My inner critic voice

My inner critic voice is named Luci. I tell her to shut up, but, she still makes me miserable sometimes.

My husband was unexpectedly asked to work tonight. Second shift, although he usually does third. He normally doesn't work hours that allow me to have a piping hot dinner ready him, but tonight I could. He sure was looking forward to it, when I told him what I had waiting for him. Steaks, baked poatoes, and creamed spinach (which he loves).

Next part isn't so nice.

While making the spinach, Luci struck again. I was doing other things and then checked to see if the water was boiling yet. It should have been. But it wasn't, because I had not turned the burner on. Exasperated, I said out loud to myself, "Well, you didn't even turn it on, you.... (word I'm not going to say here)."

Would I have said that to my husband, if he had made that mistake? Would I have said it to a child I was teaching to cook? Would I have said it to ANYBODY else? Obvious hard no. Of course not. I also don't think I would have spoken up and defended myself, had anybody else said it to me. (My now and forever husband would never, but my ex very well might have.) I probably would start avoiding that person, but I don't think I'd talk back.

Why do I say these things to myself, and allow others to say them to me? Why do I have it in my head that it's OK to aim it at me, but at nobody else? Well, Luci got her voice from somewhere. Not just childhood and adolescence, but well into adulthood and middle age, if I were to show hurt because so-and-so said this and that to me, one of these reactions would have been inevitable.

"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean it that way."
"You must be exaggerating."
"She was teasing. Just joke back."
"Being teased means they like you. If they didn't, they wouldn't bother."
“What did you do to egg them on?”
"You're too sensitive. Don't let it get to you. Learn to be like a duck and let it roll off your back."

And even if the remark was undeniably cruel and vicious, I got:

"He has a lot on his mind. Just stay out of his way."
"She's probably had a hard day."
"He has an illness. He can't help it."
"Well, people have said and done a whole lot worse to me. If that's the worst thing that ever happens to you, you've got a good life."

There was absolutely no:

"That sure was a mean thing to say to you."
"He/she had no right to speak to you that way."
"That was very unkind of them."
"I can see it hurt your feelings."
"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Rest assured that if I were ever to hurt another person with my words (because the first two sets of statements taught me it was acceptable, perhaps?) I would have been roasted alive. This taught me that it's OK to be mean to me, but not to anybody else.

The voice in our heads sure can suck sometimes.
Did you finish the dinner? Did your hubby enjoy it?

He LOVED it.

He works for a casino, driving a shuttle bus. It’s open 24/7/365. They provide employees lunch out of their own onsite restaurant, and the selection can be really, really nice. He’d had prime rib that day. I worried, “Well, that’s going to make this look puny by comparison.”

He answered, “No. This is made with love. That was only made with beef.”

Then he liked it so much he asked for details on how I made it. Everything was just the right amount of doneness and seasonedness, and it was still piping hot fresh off the stove. He thanked me several times while eating.

Contrast ex-husband, who always found a minimum, not an average but a minimum, of three things wrong with every meal I ever made.

Seems like Luci was quite wrong about you..
I’m curious, why did you give your voice a name?

Makes it easier to tell it to shut up. And if other people tell it to shut up, it doesn't hurt my feelings because they're not talking to me. They're talking to Luci.

I read a book by Thomas king whose main characters wife named his “moods”, moods that lead to certain inner talk. It’s interesting, some inner voices are more rooted than others so I guess you might as well give them a name.
Would you prefer if she wasn’t around at all?

Most definitely. I would prefer to have a nurturing, educational mother-type for an inner voice. I've been trying to cultivate one, but she doesn't come in strongly enough to have a name. Good idea you've just awakened in me, though. I think I will try to strengthen and then name her.

A friend of mine made a mistake at work and was harshly corrected by her supervisor. She said sorry and proceeded to correct the mistake. The supervisor continued to berate her for her mistake. My friend decided that enough was enough, so she said to the supervisor, "Who's dead because of what I did? . . . . Nobody! . . . . So knock it off."

I have internalized that mindset. When I screw something up, I get hard on myself. Then I remember my friend's story, and I talk back to myself. I say, "Okay, okay. I screwed up. But no one's going to die from what I did. It's not the end of the world. Just correct things as best I can . . . and move on." That helps me a lot. Not every mistake is a tragedy. Sometimes you have to be your own best friend.

This bold sentence is written as if Luci were making the spinach, but no, it was YOU. You are a whole person, and Luci is just one voice, a part of you that ideally should recede into non-being.

I do not know how much linguistic/semantic experimentation would help, but it is worth trying. Say, if you state instead:

While making the spinach, I heard Luci strike again....

... you can then continue the sentence and say "...but I told Luci to shut the **** up and proceeded to..." and list the corrective steps you took that ultimately resulted in your H being so happy with the piping hot meal, a rare treat.

By contrast, the sentence, as originally written, is a dead end –
While making the spinach, Luci struck again. end of story. Luci got to win. Again.