The Invisible Trauma of Criticism

No one is harder on us, than ourselves. 

We have a strong, innate propensity to criticize ourselves and others. But we don’t start out this way. We are conditioned by our environments and our egos to find “otherness” in our shared humanity at the expense of our ability to care for one another, with grace, acceptance, and without judgment.

A propensity to criticize is twofold; it both gives us a false sense of superiority in one aspect and makes us feel that we not only have a right to say something critical, but that it is right.

Criticism can feel benign and unharmful, especially when its frequency is often and second nature to the person being critical. Most people are walking mindlessly through life, rarely stopping to observe micro-damage and micro-aggressions, created by critical thoughts. But the emotional and psychological effects are lasting and often, invisible.

So, what exactly happens when our internal criticism finds a voice outside of us, on the hearts and minds of the people we are left to care for?

Damage happens. Invisible wounds. Shadow traumas occur. Degradation of the self begins.

I’d like us to work in reverse to unpack this very important and uncomfortable topic, that plagues most of our global society.  

Let’s say you were someone who grew up in a critical ecosystem or family system, here are some guideposts that are indicators of how you might feel as an adult, as a result:

You struggle with trusting yourself.

You doubt your decisions (or you are indecisive).

You self-abandon.

You choose partners and friends who mirror the actions and words of your critical caretakers, who continue to reinforce with criticism.

You hate yourself at times.

You lack adequate self-esteem.

You lack boundaries.

Negative feedback sends you spiraling.

You do not speak up for yourself.

You don’t try to achieve anything for fear of failure.

You think everyone is better than you.

You think you are not good enough.

You struggle with anxiety.

You seek external validation to confirm your worth, or value.

You settle for just enough, and never ask for anything more because you do not feel worthy.

Take a moment to sit with these examples and feel deep within your being if you find resonance with any of the statements above.

Once you have checked in with yourself, I’d like you to use that as your baseline as we weave a thread back to the genesis of where you, separated from yourself—under the weight of criticism. So that we can shine a light on it, face it, heal it, and go back into the world from a place of compassion and curiosity. Not criticism.

Another important point I want to bring into your consciousness when looking back at the inception of where critical natured communication began for you—for most of us, that is in our home lives with our parents.

This is significant because as adults we will always be in a parent-child dynamic, no matter our age. It is a dynamic deeply ingrained in our psyche and subconscious that keeps us seeking the approval of the people who raised us. By default, this creates a unique vulnerability on the child (again, no matter their age) and an uneven power imbalance between child and parent, will exist indefinitely.

It is easy to forget that your child is still a child, when you see them as an adult. However, underneath their adulthood is this power imbalance and we must stay conscious to its invisible existence as we navigate our parent-child | adult/child relationships.

The last layer here to remember is that as human beings, but especially children we learn through indirect messaging. That’s why children are often referred to as “little sponges.” They don’t have situational awareness, context, language, or range of emotions to categorize and synthesize their environment, so they watch and emulate. They absorb everything and this absorption happens for years, in the most formidable years of a child’s life.

I remember the first criticism I heard as a young child; it was about the way in which I ate. “You eat like a football player.” The implication being, that I ate a lot and quickly.

I was 5 years old.

As an adult, I can see my 5-year-old me had been starved in foster care. Meals were not always guaranteed, or filling—leaving me hungry and in need of nourishment. I ate like child who didn’t know if their next meal would be coming and because there were other kids who might take my food.

As an adult, I understand this situationally. However, as child me, the criticism stung. It stuck. It hurt and it stayed with me.

Throughout my youth I received constant messaging about my weight, my appearance, my femininity (or lack {thereof}), my posture, my holiness (or {lack thereof})…there was always something to criticize.

I also absorbed the self-criticism of my ecosystem as a form of emulation, meaning I would hear the people around me speak negatively about themselves and I took on that negativity as myself.  

I began to criticize myself, incessantly. I thought this was what we were supposed to do. I thought this is who I am. Someone who wasn’t skinny enough, light enough, smart enough, rich enough. I picked up all the stories I absorbed from my ecosystem, then I doubled down by creating new narratives around what a shitty person I was.   

In a less conscious and less compassionate time of my adult life, I let my criticism reach the people I loved most. Feeling compelled to tell people (through my perceived superiority, ideas, arrogance, and ego) about their shortcomings, with sharp judgement and exacting language. Sometimes even covering up my critiques in sickly sweet sarcasm, to conceal the sting. O

Always, I would feel a sting too. Like that parable of the scorpion who keeps stinging itself. In hurting others, I hurt myself.  

It would take me years to realize the extent of invisible scars that were created from been criticized, but more importantly how truly damaging being taught to criticize others had stripped me of my true nature.

When I decided that I had to heal my critical parts, it started by evaluating each and every harsh, critical word and narrative I identified with in my past and present. In my book “The Alchemy of Kindness” I discuss this act of giving back to your parents, friends, and acquaintances their criticisms of you and diligently working at undoing the self-criticism you have created.

We can assign responsibility without blame. We can honestly express as an adult the hurt we felt being criticized as a child and how it made us believe something different about ourselves. It is sacred work to honor your pain, to give it a voice, and to release it.

The reason why criticism (which is judgement expressed in word and form) is so detrimental is because we don’t know anything is wrong with us, until someone says so. We all come to this Earth as beautiful, whole, souls. Perfectly, imperfect. Flawed, and unbelievably loveable.

Each time a criticism lands on our hearts and minds, it steals a piece of our humanity, joy, and self-confidence. Tiny invisible scars are formed, and darkness finds a way into us.

Words like Maya Angelou says, stick to the walls, and on floors. Words have power, they are the first weapon drawn in a conflict.

The irony of people who are hyper critical, is that their criticisms are just projections of what they feel on the inside, about themselves. They speak to the world, the way they speak to themselves. This is a truth that cannot be concealed. We all do it.

If I could rid the world of two things, it would be criticism and judgment.

Why? 

Because these two sides of the same coin act as dark tinted glasses on our vision. They don’t speak the truth of who we are or allow us to see the clarity of our own beauty and that of others. Judgement and criticism make it impossible to just let people be.

To accept this flawed world, and ourselves fully and without condition or commentary.

If you’re still here with me, and you recognize that you are struggling with these two titans, next time you find yourself thinking a harsh critical thought about yourself, or someone else.

First begin by questioning the validity of thought. “Is this true?” “Is this kind?” If the answer is “No” to either of those, drop the thought and bring in self-compassion and choose a different thought about yourself or the other person. Or if you’re feeling brave, don’t think anything at all. Don’t judge. Don’t narrate.

A wise person once told me that “We must allow people the dignity of their own process.”

Criticism does not come from a good place, it comes from a need to control, to dominate, to cast judgment, to exert superiority on another because your ego thinks “my way is better.”

After you ask yourself those two questions above and drop your thoughts, give the people in your life the dignity of their own process to navigate their humanity in their own time and way.

Trust that the people around you will be okay, without a critical redirection, suggestion, or sarcastic digs.

And lastly, give yourself a break. Breaking the cycle of critical natured behavior and thoughts takes years. It takes tenacity and courage to want to change this about ourselves.  It take setting clear boundaries for the people in your life, who operate from a place of negativity, and criticalness. It takes loving ourselves, despite all the ways we are sure we are not worthy of our own love.

Our world thrives on breaking people down, calling out “otherness,” and choosing negativity over neutrality and positivity.

Choose kindness, for yourself and for the world.