Understanding My Irrational Self-Critic

I watch myself like a security camera, zooming in on every flaw, replaying every mistake, as if self-surveillance could make me better

While preparing for this blog, we were tasked with an exercise: to list all the questions we often ponder upon and choose the one that resonates most deeply with us to write about.

During this exercise, I noticed something intriguing—most of my questions revolved around myself. At first, this seemed natural, even expected. But it also made me pause and ask myself:

How much time and energy do I spend thinking about myself? And is it really worth it?

It made me think about my day-to-day thoughts and how much they revolve around everything I do, almost like I am looking at myself through a magnifying glass.

At first, I told myself that this was just self-awareness— I analyze my actions so I could improve on them, right? But the more I paid attention, the more I realized that this wasn’t just awareness; it was relentless scrutiny. Instead of asking How can I do better?, my thoughts sounded more like Why do I always mess this up?

Once I noticed this voice, I couldn’t ignore it. It was everywhere—hovering over me when I was working, whispering doubts when I spoke in meetings, replaying my mistakes long after they had passed. It wasn’t giving me useful feedback; it was just making me feel small.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much my internal dialogue is dominated by an irrational self-critic. Irrational because most of these thoughts weren’t rational thoughts of what the problem is and how I can improve on it, but rather emotional thoughts which would leave me with a sense of defeat for no particular reason.

I could relate this to the character Anton Ego in Ratatouille. If you’ve seen the movie, you know that Ego, the food critic, is ruthless. He’s so focused on finding flaws that he misses the joy of the experience altogether. In the same way, I was so caught up in my own mistakes and shortcomings that I couldn’t see the bigger picture. I was stuck in a cycle of criticism, unable to step back and rationally understand where my flaws lie and how to overcome them.

As soon as this thought caught my mind I started getting proof of it. The most recent one was when I was working on a project in my apprenticeship and I kept getting stuck on one problem and made the same mistake again and again. And obviously the inner critic pounced on this opportunity to remind me constantly of my incapability to overcome this problem. I was so engrossed in this “weakness” of mine that it affected my work even more. I started avoiding the work altogether–not because I was scared of what my boss would say, but in fear of those thoughts of incapability creeping in again. Frustrated, I closed my laptop and stared at the ceiling.

That’s when it hit me–I was criticising myself so much that I never even thought about how I can overcome it. This was not self-awareness, it was self-sabotage. It took me just a few moments of being honest with myself to realise that this is fixable–and the reason I am here this apprenticeship is so that I can learn how to do better and overcome my problems instead of letting it swallow my self-esteem.

Coming back to Ratatouille, in that one scene, when Ego tastes the food and it takes him back to his childhood–something that transported him beyond his role as a critic, back to a moment of pure, simple joy. My realization wasn’t a bite of ratatouille, but it was just as humbling: my life isn’t just about me. It’s a blend of experiences, connections, and opportunities—none of which can flourish if I’m stuck scrutinizing myself under a magnifying glass.

When I shifted my focus outward, I started to see things differently. I realized that my work wasn’t just a reflection of my capabilities—it was part of a larger process of learning and contributing. My mistakes weren’t just personal failures; they were lessons that connected me to the people and experiences around me.

The more I practiced taking a moment and looking outward, the quieter my inner critic became. It was as if, by broadening my perspective, I finally gave myself the space to breathe and grow.

As I sit with this thought now, I wonder: what might happen if we all paused to shift our gaze outward? Not for answers, but for the questions that emerge when we stop looking so closely at ourselves. Perhaps that’s where the real discoveries lie.

– Shardul