I can’t remember exactly when I met most of my childhood friends. In many cases, it seems as though they’ve just always been there. Did they introduce themselves to me at school, or did our parents bring us together? I’m never quite sure. All I know for certain is that they’ve played an undeniable, formative role in my life.
One of my oldest friends has yet to leave my side. She’s been with me since the first grade when she told me that I was too stupid to do well in math, so I choked on the test. As we got older together, this friend watched as I navigated puberty and early adulthood. She judged my growing body and imperfect skin with conviction. She told me that nobody would ever choose me besides her. I believed her before I got the chance to think for myself.
I’ve moved away from home now, but this friend still stops by every now and then. We clash more often as I gently remind her that I am fine just the way that I am. But she has a way with words, and I don’t make nearly enough noise to drown out our 18 year companionship.
This old friend is my Inner Critic, and she knows me better than anyone else. She remembers the little girl that I once was: All of her shortcomings, biggest insecurities and fears that latched on and never seemed to let go. Most people tell me she’s toxic for reminding me, but who am I to tell her she’s wrong? She was there.
As I said, I can’t recall exactly when we met, but I know one thing for sure. The first time I came face to face with her, she protected me.
She watched and listened as the world crept in on my innocence: A body that once equipped me to play all of my favorite games became clay in need of reshaping. She listened as my interests, self-expression, and struggles were confounded by overwhelming expectations.
To this day, she reminds me that the world is not always understanding of who I’ve been or who I long to become. She’s preemptively decided that I will look, act, and live a certain way, even if it kills me.
She has succeeded in protecting me from forces that make me feel unsafe, unaccepted, and unwanted. But as I grow older, I’m learning that while she keeps me safe, she is even more successful in preventing me from living.
Since meeting her, I’ve experienced more of the world, met uplifting people, and challenged myself to do scary things. Along the way, I’ve become well-acquainted with Self-Compassion.
I am older now, and my Self-Compassion can’t help but come face-to-face with my Inner Critic and ask, “Is all of this worth the cost of myself?
Like most old friends, I know that my Inner Critic will remain a constant presence in my life. At times, it may even feel like she's the only one truly looking out for me. While I do not hope to let her go completely, I know that now is the time to reintroduce her to who I am becoming.
With Self-Compassion, I will ask her what she needs: Is it trust, letting go, or unconditional acceptance? When she replies, I will promise her that she is safe with me and the life we are building.
I will prove to her that everything we were told about ourselves isn’t all true. I will show her that if something scares me, it’s often because at one point, it meant something to us. And that’s a good thing.
As we navigate our 20s, she may comment on the fact that I have nothing figured out or doubt my abilities to create a fulfilling life.
I will not ignore her, but I will listen to her worries with a guarded ear. If she tells me something is scary, I will say that we will do it afraid.
More than anything, though, I will thank her for keeping younger me safe. At one point in time, she knew me better than anyone else, and she worked hard to protect me.
Just like any old friend, it's easy to catch up right where we left off, but I know better now. I know that I am well-equipped to embrace the parts of myself that have always been, and will always be, undeniable.
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