Harsh self-criticism usually involves our need for control: the belief that failure can be avoided if we fight it hard and that our success depends on us. We do not want to face the painful reality that neither external circumstances nor even our internal responses to them are fully under our control. Furthermore, anger against ourselves suggests that we are strong. We insist, tooth and nail, on giving our failures a logical explanation, preferably one that makes us responsible for them. Implicit in this interpretation is the hope that if we try harder next time, we have a chance to succeed.

To maintain a positive image of the world, of fate, of the universe or of God, we blame ourselves for our failures. Our sense of security is largely based on our positive image of the former, so we do our best to keep this image intact. Even if the cost is anger at ourselves. We act like the little child who, in his total dependence on his parents, cannot see their faults and failings, but blames himself for everything, because he needs to see his parents as caring and loving. Otherwise, he would feel an unbearable sense of insecurity and anxiety.

As a young child, it is only natural that we have no other way to reduce the anxiety caused by the unpredictability of the world and the inadequacies of our caregivers than to blame ourselves for every painful experience. It's also natural that as adults, these reactions are instinctive. So often we can blame ourselves loudly for our need for control, as if it were some superstitious impurity that we should be existentially ashamed of! Yet this need is also a function of our neurons, we are not to blame! Instead of condemning ourselves, we can look for ways to be gentle and kind to ourselves, who suffer because we see the myth of our own omnipotence disintegrating. We can look for ways to feel compassion for ourselves in the knowledge that we are not alone in this. All the people before and after us, and all our contemporaries, share this painful experience.

To illustrate the development of a self-critical voice in us, we could use an image of a small child locked in a small room with a sleeping lion. The lion can wake up at any time, the little child can do nothing to prevent it. The child walks around the lion, terrified, as quietly as he can, and if he makes a noise, he will strike him on the head in terror and say to himself: 'you idiot, don't make any noise or the lion will eat you'.

It is similar to the phenomenon of criticising ourselves in front of others so that they do not criticise us. It's like saying, "I'll tell you how much I'm wrong so that you don't feel the need to tell me, but rather to reassure me that I'm not so bad after all." Momentarily, we can experience relief, but the cost of that relief is too great. We keep our red systems working and our relationships can be strained if we constantly make self-deprecating statements.

Paradoxical though it may seem, self-criticism is also linked to our sense of superiority. Our self-image is complex and we can identify with any part of it. When we criticise ourselves, we are both the critic and the criticised. The part of us that criticises our faults experiences superiority. It is faithful to the values that the criticised part of us has failed to live up to. When we identify with the self-critical part of us, it alleviates the disappointment of not having been true to our values. When we criticize ourselves, we try to salvage our self-esteem by thinking that the critical part of us is good and the rest is bad.
The fundamental fallacy of this web of paradoxes is that we try to squeeze ourselves into categories of good or bad. This is the trap of self-esteem. In contrast, self-acceptance is a way of relating to the mystery of who we are. Rather than constantly trying to cosmeticize our self-image, self-compassion honors the fact that every human being has both strengths and weaknesses. Rather than getting lost in thoughts of whether we are good or bad, we can become aware of the experience of the present moment and realise that everything is in flux: our successes and failures come and go, they do not determine our worth.

When I hear the voice of self-criticism, can I listen to whom or what am I trying to protect by blaming myself, by condemning myself?