Catching Your Breath

by Steve Austin

  My inner critic shows up any time we need something repaired at home or with one of our cars. My dad can figure out and fix absolutely anything. He’s seriously genius-level when it comes to mechanics. When I was a kid, Dad owned a mechanic shop in our tiny town. He repaired and replaced engines, tinkered with lawn mowers, fixed four-wheelers, and more. As a teenager, I watched my Dad teach himself to brick our home. We were building a new home and he didn’t want to rely on anyone else.

  Me? I struggle to change a tire and can barely construct a Lego house. Sure, I have plenty of other gifts, talents, and abilities. But in my mind, the inner critic has had a love-affair with shame, creating a bastard child I like to refer to as “Mike.” (Sorry to all the Mikes reading this.) Mike just seems like the perfect name for a brutish bully who loves to push people around and poke holes anywhere he thinks there might be shame or insecurity.

  Mike is a jackass. Like a real one, with long ears, who shows up on bad days or in weak moments, not only to eat your grass but to stand in your backyard, loudly braying at all the ways you are screwing up and missing the mark.

  “Missing the mark” was a favorite definition of sin in the Evangelical churches where I grew up. It’s interesting how “missing the mark” also naturally shows up when we’re talking about perfectionism and shame-based hyper-self-awareness. The truth is, there is nothing sinful about missing the mark of a shame-consumed, fear-based culture.

  What about you? How do you criticize yourself when things aren’t going well? When that internal dialogue starts to happen, how do you respond? Do your shoulders tense? Does your breath shorten? Your pulse start to race? Do you feel yourself shrinking in shame?

  The inner critic is the voice inside your head that tells you all sorts of horrible lies. Because the inner critic is fear-based, it also deals in extremes like “always” and “never.” It tells you lies like, “Life is hard and always will be.” Have you heard that voice lately? The inner critic wants to prevent us from going after honesty, vulnerability, taking healthy risks, and personal growth.

  When was the last time your inner critic showed up? What did he or she say? How do you wish you’d responded? If you could muster the courage to talk back, what would you say? How does it make you feel when you think of combatting the lies you tell yourself?

  Living in the -Ish

  I’m not a perfectionist. I prefer excellence much more. At the end of the day or the completion of a project, my approach is this: “Did you do your best?” If I can answer yes, I’m delighted.

  I live my life in the -ish. We eat healthy-ish, home-cooked meals nearly every night. We raise our children to behave but don’t expect them to be robots, devoid of personality. Exercise matters to me, but it’s not my number-one priority. And when it comes to my faith, some might call me Christian-ish (they’d probably be right). That’s okay with me. I live my life 100% in the -ish zone because, in a different season of my life, striving for perfection nearly killed me.

  I was always hustling to live up to unrealistic expectations and goals that were more than lofty. They were so far from reality, you might call them extraterrestrial (#dadjoke). I would have never put the same pressure on others that I placed on myself. Thankfully, deconstructing my life, spending hours on the couch at my therapist’s office, and becoming a parent has started to change everything for me.

  I’m not concerned with my kids being perfect. I don’t stress if their school portraits aren’t worth buying. I don’t need my son to make the All-Star team. My daughter loves her dance classes, but I have no expectations of her, other than to have fun, build her self-confidence, and do something she loves. And my wife doesn’t desire to have every store credit card she can get her hands on to continually purchase the latest fashion. Some things matter more to us than the external trappings of a “perfect” life. Excellence is good enough for us.

  We live in a decent little townhouse that was built in the mid-80’s, in a neighborhood that no one is dying to live in. My truck was new in 1995, has no radio, the air conditioning only works on high, and the windshield leaks when it pours down rain. But that same truck belonged to my Granddad and it allows me to drive my son to school each day, having conversations he’ll hopefully remember for a long time.

  Sure, we could live in debt up to our ears. Maybe you think I really should force my children to work on their homework or extracurricular activities until they are no longer fun. Some guys love to work out each morning at 4am to fight off the dreaded “dad bod.” If those things matter to you, more power to ya. But I now know the life I was missing in the midst of all that never-ending striving. None of those things are nearly as attractive to me any longer.

  Criticism’s Hidden Gift

  As much as I hate striving for approval, I’ve chosen a strange career path. Writers constantly submit some part of our soul to someone else for approval. It’s a bizarre feeling. To some extent, it’s an occupational hazard, showing up in the form of harsh comments and emails or social media trolls. But it isn’t just writers who experience this. We’ve all been criticized by difficult people at some point.

  Most of us have had a bad boss who never complimented our hard work. Most ministers I know have experienced critical congregations. As parents, most of us have felt the glare of a stranger in the grocery store. We’ve all shared some part of our personal lives with people, only to have it picked apart by less-than-gracious folks. And for me, it is part of the daily grind. This is my world.

  A few years ago, I submitted a piece of writing to a major publication for the first time. It took a lot of guts. When the editor’s response arrived via email, I was feeling especially vulnerable and nervous. Instead of turning me down, she offered a great deal of constructive criticism and sent me back to the drawing board, ending with an invitation to send it back over when I was finished. Most new writers would be thrilled, but my thoughts were jumbled and my emotions started to simmer. In the editor’s bid to offer constructive criticism, she was direct, to the point of being curt. I began to sway to the all-too-familiar song of shame.

