A Letter to Myself (and to My Inner Critic)

I see your progress, and I hear your self-judgment. Let’s write today, even if it’s just for twenty five minutes.

Photo by Tyler Nix on Unsplash

I am stressed tonight, it is hard to sit down and write. It is hard to write with the intention to click ‘publish.’ Especially when everything that comes out is raw and without a point and… I don’t know, it is words and words.

Released.

Release.

I write and my fingers are hesitating, typing and deleting, and the editing voice is interfering, second-guessing everything.

I sit hunched and stiff looking at the screen, I am judging myself judging myself, and —

Here is a letter to myself

Dear Yael,

This is a shitty first draft. It’s a free-write, it’s a brainstorm. It’s asking you to let go. Surrender, soften. You can’t control it, you will learn and practice and make it better. You are on the path. I promise. I don’t make many promises. But trust me, or really, trust yourself.

You are on the path, on your path. And I am proud of you.

I am proud of you for showing up. I am proud of you for writing, this word, and this one. You are doing great. You are being yourself. You, one part of you, might judge those words, I hear you, judge and critic. Show yourself.

What the inner critic says:

You sound stupid and cliched and fuck I can’t believe you are writing about ‘doing great’ and ‘being yourself’ and why are you putting this on the internet, who cares?? and you didn’t finish putting away the clothing, why are you so disorganized, and stop holding your muscles tightly it’s your fault there is tension, why can’t you relax? it’s your fault your stomach is upset today too, why did you fuck it up, and you ate too much, and you gained weight, and why didn’t you figure out (x) yet? also you still sound stupid, and shame shame, and…

etc.

A letter to the inner-critic

Hello judge, hello critic. I hear you, and there is space for your voice to be here too.

I hear you, and I am not you, and I do not need to listen to you.

You say I sound stupid. Okay. I can live with that. I’m still going to write. I’m still going to practice.

You say it’s my fault that my body feels tense, that if anything is wrong it must be my fault. That isn’t true. I will not feel ashamed or guilty. Not today.

You say I gained weight, like that is wrong, or it makes me less worthy. That is bullshit.

…

And I didn’t finish, fine, fine, fine. This is part of the practice. I’m doing this for myself.

Dear Yael,

Thank you for showing up. Even if it is only for twenty five minutes.