The Inner Critic: Perfectionism's Pesky Side-Kick
A few months ago, I was helping someone edit a document in Google Docs.
If you’ve ever collaborated in Google Docs, you know that when someone reviews your suggested edits, the platform notifies you whether each suggestion was “accepted” or “rejected.”
Over the years, I had done quite a bit of editing work for this person. Most of my suggestions had been accepted. In fact, he regularly asked for my input and trusted me with important projects.
But on this particular document, several of my suggestions weren’t used.
As he worked through the document, the notifications started appearing:
Rejected.
Rejected.
Rejected.
Rejected.
At first, I wasn’t particularly bothered. I reminded myself that editing is subjective. I knew there had been countless accepted edits over the years. I knew this person valued my input, or he wouldn’t keep asking for it.
But as more notifications appeared, I noticed something happening inside me.
The facts hadn’t changed. My track record hadn’t changed. The relationship hadn’t changed.
But the conversation in my head had.
Maybe you’re not actually very good at this.
If your edits were better, he would have accepted them.
Maybe he’s starting to realize you’re not as capable as he thought.
Within a surprisingly short amount of time, I found myself questioning things I had felt confident about only hours earlier.
Looking back, what strikes me isn’t that I had a self-critical thought. Most of us do. What strikes me is how quickly that voice was able to dismiss years of evidence and replace it with a very different story.
One afternoon of rejected edits suddenly seemed more important than years of accepted ones.
And if I’m honest, this wasn’t the first time that had happened.
Most of us have some version of this voice. It shows up after mistakes, conflict, failure, embarrassment, or disappointment. It points out what went wrong, reminds us of our shortcomings, and predicts what will happen if we don’t do better.
Sometimes we call it self-criticism. Sometimes we call it negative self-talk. Whatever we call it, most of us are familiar with it.
Why Fighting the Critic Doesn’t Work
When that voice shows up, most of us tend to respond in one of two ways. We either believe what it says, or we try to fight it.
Sometimes we accept its conclusions without much examination. We replay the mistake, focus on what went wrong, and assume the critic is giving us an accurate assessment of ourselves. The more attention we give it, the more convincing it can become.
Other times, we push back. We argue with the voice in our heads, try to replace it with positive thoughts, or tell ourselves we shouldn’t be thinking that way. While that approach may feel different, it often keeps us just as focused on the critic as before.
I’ve found myself doing both. I’ve believed the critic when it told me I wasn’t good enough, and I’ve tried to reason with it when I knew it was being unfair. Neither approach has created much lasting freedom.
Over time, I’ve become interested in a different question. What if the goal isn’t believing the critic or battling it? What if the goal is understanding it?
That question eventually led me to a counseling framework called Internal Family Systems (IFS), developed by therapist Richard Schwartz. While there’s much more to the model than I can cover here, one of its core ideas is that many of our internal conflicts begin as attempts to solve a problem.
That includes the inner critic.
A Different Way to Understand the Inner Critic
At its core, IFS suggests that we all have different parts of ourselves that influence how we think, feel, and respond to the world around us. Most people recognize this experience naturally. One part of you may feel excited about a new opportunity while another part worries about what could go wrong. One part wants to have a difficult conversation while another part wants to avoid conflict altogether.
These different parts don’t mean something is wrong with us. According to IFS, they are normal aspects of being human that developed for a reason. One of the central ideas of the model is that even the parts we struggle with most are often trying to protect us, even when their methods create problems.
That creates a very different way of thinking about the inner critic. Instead of asking, “How do I get rid of this voice?” IFS encourages us to ask a different question:
“What is this voice trying to do for me?”
What the Inner Critic Is Trying to Do
If the inner critic is trying to help, what exactly is it trying to accomplish?
The answer will be different for each person, but many inner critics share a common goal: protection.
The critic may believe that if it points out every mistake, you’ll avoid failure. If it keeps you striving, you’ll stay motivated. If it makes you think twice before speaking up, you’ll avoid embarrassment. If it reminds you of past mistakes, you’ll be less likely to repeat them.
In other words, the critic often believes it is helping.
The problem is that the strategies it uses can be costly. Imagine a coach who believes the only way to help an athlete improve is through constant criticism. The coach may genuinely want the athlete to succeed, but the method can eventually do more harm than good.
The inner critic often operates in a similar way. It assumes that pressure creates growth, criticism prevents failure, and vigilance keeps us safe. It works hard because it believes something important is at stake.
That doesn’t mean the critic is accurate or that we should simply listen to everything it says. But it does suggest there may be more going on beneath the criticism than we initially realize.
Instead of seeing the critic as an enemy, IFS invites us to consider a different possibility: what if this voice is trying to help, but using strategies that no longer serve us?
