Breaking the spell

Dancing with the Inner Critic

There’s a voice in my head that never learned when to shut up.
You know the one—it whispers when I’m about to try something new, speaks up when I dare to dream, and sometimes screams when I’m on the edge of growth: “You’re not good enough. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Who do you think you are?”
Mine has style, too—sometimes it’s a snarky aunt, sometimes a scary teacher, sometimes my own voice, just meaner.

Most days, I call her my inner jailer. But you might know her as the inner critic, the saboteur, the shadow in your mind who wants to keep you safe by keeping you small.

And here’s the wild thing:
Almost everyone I know carries one, and she’s an absolute pro at keeping us in check.

Where Does the Critic Come From?

The inner critic isn’t just random noise.
According to Psychology Today, this voice is the product of a fractured self—one part is the critic, the other is our “experiencing self.” That critic borrows lines from parents, teachers, and old wounds, internalizing every “should,” “never,” and “always” we’ve ever heard.
It whispers, “You must…” and “You’ll never…”
It pushes us to be perfect, and when we’re not, it slams us with shame.

Sometimes it masquerades as “motivation.” Sometimes it’s just a broken record of doubt and fear.
And the more ambitious, creative, or wild-hearted you are, the louder that voice can get.

Why Fighting the Critic Doesn’t Work

Like Steve Chapman shared in his TED talk, the critic’s favorite trick is to hide in plain sight. He even made a mask and a puppet of his critic—giving it a face, drawing it, and dragging it out of the shadows.
He discovered that the more he tried to fight or prove the critic wrong, the stronger it became.
In fact, the critic thrives on opposition. The more you strive to “defeat” it, the more it roots in—feeding on every effort to improve, to get “good enough.”

Psychology Today backs this up:
The critic doesn’t vanish just because you push back. The real transformation comes from awareness and witnessing. From seeing the critic for what it is—a scared, well-intentioned, outdated part of you.
A flatmate who pays the rent, but definitely doesn’t get to decorate.

How to Dance With, Not Battle, the Critic

The paradox is that change doesn’t come from waging war with your critic, but from inviting it to dance.

  1. Name and Externalize It

Draw it, sculpt it, give it a mask or a silly name.
(I call mine “Aunty Not-Enough”—what’s yours?)

  1. If You Don’t Draw, Write

Not everyone wants to make art.
Try this instead: old-fashioned letter writing.

  • Grab a pen and paper (typing doesn’t hit as deep).
  • Start a letter: “Dear [Critic’s Name]…”
  • Let every thought spill—anger, shame, gratitude, fear.
  • Write in rounds: do a little, set it aside, come back days later, keep going until you’ve said it all.
  • When you’re done, thank your critic for trying to protect you, and invite them to be a partner, not a jailer.
  • End with a ritual: burn the letters, rip them up, or bury them. Let the body feel the release.
Open notebook on a wooden bench beside calm water, representing self-reflection and inner healing.
  1. Two-Chair Dialogue (Therapy Tool)

Imagine the critic sits opposite you.
Say what you need to say. Then swap seats—let the critic respond.
You can even do this on the page: two columns, one for each voice.

  1. In Hypnotherapy

Sometimes it’s easier to call out the critic in trance—a safe space where your deeper mind can dialogue without shame or fear. You can speak directly, learn what the critic is really trying to do for you, and renegotiate its role.

  1. Spot the Language

Listen for “always,” “never,” “should,” “must.”
That’s the critic talking. Your experiencing self is softer, more curious, more open to possibility.

The Truth: The Critic Never Really Leaves

You don’t ever “kill” the critic.
Instead, you learn to bear witness—to notice its voice, to give it space, and to take back your power by refusing to let it drive your life.
The inner critic, when brought into the light, loses its authority. Sometimes it even becomes your muse—the trickster who helps you stay humble, but no longer cages you.

Creativity is your human birthright.
Difference is your source of transformation.
And dancing with your demons is how you reclaim your wildest self.

So go ahead—give your critic a name, a face, a letter, a dance.
Let them speak, let them try to keep you small, then thank them and get back to living, loving, and rebelling.

 

If you need a hand, or a hypnotic journey to meet your critic, you know where to find me. We’ll call your demons into the circle, dance with them, and make them your allies—never your jailers.

Disclaimer: This article is intended for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for diagnosis and treatment.

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