Learning To Silence Your Inner Critic

No one wakes up one morning and decides, "Today, I think I'll start hating myself and making questionable life choices."

We all have that voice. The one that tries to tell you all the reasons why you're not good enough, smart enough, disciplined enough, or, in the context of sobriety, strong enough.

It's the shit that comes to mind right after you've had a tough day: "See? You're a mess. What's even the point? You might as well just give up." Or the one that attacks your past: "Look at all the stupid things you’ve done. You're never going to escape that."

That voice, as convincing and persistent as it is, isn't you.

It's a byproduct of past experiences, fears, and sometimes, a misplaced attempt by your brain to "protect" you by keeping you in your comfort zone (even if that comfort zone is a raging dumpster fire).

When you’re searching for a way to absolute sobriety or a path of bettering yourself, that inner critic can be the single biggest obstacle. It’s the reason you might white-knuckle it for a few days, only to relapse because the self doubt comes creeping back in.

It can so easily become a frequent occurrence to gain a little momentum in your sobriety, just to come crashing back down.

Why bother trying to change when you're already a lost cause? The deconstruction of your self-perception becomes the fuel for the choices you continue to make.

Why Bother?

The foundation for my internal monologue was laid early. While I struggled in active addiction, the pressure and judgment from my family felt absolutely cruel. The way my parents reacted didn't translate to concern; it became a relentless sense of failure.

I’d hit a milestone—maybe a few weeks sober, a job interview, a small win—and instead of seeing hope, they’d see the time I messed up last Tuesday. There was no understanding of the effort it took to just fucking show up.

To them, the "real" signs of improvement weren't visible because they were looking for a completely different person, instantly. Their inability to just show up for me with unconditional faith (which I can’t really blame them for and I have a much better understanding of now) left me feeling isolated, incapable, worthless, and like their lives would be better without the burden of me around.

They were so convinced I wouldn't change, that for a long time, I didn't see the point in trying. Why bother climbing a mountain when everyone at the bottom is already waiting for you to fall?

So, I stayed stuck. Doing the same things I was already accustomed to doing. The same things everyone was already expecting me to do.

Men.

My external world became a mirror of my internal chaos. If you want a masterclass in low self-worth, look no further than the relationships I chose. I didn’t per se “seek out” toxic relationships with intent or purpose, but somehow always found myself in them.

I ended up with men who treated me exactly how I felt about myself—like I wasn't worth a damn thing. Funny how that works. Well, wasn’t at the time, but now looking back we can laugh a little.

It's such a cliché, and yet, so raw-fully true: I gravitated toward relationships ruled by toxicity and neglect. When they failed to provide the ideal love, respect, or support, it didn't surprise me. It just confirmed my suspicions: I was unlovable and fundamentally worthless. Every disappointment was just another bullet point proving my own self-assessment right.

Society & AGAIn, Men.

Society is quick to pin destructive labels on people — “once a user, always a user,” “once a junkie, always a junkie,”or the definitive “They’ll never change.” Yet, little does society consider that while facing these well-known stigmas, this “junkie” was already consumed by the very real, agonizing regret of her own past actions.

The wounds that cut deepest. Many mistakenly believe that an addict’s focus on their substance means they have no regard for anyone or anything else. Addiction is frequently a desperate, misguided attempt to numb the overwhelming feelings tied to things that matter deeply, not a sign that those things have ceased to matter.

Her father’s nasty, venomous comments about me—the things he said when I was at my worst—they stuck with me. Repeating like a broken record: Your daughter is better off without you. You’ll never be a part of her life. You’re a waste.

When you internalize external venom, it's impossible to tell the difference between their hate and your own beliefs.

If I didn’t choose to challenge those thoughts and rewire my inner dialogue I wouldn’t be sitting here sharing this message with you today.

You won’t find me sugar coating shit - It’s really hard.

No matter what you’re trying to tell yourself, you’re more than capable. I know it feels safer to just believe the lies, because at least you know what to expect.

But if there is one thing—just one—I can offer you that might spark a tiny, rebellious flicker of hope, let it be this:

Every single thing that voice, my parents, society, and those toxic exes told me was true... I ended up proving wrong.

"You'll never get sober." Oh yeah? I did. And I’m still sober.

"You’ll never make anything of yourself." Cute. I made something of myself.

"You’ll never be a good mother." My daughter is back in my life, and frankly, I am a great mother.

The only thing standing between you and a better life is the ridiculous notion that you don't deserve it. You do. Now, it’s time to prove that voice wrong.

Try These …

1. Name It, Don't Be It (The Distancing Technique)

Give it a name. Seriously. Call it Susan. Or whatever else you choose…

• Actionable Step: When a critical thought pops up ("You’ll never be able to stop drinking"), immediately reframe it: "Ah, there's Susan with her insightful commentary again. Thanks for the input, Susan, but I'll take it from here."

This simple act creates psychological distance and strips the thought of its authority.

2. The Fact-Check & Evidence Search

The critic rarely deals with reality; it deals in catastrophizing and selective memory. When it tells you something awful search for counter-evidence.

• Actionable Step: Write down a negative thought ("I'm a terrible friend/daughter/employee"). Now, draw a line down the middle of the page. On the other side, list three specific things you've done in the last week that prove that thought wrong. Did you show up on time? Did you make a dinner reservation? Did you call to check-in on them? Those are wins. Acknowledge them.

3. Talk to Yourself Like You Talk to Your Best Friend

Would you ever look your best friend in the eye and say, "You know, you're just not capable of happiness, and you deserve all the terrible things that happen to you"? Absolutely not. You'd give them a hug and some sort of makeshift motivational speech

• Actionable Step: When the critic pipes up shift your perspective. What would your most loving, non-judgmental friend say to you right now? Say that to yourself.

4. The Power of "Yet"

The critic loves absolutes: "I can't do this." "I'm never going to make it.”

• Actionable Step: Whenever you catch yourself using a negative absolute, simply add the word "yet."

"I'm not good at setting boundaries... yet."

"I haven't figured out how to save money... yet."

"I don't feel totally confident... yet."

It shifts the mindset from a permanent failure to a temporary state of learning. It’s simple, but it works.

Don’t waste years internalizing doubt and your own shame. Act against the narrative, and the game changes. You don’t have to wait for anyone else to validate your worth. Nothing is more satisfying than proving everyone (including that voice in your head) just how wrong they were.

It starts with you <3