What If Being Hard on Yourself Is No Longer Helping?

I should have done better.

Why did I say that?

I should be able to cope with this.

Everyone else seems to manage.

I need to try harder.

Most of us probably recognise at least one version of that voice. 

Most of us probably recognise at least one version of that voice.

I certainly do.

Sometimes it’s loud and impossible to ignore. Other times, it’s much quieter, almost like a constant running commentary in the background.

We often call it our inner critic.

And interestingly, from a psychological perspective, that critical voice isn’t always there to make us feel bad. It can develop as a way of trying to protect us from mistakes, rejection or failure. The difficulty is that something intended to keep us safe can also leave us feeling constantly under pressure.

And there’s plenty written about how we should quieten it, challenge it or learn to be kinder to ourselves.

But I’ve become interested in another question.

What if being hard on yourself has actually worked?

After all it got you here

Maybe self-criticism kept you achieving.

Maybe worrying about getting things wrong meant you prepared thoroughly.

High expectations kept you working.

Being hard on yourself meant you didn’t give up.

Maybe noticing everybody else’s needs helped you fit in, stay connected or avoid conflict.

When something has helped us function for years, it makes sense that we don’t simply stop doing it because someone tells us to practise self-compassion.

There may be a reason it’s there.

That’s something I’m often curious about in coaching.

Not:

How do we get rid of this?

But:

What has this been doing for you?

The things that help us can also have a cost

Something can be useful and exhausting at the same time.

The pressure that helped you achieve might make it difficult to rest.

The high standards that produced good work might mean nothing ever feels quite good enough.

Being aware of other people’s reactions might help you navigate relationships, while leaving very little space for your own needs.

And the voice that once kept you moving might eventually become the voice that tells you you’re never doing enough.

That’s where another question can become interesting:

Is this still helping me in the way it once did?

The answer doesn’t have to be yes or no.

Often it’s more complicated than that.

Self-compassion isn’t letting yourself off the hook

I think this is one reason self-compassion can feel uncomfortable.

If we’ve relied on pressure or criticism to keep ourselves going, being gentler with ourselves can feel risky.

If I stop pushing myself, will I become lazy?

If I accept this, am I just making excuses?

If I’m not hard on myself, how will I improve?

But self-compassion isn’t the same as pretending something doesn’t matter.

Researcher Kristin Neff describes self-compassion through three broad elements: kindness towards ourselves, recognising that struggle is part of being human, and being able to notice difficult experiences without becoming completely consumed by them.

There’s still room for responsibility.

There’s still room for change.

There’s still room to acknowledge when we’ve got something wrong.

The difference is in the relationship we have with ourselves while we do it.

What would you say to somebody else?

This question is often used when we talk about self-compassion:

Would you speak to a friend the way you speak to yourself?

It’s a useful question.

But I sometimes think there’s another one worth exploring:

Why does it feel acceptable to speak to yourself in a way you wouldn’t speak to somebody else?

What are you hoping the criticism will achieve?

What are you frightened might happen without it?

Whose standards are you measuring yourself against?

And when did you learn that being hard on yourself was the way to keep going?

There might be something important underneath the criticism.

Maybe we don’t have to fight the critic either

There’s a certain irony in becoming critical of ourselves for being self-critical.

I shouldn’t think like this.

Why can’t I stop overthinking?

I know I need to be kinder to myself.

Another thing to get wrong.

Curiosity can gives us another way in.

Instead of immediately trying to silence that voice, we might notice it.

What is it saying?

When does it become louder?

What seems to trigger it?

And what might it be trying to protect us from?

We don’t have to agree with everything it says in order to understand why it’s there.

A different relationship with ourselves

For me, this is where the deeper work often sits.

Not in becoming endlessly positive about ourselves.

Not in never feeling disappointed.

And certainly not in pretending everything we do is fine.

But in developing a relationship with ourselves where mistakes, uncertainty and difficult days don’t automatically become evidence that there’s something wrong with us.

Where we can notice what needs to change without attacking ourselves for being human.

Where encouragement doesn’t always have to come through pressure.

And where our inner voice isn’t the thing we constantly have to recover from.

What happens when we change the question from:

How can I stop being so hard on myself?

to:

What have I believed being hard on myself would do for me… and do I still need it to do that now?

A space to explore

If some of this feels familiar, coaching can offer a space to explore the patterns underneath self-criticism rather than simply trying to think more positively.

I’m Rachel Richards, an ICF-accredited reflective and transformative coach. I work with adults who may be managing well on the outside, but underneath feel overwhelmed, disconnected, stuck or unsure of what they want next.

If you’d like to explore this or something else that’s showing up in your life, I offer a free chemistry call. It’s a chance for us to meet, talk about what’s bringing you to coaching and see whether working together feels right.