My schedule has been jam-packed recently: my kids are playing multiple sports in addition to their other after-school activities, and all of it spills into our weekends. We go from one game or birthday party to another, squeezing in meals, caring for our dog, and then tending to a never-ending to-do list. This week, their school has early dismissals all week, and my partner has been out of town. Yesterday, after hosting six kids at my house, whom I fed and cared for (tolerated?) for a few hours until shuttling them to their after-school theater class together, I crashed. And I crashed hard. I turned on the TV, grabbed some snacks, and vegged for hours. It was exactly what I needed.
In years past, I really struggled to let myself rest. Both when I thought I had “earned” it and when I needed to rest for no apparent reason.
As the child of immigrants who fled Iran and rebuilt their lives here in Los Angeles without the benefits of speaking the language or having any real support, I grew up watching my parents work tirelessly. My father, an architect in his home country, was up before dawn every day to run a dry-cleaning business, often returning home after 9 pm. My mother had to start over in the banking world, working long hours late into the evening. Leisure and rest weren’t part of their vocabulary. I spent many evenings and weekends tagging along to their respective workplaces, absorbing the singular lesson: work comes first, always. My parents didn’t just model an intense work ethic; they reinforced it with words. They were quick to call out if we were being “lazy” or if they didn’t think we were trying hard enough, and their voices became the voice in my head, whispering (or shouting) when I wanted to slow down.
So, learning to rest didn’t come naturally to me. As an adolescent, I rebelled against the expectations that I would study hard and focus on my schoolwork. But as a young adult, I overcorrected, and I buckled down. I continued that trend for years. There was no room for rest, and when I wanted to take a break or didn’t want to push myself, my inner critic would show up loud and harsh. I had already experienced failure, like when I didn’t get into the college of my choice (or any of the colleges I had applied to) on my first attempt, and I never let myself forget it. In my family, success equaled worth. Relaxation? Play? Taking it easy? I wasn’t going to let myself do that.
It took me years to really get to know my inner voice and then to learn to challenge it. To understand that I could like myself even if I wasn’t succeeding or producing. That I deserve compassion, no matter what. Offering myself care, rest, and softness wasn’t a skill I inherited, but it was one I learned.
What Is Self-Criticism?
Self-criticism is a pattern of negative self-thoughts and distorted beliefs of oneself. People struggling with self-criticism often judge themselves harshly, focusing heavily on their mistakes and flaws. Those who are self-critical tend to tie their worth to impossibly high standards, and self-criticism convinces us that we’re never quite enough.
The inner self-critical voice is quick to highlight errors. It’s the voice that says, I was so stupid for missing that turn, or I’ll never be good enough to get that promotion. Instead of offering constructive feedback, it attacks. And it’s exhausting.
Self-criticism doesn’t act alone—it’s often tangled up with perfectionism, where anything less than perfect feels like failure, and overthinking, where your mind spirals endlessly over decisions and outcomes: what could I have done better or differently? Together, they can weave a tangled and insidious web of self-doubt and anxiety.
Where Does Self-Criticism Come From?
Self-criticism is a familiar experience for many of us—a relentless inner voice highlighting our flaws, mistakes, and shortcomings. But why is it so hard to stop being overly critical of ourselves? The answer seems to lie in a complex interplay of psychological mechanisms, societal influences, and evolutionary instincts that shape our thoughts and behaviors.
The impulse to be self-critical may start to develop in childhood, a time when our brains are forming neural pathways and we’re learning how to relate to the world. Research shows that we learn to value ourselves by observing society’s standards, what parents model, and feedback from our peers. If we receive hypercritical feedback from influential figures—like parents or teachers—or witness role models being overly critical of themselves or others, we may internalize these patterns. At these impressionable ages, this critical voice can become a part of our psyche and inner monologue, so ingrained that it can feel like a natural thought cycle. Even when external criticism fades, this internal voice becomes self-sustaining.
Take body image as an example we can all relate to: from a young age, we’re bombarded with messages about how we should look. In the Southeast, there’s pressure to have lighter skin; in the West, tanning products promise a sun-kissed glow. These conflicting beauty standards—pushing us to alter our appearance in opposing ways—reveal their unreasonableness and unattainability. Yet, they fuel self-criticism, making us feel inadequate for not fitting an oppressive, ever-shifting ideal. Appearance-based discrimination adds another layer, contributing to self-criticism as we try to avoid exclusion or rejection based on how we look. The comparison starts early, and we begin wanting to look different because of the beauty standards communicated to us—standards reinforced by countless products promising to transform us completely.
