My inner critic is harsh. Let’s just be brutally honest here: my inner critic is a true mean-to-the-bone, socially unacceptable bitch.
You know the type: They put you down every chance they get. They blame you for everything wrong that happens. Why did the boyfriend leave? You. Why did you not get that job you applied for? You. Why do you doubt yourself? You are not good enough, she would reply. Yet she would say it with a sailor’s mouth with such vulgar that you don’t want to be in public with her.
There are some days where I can control her, but there are also some days where she knocks me to the floor gasping for air with tears staining my face.
I have always had a harsh inner critic. I used to cave in and believe her that I wasn’t good enough. I just took it. I believed the negative. I drowned in it, yet I also let it be my air that I needed to breathe every day.
Then one day, I decided to live the life I wanted…no matter what.
So my goal was to prove her wrong. For example, I fought her about being a teacher. I am quiet, could be a hermit, and am so very scared to talk to a crowd. I am now in my 14th year as a special education teacher.
My point is that we are our own worst critics. How do we not drown in our own criticism?
Well, I had to reteach myself how to talk to ME. I had to tell my inner bitch that I envied her free way of talking; that I will take that energy and turn it around; that I will prove her wrong for she is just doubt talking. I needed to give life a real try because life could be over in a second.
Life needs to be cherished…not hidden from. Life needs to be lived… not sheltered. We all have our demons, our mistakes, etc. Let those mistakes be a stomping ground on our inner bitches.
Just remember to tame your inner critic instead of banishing them. I still need her spunk and her devilish ways after all. Life is more fun that way. 😉
kids” is heartbreaking. I call them “my kids” not because they are “sped” but because during those 9-10 months of school I spend so much time with them helping them in their subjects, helping them with their testing anxiety, chatting about their days, giving morning hugs as they walk in the front door from the bus and receiving afternoon hugs as they rush by me to leave school for the day. Some are not “sped”, some are. It really doesn’t matter. They are all reminders of why teachers teach. 