Where the Inner Critic Comes From
As we begin asking what the inner critic is trying to accomplish, another question naturally follows: where did it learn to do its job this way?
For many people, the critic didn’t appear out of nowhere. It developed over time in response to experiences, relationships, and environments that shaped how they learned to move through the world.
Some people grew up in families where achievement was highly valued. Others learned early that mistakes carried significant consequences. For some, criticism was common. For others, responsibility became closely tied to their sense of worth. In those environments, self-criticism may have felt useful. It may have helped them stay motivated, avoid disappointment, or earn approval.
Not everyone will recognize their story in those examples, but most of us can trace our patterns back to somewhere. The ways we think about ourselves, respond to mistakes, and measure our value rarely develop in a vacuum.
The point isn’t to blame parents, teachers, coaches, or anyone else who may have influenced us. Most people are doing the best they can with what they were given. The goal is simply to recognize that our internal patterns usually have a history.
And when we understand that history, something often shifts.
Instead of viewing the inner critic as evidence that something is wrong with us, we begin to see it as a strategy that developed for a reason. It may no longer serve us well, but understanding where it came from can help us relate to it with more clarity and less shame.
Why Understanding Creates Change
Many of us assume the inner critic will relax once we convince it that it’s wrong. In reality, that rarely works.
When we believe the critic, we get stuck inside its story. When we fight it, we often create another layer of conflict. Neither approach helps us understand what is driving the criticism in the first place.
There may be another option.
Instead of focusing only on what the critic is saying, we begin to wonder why it’s saying it.
Often, beneath the criticism, we find fears that have been driving the conversation all along: fear of rejection, failure, disappointment, or not being enough.
As I reflected on my own Google Docs experience, I realized my inner critic wasn’t just trying to make me feel bad. It was trying to protect me from something it believed was dangerous.
For a lot of my life, I’ve carried the belief that my worth is tied to my performance. If I do well, I’m valuable. If I fail, I’m not enough. Looking through that lens, it makes sense that a few rejected edits felt so threatening. My inner critic wasn’t just reacting to feedback. It was reacting to the possibility that maybe I wasn’t enough after all.
Recognizing that didn’t mean I had to agree with the critic. But I also didn’t have to keep fighting it.
Instead, I could acknowledge what it was trying to do. I could appreciate that it was trying to protect me from something it feared, while also reminding myself that it wasn’t telling the whole truth.
I’ve found that when people begin to understand what their critic is afraid of, the conversation changes. The critic doesn’t necessarily disappear, but it often loses some of its intensity.
Rather than asking whether the critic is right or wrong, it can be helpful to ask:
What is this voice trying to protect me from?
What is it afraid would happen if it stopped doing its job?
What does it seem to care about?
Understanding doesn’t make the critic correct. But it often creates the space needed for something to change.
This is one of the reasons I appreciate the IFS perspective. The goal isn’t to erase the inner critic but to help it move out of an extreme role.
The voice that once said, “You’re failing,” may begin to sound more like, “Something isn’t working here. Let’s take a closer look.”
The issue isn’t that the concern disappears. It’s that the criticism no longer has to be so harsh.
Learning to Relate to the Critic Differently
Most of us have parts of ourselves we’d rather not have. The inner critic is often one of them.
But healing doesn’t always come from pushing difficult parts away. Sometimes it begins by understanding them. Not because every critical thought is true, but because understanding often reveals what is happening beneath the surface.
For those of us who approach these questions through the lens of faith, I think there is another important layer to consider. While the inner critic may have something to teach us, it should never be the source of our identity.
One of the things I find most encouraging about the gospel is that God doesn’t ask us to pretend our shortcomings don’t exist. He invites us to bring them into the light. He tells the truth about our sin without reducing us to it.
Romans 8:1 says, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
That doesn’t mean our mistakes don’t matter or that growth is unnecessary. It means condemnation is not God’s primary way of relating to us.
We can learn from our mistakes without making them the measure of our worth.
The critic says, “You are your failures.”
But the gospel tells a different story.
You can face the truth about yourself without being condemned by it.
By Cindy Park, LPC
Cindy is passionate about empowering adults on their journey towards mental and emotional well-being. She creates a safe, supportive environment where individuals can explore their thoughts and emotions more deeply to gain greater self-awareness, experience personal healing and develop resilience. She firmly believes that everyone has the potential to rewrite their story and experience a life filled with renewed purpose and joy. Alongside her husband, Peter, and their two daughters, the family shares a passion for two things that bring people together: good food and travel. In her free time, she expresses her creativity through the art of hand-lettering and crafting handmade cards. She starts every morning with a cup of coffee and at some point during the day she has watched TikTok videos and snuggled with her dog, Pixie.
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