Writing Through Cancer

I don’t know about you, but I have a fierce internal critic who can create havoc when I’m writing or preparing for a presentation or workshop.  I’ve gotten better at silencing that negative voice over the years, but in the post-holiday letdown, my critic has taken advantage of my fatigue, and her critical, self-deprecating voice has  snuck back into the open…like right now, as I write this prompt, or when I look in the mirror and evidence of aging is much too visible.  My critic sounds a lot like my dissertation supervisor or the fourth grade teacher who was famous for lobbing an eraser at a mischievous classmate.  She’s the frown on my mother’s face when, as a child, I came home with a report card without the requisite number of “A’s.”

The suspense and anxiety about not being “good” enough accompanied me home at regular intervals throughout the school year as I carried a sealed brown envelope home from school containing my report card.  Invariably, wanting to prepare myself for my parents’ reaction, I’d sneak a peek before handing it over.  My grades were lined up in neat columns, but the appearance of a “B” among the “A’s” was enough to ignite foreboding, and worse, a less than glowing comment scrawled across the bottom, for example, “Sharon is reluctant to speak up in class discussions,” made me feel certain I’d disappointed everyone.  Now, decades later, I still feel the impact of constantly striving for an “A” or a gold star pasted at the top of my paper.

The fact is I am always grading myself, whether I’m writing, teaching, housecleaning, parenting or simply trying to keep the weeds in the garden under control. I have a loud and vociferous internal critic.  She is no wimp, no kindly spectacled replica of my beloved first grade teacher.  My critic cracks the whip and is harsh in her assessment of my performance.

We all grade ourselves I suppose, whether we’re writing, parenting, or more likely, juggling the many balls of daily life in the air, and those noisy, old internalized voices begin to chide us, “you could do better than that, you know.”   When we feel we’ve somehow disappointed others, fallen short of some unspoken level of attainment, or let ourselves down,  those voices are especially loud—a veritable Greek chorus.  We pepper our sentences with “I should… but…,” and feel guilty and miserable for what we didn’t get done or the feeling we’re not living up to others’ (and our own) expectations of us.

How do we silence our critics, especially the ones who live in our heads?  How do we practice a little self-forgiveness and allow ourselves the freedom to be messy, woefully imperfect, or terribly human?  A little humor can help.  In her poem, “Marks,” Linda Pastan pokes fun at the frustration of being graded–whether by ourselves or others:

My husband gives me an A
for last night’s supper,
an incomplete for my ironing,
a B plus in bed.
My son says I am average,
an average mother, but if
I put my mind to it
I could improve.
My daughter believes
in Pass/Fail and tells me
I pass.  Wait ’til they learn
I’m dropping out.

(From: Five Stages of Grief)

In a poem called, “Exorcism of Nice,” Roseann Lloyd takes aim at some of her internalized voices:

…Talk polite
Appropriate
Real nice

…Hold still
Hold it back
Hold it in

…Close-mouthed
Muzzled
Gagged
Garbled
Jammed up
All wrapped up
Tied up

…Deaf and Dumb
Stupefied
Shut-down
Stunned

Oh, Wicked Mother of the Kingdom of Silence
I have obeyed you
long enough

(From Tap Dancing for Big Mom)

This week, try to poke a little fun at your own internal critic.  When have you given yourself a failing grade or felt like you’re being graded by others?  Was there a time you received a  report card in childhood that you didn’t want to take home to your parents?  How did you feel?  What happened?  Does your self-critic sometimes keep you from doing or saying what you truly want?  Try, as Pastan and Lloyd have done, silencing those tiresome internal voices with a little humor.