Over the weekend I participated in a little experiment. Could I go a whole weekend without criticizing my sweetie? The experiment was motivated by Charlie’s post last Friday (thanks, Charlie, for not only a great idea but for presenting it in the bite-sized chunk that made it seem possible to try). I think I mostly succeeded.
Because I did the experiment without telling Andy (in case I failed miserably, my reasoning went), my results might be a little cloudy, but I definitely caught and stopped myself more than once when I was about to be critical. So I know for sure that I criticized less, and that’s something. And because I was paying attention and not just cruising along on auto-pilot, I noticed how I tend to criticize. I don’t usually make an overt statement, but I ask these leading questions. A habit, one of many, that I’d like to change.
I told Andy about the experiment this morning to see how I did. I asked if he remembered if I criticized him at all over the weekend, and no, he didn’t. But he wasn’t really paying attention, so who knows. There’s also the aspect to consider that I might not think I’m criticizing him at any given time, but he might be feeling criticized, which amounts to the same thing. I’m going to keep going now that Andy does know about the experiment, and we’ll see what happens with that. It should lead to some interesting conversations, at least. I’ll keep you posted.
One thing that I did do a lot of over the weekend, though, was criticize myself. Saturday was fine, plans went relatively smoothly, and we were doing something fun. But Sunday I woke up feeling lousy, both physically and emotionally. We had a social thing planned for that afternoon/evening, and I tried to be gentle with myself and do self-care things to help me feel better, but all day I was internally tormenting myself with guilt and self-criticism about the likely outcome that we’d just stay home. Even after I called to cancel, I was still beating myself up. And that was on top of feeling guilty for not doing another canning session (even though I felt kind of ill), worrying about the canning I’ve done so far (please, God, don’t let us die from botulism), and all sorts of other stray anxieties about everything from the state of our house to the amount of grey hair on my head. Lovely.
It happened again Monday night (or maybe I should say it was still going on). Last week I’d tentatively offered to drive to Pittsburgh to see an east coast friend who would be there on business. Let’s set aside the fact that even considering doing what amounts to 5 hours of driving and a probable overnight stay away from Andy and my cat-baby for maybe 2 or 3 hours of visiting is a pretty nice thing to do in the first place. Let’s not even mention that it’s Pittsburgh, for crying out loud, where I am pretty much guaranteed to get lost at least once, further upping the sacrifice factor.
I came to my senses and realized that my schedule for the week (did I mention how many bushels of apples are gracing our kitchen right now? I had to take furniture out of the room to accommodate them) didn’t really allow time for me to make the trip. Seems perfectly okay, right? So I called my friend to make my apologies (instead of just emailing), and he (teasing, of course, always with the teasing) called me a loser. Now, I know he doesn’t actually think I am a loser. I know he was just disappointed, because hey, who wouldn’t want to have dinner with me? But he said it, and here’s the kicker, I agreed with him.
What the fuck? I called myself a loser because I changed my mind about doing something that was honestly a tad overambitious in the first place? How is that useful? So I think a bigger challenge for me will be: can I go a weekend, or a day, without criticizing myself? Tell you what, I’m sure going to try.
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Recognizing the self-critical voice and what to do about it also came up in that Newly Emotionally-Available Man book I’m reading. Goodness, it’s got everything. I’m going to find out if the author wrote anything else. She might be the Aldren Watson (the guy who wrote my bookbinding book) of human emotions.
I’ve often wondered: if I talked to a good friend the way I sometimes talk to myself, I probably wouldn’t have that friend anymore. Put that self-critical goblin into a closet and toss the key. Easier said than done.
i *try* to be as nice to myself as i would be to a complete stranger. my success varies widely.
.-= debby´s last blog ..What do you make of this? =-.