  I shut down. I allowed her directness to hurt my feelings, but was embarrassed to admit it. After a long talk with a close friend, I could say it out loud: “I’ve allowed criticism to feel personal.” Have you ever been there? Have you ever allowed someone’s negative opinion to define your self-worth? My friend laughed because she knows the business. The piece began to come together as we talked. Even though my writing seemed to be taking off, shame’s song of “not good enough” still rang in my ears.

  The more I share my story outside my inner circle, the more I open myself to criticalizin’. Constructive criticism pushes me to become courageous, to say what I really mean. When I stopped letting that editor’s feedback feel so personal, I was able to apply it in a way that made my writing bolder and braver.

  Courage is criticism’s hidden gift. But just because something is beneficial doesn’t mean it is always comfortable. I usually walk into the room ready to do the hard thing. But then my inner critic pipes up, calls me a loser, and ruins my day. Have you ever allowed “this project is missing something” to translate into “you are not enough”? It’s my biggest struggle.

  I remember working so hard as a kid, bringing home grades most of my friends envied. But in my house, any grade lower than an 85 meant I would be grounded. Average was not good enough. And neither was I, I heard. I still hear that voice, over a decade later. Average doesn’t cut it. If it isn’t perfect on the first try, the voice in my head tells me I’ve failed.

  My parents only intended to draw out my full potential, but because of shame and unhealthy striving, my own perfectionism continually chipped away at my sense of self-worth.

  In her book, Banish Your Inner Critic, Denise Jacobs says:

  Born from experiences internalized early in life, the Inner Critic is an amalgamation of every critical thing we’ve ever heard (or thoug
ht we heard) from people of influence. In their attempts to push us to conform to the norms of society, parents, older family members or caretakers, teachers, coaches, siblings, peers, and friends are a fount of criticism-filled messages. In our impressionable state, we internalize these criticisms. We model them, viewing ourselves from a place of criticism and judgment. We may even unconsciously emulate the negative beliefs that the people closest to us hold about themselves. 19

  Sometimes expectations are unrealistic and criticism isn’t constructive. It’s important to know the difference. Criticism is constructive when it holds a balance of encouragement and challenge. If feedback pushes you to be a better person or improve the quality of your work, that’s a good thing. But if criticism makes you feel devalued as a person or smells of shame or fear, it can never be helpful. It is madness to think you can be built up while also being torn down. Shame and fear cannot coexist with love and encouragement.

  Life comes with lots of editors: some we invite into our work, and some invite themselves. There are people who peek over our shoulders to tell us exactly what we should have done, when all we were hoping for was compassion. It’s tough being criticized at every turn.

  As soon as I penned that last sentence, Mike the Inner Critic showed up, whispering his incessant bullshit. “Weak! Pansy! Flower! Snowflake! Sissy!” But are those names true? No. In fact, it takes great strength of character and immense patience to view a sometimes-cruel, critical world with compassion. Plus, when criticism rears its ugly head, we need inner peace. And being a carrier of peace in the face of harsh words is not for the faint of heart.

  We experience pain we never asked for—people and institutions cause us harm and distress. We’ll be disappointed countless times, but peace is this idea that really bad days come, and we press on. Peace is calm inside when we’re in the middle of a raging sea. Being a carrier of peace is a decision: No point in losing my shit today. It won’t do me or anyone else any good. Peace believes that the promise of a better tomorrow outweighs the difficulty of this particular moment.

  Criticism can be painful, whether it comes from inside or out. But inner peace refuses to accept the lie that we’re through. Peace believes there is more to the story. When others gossip or whisper, peace doesn’t ignore the gnarly details, but is confident in our own resourcefulness and ability to grow. To carry peace is to choose kindness over judgment, compassion instead of criticism, and optimism instead of negativity, within ourselves.

  Maybe it’s your boss, your in-laws, or the stranger at the grocery store who shames you for allowing your two-year-old to have a sugar cookie at 10 a.m. (sometimes you just want to grocery shop in peace, right?). Or maybe it’s internet trolls who get some cheap thrill out of picking fights in the comment section. Even if you did invite someone else into your life, only you get to decide how to respond. Let compassion determine how much weight you give those opinions.

  No matter what criticism says, we need to show up and tell the truth. We can’t compare the chaos we feel inside with the calm we perceive on the outside of other people. We’re all good at pretending. Comparison is the enemy of self-compassion. In reality, we are the only people keeping track of all of our imperfections. On bad days, our inner Mike (or whatever your critic is named) can say some really nasty things that we would never-in-a-million-years say to anybody else. I understand the struggle, but screw you, Mike. I’m done.

  I’m done with all the criticalizin’. Done fighting who I am, just so that I don’t offend anyone else. I’m done trying to live up to unrealistic expectations, whether internal or external. I’m done feeling ashamed for the way I am wired. I’m done saying that I love my neighbor while I secretly hate myself. I’m done trying to perform just to keep others comfortable.