Culturally, especially in the United States, we are taught to believe that survival and success hinge entirely on individual willpower and effort. This mindset can foster persistent self-monitoring as we tend to scrutinize ourselves for perceived shortcomings to try to meet ever-rising standards.
This societal pressure teaches us that love, warmth, and support are conditional, tied to meeting certain objectives or standards—a concept known as conditional positive regard. When we learn that love is something to be earned rather than a basic human need, we become adept at blaming ourselves when we fail. We start to believe that our actions—or something inherently “wrong” about us—make us undeserving, and this belief can linger for years, deepening our self-critical tendencies.
Self-criticism can also act as a safety mechanism to protect ourselves from being excluded or to ensure we’re accepted. It’s a form of constant monitoring for some perceived fault, ingrained in fear of judgment or rejection. Research suggests that self-criticism is a coping skill in survival mode, shielding us from feelings of shame or punishment. By tearing ourselves down first, we build armor against the criticism of others. If I already think negatively about myself, no one else can surprise me with a hurtful comment or use it against me. This protective coping mechanism can even serve as motivation to perform better, though it often leads to overthinking and can take a toll on self-esteem.
From an evolutionary perspective, negative self-talk has a purpose. It’s tied to our default mode network, which helps us survive by aligning our interests with group norms and standards. Our brains are wired to seek belonging, given that for a long time, being part of a group meant survival. By monitoring our behavior, we correct ourselves before stepping too far out of line, avoiding ostracization from the group. While this ancient instinct made sense when we were at risk of being eaten by predators, it may do us more harm than good now.
The power of social comparison amplifies our self-criticism. We use others to fuel our insecurities, telling ourselves we’re failures or lesser because we don’t match someone else’s perceived success or social acceptance. This habit starts young and grows stronger as we navigate life, constantly measuring ourselves against an idealized “norm.” Yet, it’s vital to remember that your value and someone else’s are not mutually exclusive. No one is judging you as harshly as your inner critic—no one except that voice inside your head.
How Does Being Self-Critical Affect Us? What is the Impact of Self-Criticism on Our Psychological Well-Being?
Self-criticism is more than an occasional harsh thought—it’s a habitual pattern that takes a negative toll on our psychological and physiological well-being. Unlike self-reflection, research reveals that self-criticism can have profound and destructive effects on mental and physical health and on our interpersonal relationships.
Self-criticism is often at the core of many mental health struggles. Research shows that people who struggle with self-criticism are vulnerable to developing depression, anxiety, substance abuse issues, eating disorders, and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Being self-critical often leads to low self-esteem. When someone is highly self-critical, they tend to internalize mistakes or setbacks as reflections of their worth, creating a spiral of negative self-evaluation. Over time, this erodes self-esteem and resilience, making it more challenging to manage stress and regulate emotions.
Part of what makes self-criticism so difficult to break free from is how it’s reinforced by distorted thinking patterns, known as cognitive distortions. Cognitive distortions twist how we interpret our experiences, making self-criticism feel more justified and perceived mistakes harder to reframe.
Common cognitive distortions:
-All-or-nothing thinking: “I’m either perfect or a total failure.”
-Overgeneralization: “I always mess up.”
-“Should” statements: “I should’ve done better.”
These warped thoughts can breed frustration, guilt, and despair. Imagine fixating on a minor mistake—like a typo in a work email—and spiraling into panic: “My boss will think I’m incompetent.” These thoughts are nearly automatic and feel so true, even when they’re irrational, and flood the mind uninvited. Over time, this doesn’t just trigger distress—it sustains it, locking self-critical people into a vicious cycle where negative self-judgment fuels emotional turmoil, which then deepens the criticism. Research also shows that because self-critical people may experience more intense feelings of shame and emotional overwhelm, it can increase the risk of suicidal thoughts and behaviors, highlighting just how severe self-criticism’s mental health impact can be.
The toll of self-criticism extends beyond the mind, as the body and mind are interconnected. Studies indicate that negative self-talk is linked to chronic stress, which can lead to hypertension, heart disease, and weakened immune function. Self-criticism can also disrupt relationships and make it harder to experience positive moments or seek support, which are necessary for emotional well-being. Of course it would be harder to take care of yourself when there’s a voice in your head judging everything you do. It’s exhausting.
