Vulnerability hangovers, the lobster and the function of the inner critic

Dear Penfriends,

On Saturday morning I woke up with a ‘vulnerability hangover’. You know the symptoms. Nausea. Racing heartbeat. Scattered thoughts dashing themselves against a wall of impending doom. And of course, the ceaseless steady monologue of the inner critic, which that morning went something like this: Dear god, what did we say this time? Did we really write that on a public blog? Are we quite well, or are we in fact INSANE? I sat up from sleep, gripped my temples and took some deep breaths. Then I subjected myself to a unique form of torture where I close my eyes and imagine all my greatest icons, teachers and crushes throughout life sitting around a table with their morning coffee, cringing at the contents of my blog.

I’m used to this particular brand of snark from my inner critic, especially after I’ve tried something new, so I got up and made breakfast, cheerfully reasoning that at least my inner critic woke me up on a day I needed to be up early anyway. I was off to Brussels that morning and hadn’t packed, but as I rolled up tank tops and unknotted necklaces I noticed that I didn’t seem able to turn down the din of the snark brigade to the low hum I usually live with. Still, I had weapons ready to dismantle them: a busy schedule, a close friend /travel buddy, and a new book that I had been eagerly anticipating for months. I felt sure that within moments of opening the book, my cruel thoughts would be quietened by the power of a great story! The train from London St Pancras to Brussels is 2 hours and 5 minutes and in business class is an oasis of corporate calm, but by the time we pulled into Brussels Midi, I had read 5 pages of my book and concluded that I needed to delete Substack.

I didn’t want to delete Substack! I’m having such a great time here. I love reading your comments and messages and I feel privileged that so many of you trust me with your fears and dreams. But by Saturday afternoon, I was fully convinced that letting me loose on this forum was more than my inner critic could endure. It was one thing to publish a memoir - a piece of writing that was toiled over for months, drafted and re-drafted, then nipped and tucked by an editor, a copyeditor, a lawyer, my entire family - but a blank page on the internet where my unrestrained mind could run rampant and say just about anything? I knew my inner critic was going to make sleep difficult.

Later I was chatting to my mother, and she mentioned a person who she often has to psyche herself up to see because they are ‘very critical of everything’. 

‘She sounds delightful’, I replied, heavy on the sarcasm.

‘Oh no’, my mum - the most charitable person alive - countered. ‘It’s not her fault - it’s just a function of her intelligence’.

She explained that this person was a respected academic with a fierce intellect, that her critical outlook was the tax she paid for genius. That conversation made me thoughtful. I’d never heard someone express such a compassionate view of the nastier shades of a person’s character. It was a perspective that said the inner critic was not the definitive part of one’s nature, but a sharp tool best used in service to hone a gift.

I’ve been wondering since then about the function of my inner critic, that perhaps it’s a function of creativity too. While it has no function after a feat has been braved - the article written, the canvas splattered, etc, - it is an incredibly useful tool on the second or third draft of a paragraph. It is my damn bestie when I’m pencilling in my eyebrows each morning, and it’s absolutely a useful ally whenever I get in the driving seat and have to double check which side of the road is legal today (I drove on the other side of the road when I lived in LA for 5 years and I still have to chant a line from Clueless to myself sometimes as a safety check: ‘Hey James Bond, in America we drive on the right side of the road!’ Paul Rudd has no idea how many times a year he prevents fatalities on the London motorway). The inner critic has its function, but it is not meant to run the whole show.

So, we’ll press on with Substack! My inner critic can’t believe the audacity of writing something so raw and personal where no professionals are weighing in, but she is appalled by, hmm…most things! She was horrified when I wrote my book. She still sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat remembering that time I had my bum cheeks out on national TV (circa Dancing with the Stars for anyone perplexed) She will inevitably wake up tomorrow gagged at the fact I wrote ‘bum cheeks’ in an email. However, all of the things she tries to talk me out of have been incredibly enriching experiences, and despite the inner cacophony on days when I’m feeling vulnerable, I would not undo any of them.

Through adversity, to the stars!

Eckhart Tolle often says on his podcast:

‘Per aspera ad astra’ which translates as ‘Through adversity, to the stars’.

He talks a lot about how there is no growth possible without discomfort, and that we have to embrace that feeling as part of our spiritual journey. 

Well penfriends, I am feeling very uncomfortable with this new venture, but I am also feeling so much growth. I can’t quite describe it yet but I feel happier, and that holding direct eye contact with people is easier. I’ve had so many meaningful connections this past week in Ghent and back home here in London. I went to my revered author’s book event this week (after finally achieving enough mental calm to finish the book!) and found myself unintentionally sat in his direct eyeline where he couldn’t avoid me, and I didn’t die of embarrassment at the fullness of being seen by someone I look up to. I actually had a nice chat with him and went home feeling relaxed and grateful, glad to be defying the inner critic, showing up and being seen all over the place.

There is another analogy for this about a lobster, which this guy explains here. Den and I are both going through uncomfortable growth phases at the moment, and on days where we lose our nerve and seek comfort again we’ve taken to pointing a finger at one another and simply saying: ‘Lobster!’

I intended to answer another question today but this blog has gone on and I have to meet my friend for dinner so I will conclude it here and come back to you with a reply to a letter next week. Some housekeeping: Momo is helping me create a system to manage all the incoming messages while Lucy is away but we are working out the kinks so hold fire on burning questions for now as we tidy up the inbox. I will chat to you later in the comments!

Hope you all have a beautiful weekend. Don’t forget, now: lobster!

Evy xox