Musings

I love critics. Don’t you?

I suppose I should love critics because I can be one too. Yes. I suffer from the ‘Better Than Thou’ syndrome from time to time. I can’t help it. It just sneaks up on me. Especially when I’m faced with an idiot who steps right over the handy mat I’ve placed outside the front door and then stomps all over my pretty hallway carpet in their mud-caked boots. (Yeah, you know who you are.)

There I go again. The ever loving critic. If only there was a pill for it.

I criticize myself too. In fact, I’m all the world’s nastiest critics rolled up into one mean, spiteful ball when I look at myself. And it isn’t pretty.

Like right now with this post I’m writing. The critic inside me is saying,

“What a load of crap!”

“Who’ll want to read this steaming mess?”

“Why do you even bother?”

“Just leap off a bridge and die!” (This gem comes out when I’ve let the little bugger take centre stage too long).

Yeah, it can get crazy in my head. I doubt there’s anything the trolliest troll on earth could say to me that my inner critic hasn’t already.

And yet I push on.

I’m guessing you do too.

And isn’t that interesting? We all have this part of us that’s waiting gleefully in the shadows to pounce on our dreams and hopes. And then there’s this other part of us that lets us look in the mirror and smile.

It’s the ‘yes’ and the ‘no’.

Sometimes the ‘yes’ outweighs the ‘no’ and life feels wonderful. Sometimes the ‘no’ is powerful and life feels like a pit of despair.

Maybe if we could kill the ‘no’ life would be heaven every day.

Nice thought but I hate to break it to you, you can’t kill the critic. Believe me, I’ve tried, from strangling it with its own tights, to driving a stake through its heart, chopping off its head, and then burning the smelly remains. But the damn thing is tougher than a vampire on steroids. It rises from the dead again and again.

So I’ve had to accept that life is a constant search for ‘all right’. The balance between ‘yes’ and ‘no’. And nowadays whenever my inner critic raises its thorny head, I take a potshot at it with my ‘all right’ gun.

I remind myself, ‘I’m all right just as I am’.

So what if the things I do, or the words I write, or the not-so-witty things I say don’t set the world on fire? Because no matter what my inner critic says, I’m the best me there ever was, with all my crazy individual faults and quirks. Nobody could be me better.

And nobody could be you better either.

Something to be proud of, isn’t it?