Befriending Your Inner Critic: Ending the argument
We’ve reached the final step in this series on healing chronic shame—a journey many of us walk for years, often unknowingly. So far, we’ve explored how to (1) unblend from the voice of the inner critic, (2) connect with the wounded inner child, and (3) protect that vulnerable part from continued re-injury. These steps are foundational for softening shame’s grip.
But there’s one more piece.
It might be the most counterintuitive—and the most liberating.
Final Step: Befriending Your Inner Critic
If you’ve ever tried to silence or fight your inner critic, you’re not alone. That voice—the one that says “You’re too much,” “You’ll never be good enough,” “Don’t even try”—can feel like an internal abuser. Many of us respond by trying to banish it: meditate it away, shout over it with affirmations, or pretend it’s not there.
But what if the goal isn't to defeat the inner critic?
What if the goal is to understand it?
In Internal Family Systems (IFS), we come to know that all parts of us—even the ones that cause us pain—are trying, in their own distorted way, to help. This includes the inner critic. It has likely been working overtime to protect us for decades, using strategies it learned long ago in unsafe environments.
The Inner Critic’s Origin Story
Your inner critic didn’t start out as a villain. In fact, it may have emerged in childhood as a way to protect you from shame, rejection, or punishment. Imagine a child who senses that love and safety are conditional: “If I don’t behave perfectly, I’ll be punished or abandoned.” That child may develop an internal voice to monitor, correct, and criticize herself before anyone else can.
The logic goes like this:
“If I shame myself first, maybe I can avoid the deeper pain of being shamed by others.”
Or:
“If I’m constantly hard on myself, I’ll be motivated to improve and finally be worthy.”
This is heartbreaking—and deeply human. The critic is often a traumatized protector, shaped in environments where gentleness was not safe, and love had to be earned. The critic learned to weaponize shame in order to secure attachment.
But here’s the thing: your life has changed. You’re no longer that vulnerable child. And the strategies that once helped you survive are now causing harm.
From Enemy to Ally: Why Befriending Matters
Trying to exile or fight your inner critic usually leads to more internal war. You push it down, and it comes back louder. You try to override it with positivity, and it doubles down on your flaws.
But when we approach the critic with curiosity instead of hostility, something begins to shift.
We start to realize:
The critic is often scared.
It genuinely believes it’s keeping you safe.
It has no idea that there are other ways to support you.
This is where befriending begins—not with forced compassion, but with genuine curiosity: What is this part trying to do for me? When did it first appear? What is it afraid would happen if it stepped back?
You don’t have to agree with its methods to understand its intentions. That distinction is key.
How to Begin Befriending the Critic
Here are some ways to begin this process gently and somatically:
1. Get to Know the Critic as a Part—Not the Whole
Start by noticing when the inner critic is active. You might say, “Ah, a part of me is being critical right now.” This language helps you unblend—so you don’t mistake the critic’s voice for the full truth.
Then ask:
What does this part say?
What does it feel like in my body?
What does it believe about me or the world?
Somatic awareness helps us connect with the critic directly. You might notice tightness in your chest, a sinking in your stomach, or a clenched jaw. Try placing a hand on that area, sending warmth and breath. Offer a quiet, “I hear you. I’m listening.”
You can also create an image of your critic. What does it look like? Is it tall and stern? Tired and harsh? Robotic or parental? Notice how your feelings toward the critic shape the image. If it feels scary, it might appear towering—red-faced, armored, intimidating.
And that’s okay. Just take note.
Over time, as you develop more compassion for its role, the image may begin to soften. You might begin to see a teenager instead of a tyrant. A strict teacher who’s just scared. An old part doing its best.
2. Listen Without Obeying
You don’t have to believe everything your critic says. But try listening with empathy. If it says, “You’re a failure,” try responding with: “That’s a really harsh thing to say. Are you trying to protect me from something?”
Then, offer kindness:
“It must be exhausting to criticize me all the time. Would you like to take a break?”
“You’re so strong and diligent in trying to protect me—thank you for your vigilance.”
What’s most important here is not to argue with the critic. Trying to convince it that it’s wrong often intensifies its grip. Instead of debating, shift into curiosity. The goal isn’t to win—it’s to connect.
If the critic still feels too intense, try softening its image. Picture it as a teenager, not a looming adult. Or imagine its voice coming through a non-threatening filter—a cartoon character, a whisper, a recorded voice slowed down. This isn’t mocking; it’s making space for relationship.
3. Investigate the critic’s fears
This is one of the most powerful questions in IFS. Often, the critic has a deep fear: that without its vigilance, you’d fall apart, be rejected, or fail catastrophically.
Ask this gently and wait. You might hear something like:
“If I don’t push you, you’ll give up.”
“If I don’t keep you in line, no one will love you.”
That’s the heartbreak. The critic’s cruelty often masks a profound fear of abandonment or disconnection. It’s trying to control you to make you lovable. That’s its version of care.
Once you see this, the dynamic begins to shift. You begin to see the critic not as a bully, but as a scared protector who’s been doing the best it can.
Be sure to tell the critic that you understand, and even share its fears. It’s important that you both come to understand that you’re on the same team.
4. Show It There’s Another Way
The critic doesn’t trust you to thrive without it yet—but you can start to build that trust.
Try saying:
“Thank you for trying to protect me. I wonder if you’d be willing to step back, just temporarily, and see how I take care of things without you.”
Or:
“I’m learning how to support myself with kindness now. I’d love to show you that this actually works.”
As you practice being kind to yourself—responding to failure with compassion, taking breaks without collapse, speaking up without abandonment—make sure the critic sees that. Point it out.
“See? I was kind to myself today, and it helped me move forward.”
Over time, the critic may begin to develop faith in your new strategy. It may not fully trust you yet—but it might begin to relax. And eventually, it may transform into a more helpful part: a discerning advisor, a thoughtful editor, even a fierce advocate.
This transformation doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a relationship that unfolds with trust, patience, and honesty.
What Befriending Isn’t
Let’s be clear: befriending your critic doesn’t mean you agree with its messages. It doesn’t mean you let it run the show. It doesn’t mean tolerating abuse or giving shame a free pass.
It means you stop waging war against yourself.
It means you recognize that even your harshest parts are trying to help—and that healing happens not through exile, but through relationship.
Befriending the critic is the ultimate act of self-loyalty. You become the one who can hold both your wounded inner child and the protector who once had no other tools.
You’re Not Too Broken for This
If you’re thinking, “This sounds nice, but my inner critic is too intense”—that is the inner critic talking.
Of course it doesn’t trust this process. It’s been holding the reins a long time.
This is why the first three phases—unblending, connecting with your inner child, and protecting that child—are so essential. As long as you’re blended with the critic, you can’t pull them aside and speak to them. And as long as your inner child is unprotected and deeply wounded, the critic will remain rigid, clinging to the only tools it knows.
But once these parts are differentiated and tended to, the critic becomes more pliable. It can begin to take a break. To soften. To evolve.
You don’t need to rush. You don’t need to feel love for the critic. Curiosity is enough.
Even a small pause, a gentle breath, a whispered, “I hear you” can begin to soften something ancient.
A Final Word
Healing chronic shame is not a quick fix. It’s a slow, spiral path—a return to the parts of you that were rejected, punished, or left behind.
Befriending your inner critic doesn’t mean tolerating harm. It means becoming a compassionate leader to all parts of you, even the ones who learned to survive by being cruel.
This is reparenting at its deepest level: not just soothing the child, but healing the protector who took on a terrible job and did the best it could.
When you befriend your inner critic, you take back the power to love yourself wholly—not by force, but by listening.