Self-criticism also alters how we connect with others. At its core, it distorts self-perception, making people feel weaker or more flawed than they truly are. In relationships, this skewed lens can create power imbalances—self-critical people might put their partner on a pedestal or shoulder too much blame for problems. Instead of seeing that both people contribute to a relationship’s challenges, they fixate on their perceived failings, thinking, “It’s all my fault.” This one-sided view creates unfulfilling dynamics within oneself and with others.
The opposite can also be true—self-critical people may appear colder, less affectionate, or even hostile, not because they don’t care but because their inner turmoil can spill over into their interactions. In response, their partners might withdraw emotionally, which deepens feelings of worthlessness and isolation. This behavior strains the relationship, intensifying self-doubt and creating a sense of disconnection.
How Can We Manage Self-Criticism and Be Less Critical of Ourselves?
It’s clear that self-criticism takes a toll on us and that it’s both relentless and exhausting. The good news is that there are ways to break the cycle slowly, quiet the inner critic, and learn to be more kind to ourselves. Like most things we have to unlearn, it won’t happen overnight. But with intention, there are ways to build habits that shift how we relate to ourselves. Here are some suggestions on where to start.
Get Curious About Where Your Self-Critical Voice Comes From:
More often than not, self-criticism is something we develop and learn from our environments. Understanding this connection can help take away some of the critic’s power.
It’s important to reflect on where your self-critical thoughts may have started. Journaling can be helpful for this. You can start by writing down what the inner critic says: “I’m not good enough to apply to this program” or “I did x,y,z, which makes me unlovable.” Ask yourself where those messages came from or when you first found yourself having similar thoughts. Do you have any memories that come up during your reflection? Are there specific people who said those things or something similar to you? Recognizing that self-criticism is learned can help you change your relationship with it, loosening its grip.
Practice Mindfulness:
The inner critic thrives on rumination/overthinking—rehashing past mistakes or predicting future failure. Mindfulness helps disrupt that cycle by bringing you back to the present moment. When you practice mindfulness, you can focus on your breath, the feel of your feet on the ground, or the sounds around you. Practicing mindfulness gives you a little space from your thoughts, allowing you to observe them without getting swept away.
Mindfulness isn’t about stopping thoughts or clearing your mind—it’s about noticing what comes up without judgment. Research shows that mindfulness can reduce self-judgment by helping us become more aware of our inner dialogue without attaching to it.
Practice Self-Compassion:
We’re often much harder on ourselves than we are on others. If a friend came to you after a bad day, would you tell them they’re a failure? Probably not. Yet we say these kinds of things to ourselves all the time. Self-compassion is about extending the same kindness to yourself that you would offer to a friend.
One way to practice this is through loving-kindness meditation. Sit quietly and repeat phrases like, “May I be happy,” “May I be healthy,” and “May I feel safe.” At first, it might feel strange or even uncomfortable. But over time, these words of kindness can soften the inner critic’s grip. And even outside of meditation, you can apply this in daily life. If you catch yourself thinking, “I’m such an idiot,” try to reframe it: “I made a mistake, but that doesn’t make me a failure.” You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of kindness.
Talk to Yourself Like You Would a Friend:
Imagine a friend telling you they bombed a presentation at work. You probably wouldn’t say, “Wow, you’re terrible at your job.” You’d more likely reassure them: “That sounds tough, but you’ll figure it out.” So why not extend that same compassion to yourself?
When the inner critic shows up, try asking, Would I say this to a friend? If not, reframe it. Instead of “I’m so bad at this,” try “I’m still learning, and that’s okay.” A helpful trick is to imagine talking to your younger self—the part of you that’s still learning and growing. You wouldn’t shame a child for struggling, so try to meet yourself with that same patience and care.
Let Others Support You:
Self-criticism can feel isolating, but you don’t have to manage it alone. Talking to trusted friends or family members about what you’re struggling with can help take away some of the critic’s power. Sometimes, hearing someone say, “You’re being too hard on yourself” is enough to help you see things differently.
It’s also worth considering therapy if self-criticism feels overwhelming. A therapist can help you identify patterns of distorted thinking—like catastrophizing or perfectionism—and help you reframe those thoughts. Having someone in your corner who can challenge the inner critic and offer perspective can make a big difference.
The inner critic isn’t easy to silence, but it is possible to turn down the volume. It starts with awareness, with recognizing that this voice isn’t the truth—it’s just a habit. And like any habit, you can unlearn it. You don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to prove your worth. You are already enough. If you need help better understanding and quieting your inner critic, we would be glad to help you develop self-compassion practices and learn to reframe your inner dialogue. You don’t have to navigate this alone. Please reach out to us and take the first step toward a kinder, more compassionate relationship with yourself.