  Truthfully, I’ve been done for a while, though it’s still a battle. I decided to start loving me. I am enough, exactly as I am. I am thankful to be loved by lots of people, but the truth is that I don’t need the approval of friends or family in order to love myself.

  If you’ve never fought the inner critic, today is a new day. Say it with me: today is a new day. I have everything I need for today. It’s time we stop speaking to ourselves from a place of condemnation and self-hatred. The sacred journey from chaos to calm includes living from a place of peace and compassion. It’s all inside us already and we don’t need anyone’s permission to step into it. So get to steppin’.

  If…

  you’re tired of being so hard on yourself…

  you’re sick of lies that say you are broken…

  you want to start a journey of embracing this one life you have…

  ...then join me in fighting the inner critic. It’s tough work, but so worth it. After years of practice, most days I can shut Mike’s dirty mouth by taking a deep breath and shifting my focus to the inner voice of Love and compassion. You deserve to hear the inner voice of Love, too. It might take time and, if your inner critic is as big of a pain in the ass as mine, it might take support from a good therapist or life coach to kick him to the curb. But no matter what, let shutting him up be a top priority. It’s time to stop all that criticalizin’!

  seven:

  Throw Everything Over

  Don’t speak just yet.

  Sink into this place.

  Sit in your heart.

  Close your eyes if you must,

  Breathe in,

  Breathe out,

  Feel the beating of your heart.20

  —Jennifer Williamson

  One Friday night in late May, about twenty-five years ago, my friend’s grandpa called. “Hey kiddo, why don’t you pack a bag and come spend the night? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Andy swears he knew what it was right away. He had begged his grandpa to take him fishing for months. All he could think about was how much fun they’d have in the old flat-bottom boat and how many fish they’d catch.

  Sure enough, fishing was the plan. Andy could hardly get to sleep and was bouncing like Tigger the next morning. Grandpa placed a finger over his lips, “Shh! Grandma’s still sleeping. Don’t want to wake the bear!”

  When they got to the lake, Andy helped his grandpa load up the boat. By the time they were done, there wasn’t much room for them: there were two fishing poles, a jug of water, a lunch box, an ice cooler, and a beat-up coloring book and crayons Grandma had packed, just in case little Andy became bored. There was also a coffee can full of dirt and worms, a net to bring in the catch, a battery-powered radio, sunscreen, life jackets, two paddles, a trolling motor, and Grandpa’s wide-brim hat. The boat, to say the least, was pretty full.

  Andy was wide-eyed with adventure and possibility as Grandpa pushed them away from the dock. It was sure to be a perfect day, judging by the cool of the morning and the fog on the water. Pretty soon, something else had caught his attention.

  Grandpa turned off the motor and turned to see what Andy was giggling about. “Look, Grandpa! This water is cold,” he said, splashing his feet in it. Surprised and bewildered, Grandpa yelled, “Oh, no! Tell me I didn’t forget the drain plug!” The water kept climbing and Andy was getting scared. Grandpa dumped the worms out of the coffee can and frantically started scooping water from around their feet.

  It was too late. The little trolling motor wouldn’t crank. Grandpa swore under his breath, grabbed a paddle, and paddled hard and fast, desperate to get his grandson to safety. But the weight was slowing them down.

  “Throw everything over, Andy!” Grandpa stopped paddling long enough to grab the cooler and throw it in the water as Andy chucked everything he could reach. But the water kept rising. It was too late.

  “Come on. We’ve gotta swim!”

  It’s my buddy’s favorite story. Now a father with kids of his own, Andy looks back with a deep belly laugh and a little tear in his eye at the day he and his Grandpa sank the old flat bottom boat. “But we made it back,
nothing hurt but Grandpa’s pride.”

  Throw everything over! My friend says he returns to that advice anytime life feels like too much and he thinks he may drown under the weight of stress, family responsibilities, and work demands.

  “You can either hold onto the coloring sheets and can of worms,” my friend says, “or you can get your ass back to the pier. Life goes on, even if you’re a sopping mess.”

  Andy’s grandpa had all the best intentions, but sometimes good intentions aren’t enough when your life starts to take on water. Maybe it’s substantial debt or the extra job you no longer need. Perhaps it’s your lack of saying “no” to your children, fearing you’ll harm them if you don’t provide for their every whim and desire. Maybe you came off your depression meds sooner than you needed to and shame is whispering, “You’re a failure if you have to call the doctor again.” Whatever it is, the only way you’re going to make it back when your life has taken on too much chaos is to get rid of all the non-essential cargo.

  How? It starts by saying “no.” Saying “no” doesn’t make you a bad person or a mean parent. “No” isn’t a four-letter word. It doesn’t make you a bad employee or selfish. Byron Katie says sometimes, saying “no” to people or projects is actually saying a great big “yes” to yourself. When is the last time you said “no” to reclaim your sanity and serenity? Boundaries aren’t comfortable when you first start setting them. But they’re like the drain plug in Grandpa’s old boat: if you neglect them, you’ll take on more responsibility and pressure than you can possibly keep afloat.