Not Even Good Enough at Being a Perfectionist!
The struggle with the critical voice in my head
There is a voice in my head that sounds like me, but it is not me. Her name is Miss Critic and she is a clever one.
She doesn’t say, “you’re worthless. You’re stupid. You’re ugly. You can’t get anything right.” No, she’s more subtle than that. Stealthy in fact. She whispers to me bittersweet nothings, most of the time so quietly that I’m barely aware she’s even talking. When she does talk, she speaks to me in “buts.”
She says, “you’re looking good Alison, but you could lose a couple of kilos.”
She says, “you’re intelligent, but no one will take you seriously unless you have a PhD.”
She says, “you’re a good daughter seeing your parents often, but you shouldn’t be irritated by them when you spend time with them.”
She says, “you worked hard today, but you’re not productive enough.”
She says, “well done for completing that new pole move, but your form was terrible.”
She’s not a monster. She doesn’t torture me. There’s no dwelling, no rumination, no sadness — most of the time anyway. She serves up her “buts” and moves on. It’s just how it is. Her and me, how it’s always been. In fact, I’m sure she’s pushed me to…
