Between you and me, my inner critic can be a real bitch.
In my younger years, it was worse. Much worse.
Nothing was ever good enough, and it was always catastrophizing one thing or another, causing paralyzing anxiety that kept me up at night.
My inner critic, whom I’ve named Art, would obsess about conversations I had earlier in the day (or throughout the week). You shouldn’t have said that! You should have said this! I couldn’t win.
If I was feeling cute and wore a shirt that was a little tighter than usual, Art would make sure I knew everyone in the room was whispering about how big guys like me shouldn’t wear tight clothes.
Having a bitchy inner critic doesn’t serve you (or me). The good news is, you can tame your inner critic.
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