I want to share something I’ve only discovered recently. From the outset, I think it’s fair to say it’s not radical, and I won’t be offended if you don’t fancy being schooled at something you’re not only aware of, but bosching like the brand new kitchen appliance you are. It’s only dawned on me in one of those light bulb moments. Note: I was going to insert another Bosch reference here, but a google search has informed me there are infact things that Bosch does not produce. And it includes light bulbs. Who knew.

So here it is (the recently discovered thing I mean, not a list of things Bosch do not produce. Sorry if anyone was expecting the latter and is now flicking to a different blog in search of product truth).

We need to stop beating ourselves up.

By beating ourselves up, I’m referring to the self -loathing internal dialogue our mind plays out during the day. And night – although I have no idea where we are on the neuroscience of dreaming, so not elaboration there either. Man I am disappointing people today.

Our mind is absolutely amazing isn’t it? The things we can learn and process, are far, far beyond the capabilities of our primitive ancestors. But the trouble is, it’s not all fabulous. If we think a lion is coming to eat us, we would most likely do some adrenaline-related activity like running. For our ape ancestors, that’s probably where that fun would end. But as humans we may also ruminate over why we chose that picnic spot in the first place, and we may, albeit hopefully rarely, develop an anxiety about picnicking across the board because we are relating the scone-laden occasion to being attacked and potentially brutally killed.

My point is, we are incredibly complex. Far more complex than we understand. Writing that just put me in a weird understand to understand thought loop, which a bit like the vastness of the universe makes me go slightly crazy until I can break the thought cycle with chocolate. Or ‘tomatoes’ as my New Year’s resolution would have it. The way I see it, all of our complexity has caused us a shed load of mind problems. I’m not sure if you can get a clinically depressed lion, but I’m guessing if you can the incidence is probably lower than in the human race (and in areas where prey is happily picnicking ). I’m happy to be challenged on that though.

I don’t think we deal very well with our complexity. Day to day, we process stacks upon stacks of information and expect we will churn out ok– because we think and assume that’s what everyone does. How often do we stop to actually think about how some event has made us feel? How often do we stop to check in on ourselves period? How often do you give yourself a break?

I think one of the problems with where I’m heading with this is too many of us look at self-care as either a total indulgence, or only what other people need. Holistic rubbish like meditation and yoga is what other people need because they can’t hack going for a run. I can’t possibly need to do stuff like feel because that is for people who are failing at life. If I indulge in mindfulness for myself, who will do the dishes? And what if someone finds out that I’m so weak I need something life self-care in my life?

On the subject of indulgence, indulge me. Re-read that last paragraph. I know I’m being factitious, and I have no scientific evidence to back me up, but I would bet money on that thinking sloshing around in the mind of most people – some more conscious or it than others perhaps. I know that that is how I used to think, and to some extent still do think. My one hope for my own growth isn’t how many more letters I can get after my name, not how many tennis matches I can win, or even how many vaccinations I can dish out (although I hope for the good of humanity that number is significant). My one hope is that I can embrace self-care and see it for what it is: a critical part of a less stressful, happier life.

Back to the topic of this – self-criticism. One of the big misnomers about self-care is that it involves having a bath once in a while, or dishing out the pennies on a massage. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a massage, and part of my self-care will continue to have massages forever more, but the truth is self-care is much more than a massage and is really bloody hard work. That mindfulness being banded around like it’s the new fad? Well, firstly it’s not new, turns out it’s been around for centuries, and, second, it’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I feel like the reason why it’s so hard is that we aren’t trained to do it. Everyone’s keen to teach us about algebra and plate tectonics (and anyone who knows me knows that I love both of these), but no one is keen about teaching us how to be present, to train our mind from constant wandering and planning, how to recognise our own feelings. And how to recognise self-criticism and prevent it from invading our everyday life.

So, here’s where I’m at. I’m making progress with the mindfulness. But I’ve hit a road block with the self-criticism. I’ve been fannying about to 2 weeks avoiding admitting to myself my own self-criticism, because doing it feels like a huge invasion of me, my life, how I’ve been taught, and what I think is true. Writing it down is a big step for me, so I thought I’d make it a Neil Armstrong giant leap and tell all of you aswell.

