bg_image_size":"","ocean_post_title_height":0,"ocean_post_title_bg_overlay":0.5,"ocean_post_title_bg_overlay_color":"","ocean_disable_breadcrumbs":"default","ocean_breadcrumbs_color":"","ocean_breadcrumbs_separator_color":"","ocean_breadcrumbs_links_color":"","ocean_breadcrumbs_links_hover_color":"","ocean_display_footer_widgets":"default","ocean_display_footer_bottom":"default","ocean_custom_footer_template":"0","ocean_post_oembed":"","ocean_post_self_hosted_media":"","ocean_post_video_embed":"","ocean_link_format":"","ocean_link_format_target":"self","ocean_quote_format":"","ocean_quote_format_link":"post","ocean_gallery_link_images":"on","ocean_gallery_id":[],"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-708","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","entry"],"yoast_head":"\n