This one was hard to write. This voice, The Critic, is the one who really puts me up against the ropes. It’s taken years to be able to listen to her for long enough that I could write down what she had to say. The Critic thinks she is my fiercest protector, and this is how she operates. Her version of protection locks down my heart, fills me with urgency, and causes anxiety to spike. Her voice feels hot and spiky in my chest, my throat. The work of helping her to relax and trust me has been some of my hardest and longest. Sharing this with you feels like sharing unfinished business, because it will never truly be finished with her. We are learning.
The Critic
Listen. I’ll talk to you, but I’m not a damn poem.
I am here because I have seen you flash hot and run cold. I’ve seen everything you have ever discovered and loved and then forgotten. I’ve watched you evangelize everything from Jesus to vitamin drinks, and I’m here to make sure you don’t make a fool out of us. If you’re going to be this person who falls in love with big ideas so readily, who chases outlandish dreams, who books one way flights to parts unknown like some sort of socialite with a bottomless trust fund, someone has to be here to keep the rest of this shit from spinning out.
People depend on you, they take you at your word, they believe you. I take that seriously. I’m the one who makes sure you don’t let anyone down. I know what you’re capable of, and you and I both know you’re not often doing all you could be doing. It won’t be news to you that you’re fully equipped to do more, give more, show up more, produce more, generate more, be a better friend, be more reliable. You almost never do enough.
What really worries me, D, is that if you phone it in your clients will see through you and they’ll fire you and we’ll end up broke and stressed and dependent on everyone else to get by. Then you’ll be a burden to your friends and family, you’ll be revealed as someone who was making it up all along, and people will know you for your losses, your failures. No way. Not on my watch.
I’m just trying to keep all this shit together so you don’t have to deal with that kind of fallout. I know you’re doing all this business with feeling your feelings and that’s cute as long as you can keep it contained, you know? You’ve got a therapist, a good group of friends, a partner who can hear all of this. Just don’t wallow. We’ve got a lot to do - I’ve got a lot to do - and talking to your inner four year old is not something on which I’m particularly interested in spending what little pockets of time I have at my disposal.
When you walk into a room of artists and thinkers and you’re respected by them, that will be because I kept you on course when the rest of these idiots tried to get you to look at the clouds for hours at a time.
Come on. We’ve already wasted enough time on this. We’ve got work to do.