Here is an insight into what I’ve criticised myself about today:

I woke up at 7.30, thought to myself that the kids should be awake at 07.00 because that’s their routine, so I think I’ve failed before kids are even awake. I go downstairs and realise my other half has been awake with my eldest since 06.30. I feel awful because today is the one day I should be looking after the kids (hubby works). So then I over-compensate and exhaust myself by announcing I will take on all the tasks like getting the shopping with the kids, putting the washing on, clearing up the kitchen. I go shopping with the kids – I de-ice the frozen car, and forget my gloves in the house, which again incites some self-hate for my poor thumb which now feels foreign body-like. Driving down the road I realise there is some frosted snow dusting off the top of the car – which causes more self-criticism  – I am now one of those twats who freely drives along unaware of the potential obstruction caused by flying snow. Post shops, eldest has a meltdown because she wanted to help me put the shopping in the car, I forgot she did announce this en route to shops, so now I think I’ve failed at that.

Let’s add up the obvious self-critical thoughts pre 10 am – 5. And I say obvious, because I have no doubt that there are numerous other little self-critical nuggets creeping in there without me knowing about it.

Post 10am, and it’s time for more self-criticism. I take the kids out on a walk. I take the double buggy in tow because I am well aware of how ‘give me a carry’ these 2 can get, but have immediate self -criticism for my parenting as both scramble for a golden buggy seat (kids not walking = lazy parenting belief). We get to the park and play the never-ending train stop game, where mummy and youngest child have to conform to train stops plucked out of the air by a 3 year old. During this enthralling 20 minute game, my mind starts wandering to what needs cleaning at home. And then I feel bad because I’m not mentally engaged with my kids enjoying this precious time with them. So through criticism and self-hate I  drag my mind back to the play park. Both want to go back in the pram getting home. Eldest wriggles around and gets her foot trapped – wails. More self-criticism – why do I even parent when I’m such a train absent-minded, leg hurting, routine-neglectful mother?

We get home and I’m exhausted. In midst of exhaustion, I notice the washing load has finished, so I go about putting it into the dryer. Hubby comes in, asks if drying cycle is on delicate (so newly purchased cycling gear does not get destroyed). It hasn’t been, so I’m again full of self judgement on my lack of ability to remember such things. During the kids lunch, I nip to other side of kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee, and return to jacket potato mayhem. Again, criticise myself for not being mother-on-demand with hawk-like potato oversight. I grab 5 minutes to check updates on my distance learning diploma – notice one of the tutors has picked out another student for excellent work, and immediate thought is how very unqualified I must be at anything.

All of this is before we’ve even hit midday. And this is on a day looking after kids. Before clinic has even started at work I’ll be self-criticising how I’ve responded to blood tests, wording of referrals, how I didn’t know about certain referral pathways. At the end of a working day I will rarely reflect on the patient who went out of their way to thank me, I will be ruminating over decisions made and actions left until the morning.

You may be wondering if I’m actually ok with all this self-criticism. I am, I function pretty well day to day, I’m not depressed or anxious. But I feel that that it’s kind of amazing with all this self-hate every day, day after day. My thoughts towards myself are so awful I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy. And I am almost certain most of us have similar pitfalls.

Is this self-criticism helpful? No, not in the slightest. It serves only to leave me more disheveled at the end of the day. I believe that some of us feel bad for not feeling bad – like if I wasn’t self-critical about my parenting it would mean I don’t care, which is terrible in itself, so it’s better that I crack on with the self-criticism.

But it doesn’t need to be that way. We can drop the self-criticism, be more self-compassionate, and all be much better for it. I can catch myself when I’m going down the I’m-a-failure-for-putting-clothes-in-dryer train of thought and offer myself an alternative. No-one asked me to do that washing. It was only done as a result of a self-critical thought earlier in the day. Next time, maybe I need to give myself a break and leave the washing if I can. But if I happen to be a total screw up and put it on a cotton dry, hubby is unlikely to have a personality change and fly off the handle. The world will not end. Or at least I hope it wouldn’t; no-ones ruled out the theory of dinosaur extinction by cotton dry setting. 

And I will still care just as much. Giving myself a break doesn’t mean I am a psychopath (who, just for interest, classically lack the ability to feel guilt).

So there it is. Self-criticism, self-compassion and giving yourself a break. I challenge you to look at your day thus far and note done critical thoughts you’ve had. Then think about what you would tell a friend if they had such thoughts. I really hope they wouldn’t tell you to hate yourself for not being fully engaged with every Olaf-related train stop at the play park.