I’ve been working on taking time every morning and evening to prepare my mind and body for the day and night ahead. I’ve found that this simple task regulates my mood and improves my ability to stay in the present moment. I’ve been taking time every week to journal about what has come up and set intentions for the week ahead. I am learning what prayer looks like for me at this age. It is different from what I imagined.
During meditation this morning, I called up my inner critic, desiring to meet the part of myself that keeps me safe with anger, fear, doubt, and lies. Sharing space with my inner critic felt cramped and full of pressure. My inner critic is protective of the small child inside of me. I could tell it did not like to move from the place in my body where these feelings and messages hide.
It appeared to me like a black pillar, thick and smoky, with a powerful core. It told me I am unworthy and that it won’t matter anyway. Entering into conversation with the critic only made these feelings wash heavier over me. I have never been told I can focus on why I feel like complaining so much some times. I didn’t realize that was my inner critic seeping out, begging to be heard and held, not pushing people or ideas or progress away.
I am a procrastinator. I have constant decision fatigue, believing the critic who tells me nothing matters. Who tells me I don’t matter. When I started focusing on the words and the feelings that come from those words my critic likes to say, I could see my mother and my sisters inside of the smoky black pillar. Telling me I don’t matter. That it will never change.
I like the thought of becoming friends with that part of me. Perhaps holding its hand, making it laugh, and helping it see that the world is not to be passed by, is not to prove your worth to other people, will help it feel less alone. Will help it feel heard. Perhaps by hearing that critic and seeing it more often I can give myself the voice that can speak for us both. Maybe complaints do tell you where the problems are. Listen to them—especially when they come from you.
Chapter 3. 