Conditioning the inner critic

2025-09-20

The inner critic is that voice of ours that reminds us of the standards we set for ourselves. Those may be of our own making or forced upon us by the role we assume in society. Whatever their origin, standards serve a normative function: to judge what we have against what we ought to have. Having such a critic is a consequence of caring or, simply, of being self-aware. As such, it is highly unlikely that we can altogether silence or remove that voice from inside of our head. It will keep nagging us, always drawing comparisons and continuously keeping us on edge. Muting it would probably not be a good idea, anyway, else we risk falling into complacency and ultimately disintegration.

I am happy with the standards I set for myself. They are demanding and inspire me to keep going. I am not sated when, for example, I have published one article but still have plenty of free time for another (like today). If I can do better, I want to be putting in the effort. Failure is acceptable, provided I did not take the easy way out. For example, I am now typing these words. If the thoughts do not flow alla prima, I will accept defeat and recognise my limits. But I shall never give up ahead of time when the outcome is not already clear (if I have 10 minutes of battery left, then I will not even try because I know I cannot write a comprehensive entry in such a short time).

The inner critic is a ruthless bastard. Nobody questions him while he has the power to destroy me. At least such was the dynamic at times when I did not treat myself with enough respect. I would labour under a double standard where it was acceptable for others to fall short of their stated values while I could not afford to show any sign of weakness. I eventually learnt to care for myself at the emotional level. This is still a tough form of love, mind you, in which I still demand hard work, but I nevertheless do not despise failure. To fail while trying in earnest is honourable. Indeed, this is the essence of sportspersonship: there can only be one winner but the losers are still honouring their peers and respecting themselves by following the rules and by gracefully accepting the loss.

Sore losers are those who do not want to work with their inner critic in pursuit of improving themselves. In their head, they are faultless as it is always some external factor that prevents them from achieving their goals. In sport the dynamics are fairly simple, but the same applies to the more complex world of our quotidian life. I can expound at length on all the systemic features that make my efforts harder and, at times, I am justified to believe that I am at the receiving end of structural injustice. Yet I do not want to stop there. That is what the sore loser or the defeatist does. I want to work day and night in preparation for the day when I make one step forward and then continue on to eventually reverse the trend. I shall not relent and will never allow all the analyses and their intellectuality to stand as an excuse for inaction.

Insistence is not necessarily a virtue though. If the standard is not realistic, then all the effort is futile and becomes self-destructive. One must revise their views, bring the targets closer, while acknowledging that those can be set to a higher level in the future. The key is to remain adaptable by retaining situational awareness.

This is where conditioning comes in. While my inner critic cannot be attacked directly, he can get used to a new state of affairs. His impervious shelter does not save him from the changing environment. I introduce disruptions in progressively more intense steps, thus allowing myself time to come to terms with the new normal. The selfie project I committed to recently is a testament to this mode of conduct. It may sound strange to admit, but I detest looking at my own pictures. “Something” unsettles me, but I cannot pinpoint it. I guess knowing the cause does not really make a difference in this case, as what I want is the same: to get used to something as simple as seeing what the camera is showing, without any further considerations.

Controlled discomfort empowers us to grow. It does so by gradually eroding the realm of the familiar. The known is not necessarily comfortable, even though this is a common bias we have. Reason helps us comprehend the drawbacks with what we have and then to anticipate how things may stand in a future arrangement of the applicable factors of the case.

“To what end?” is a question that ultimately forces us into indecision. I do not need a transcendent telos to do this little thing. By recognising the banality of the task—indeed the banality of everything I do—I lower the stakes while also resisting the temptation to faint knowledge of magnitudes outside the scope of what I can fathom. “It is just a picture, mate”, I would respond, “do not overthink it”.