I Don't Let People's Criticism Of Me Affect My Life
On Dealing with Criticism:
Anytime you are critiziced, you will react defensively. You will ask yourself questions about the validity of their criticism. You will exclaim how rude and brazen they were to openly disrespect you in your own space. Their inconsiderate and undignified words prick at your self esteem. When you are criticized, it stings.
Dealing with criticism means keeping your composure: never let them see you sweat, never let them see you cry, never let them see you shake even though you feel gut punched, even though you feel like their words are like smoke in your eyes, even though, you feel like walking out and running miles away from them. They don’t have the power - you do. Most often they want the reaction. Oh, how they want to see you squirm, like a fish out of water gasping for breath. They want to make you uncomfortable and revel in the discomfort they wrought.
When someone says “I hate this...” “I hate you...” “I hate your...” and it is attached to yourself - it stings. I would never say that to someone. Unless I have a good reason to justifiably hate someone, I can’t. Because I don’t get my way, I should hate? Because it is boring, I should hate? Because it wastes my time, I should hate?
I usually do a good job at letting things roll of my back. I don’t let little things bother me, but when I was told “I hate this thing about you” I felt small. I felt tiny. I sunk into my stool, the backless chair that it is. I hid behind my computer screen. I hid. And then for a momemt, I wanted to walk out the door amd neve come back, right in the middle of my task. Just. Leave. I knew I couldn’t, so I did what any adult would do, I picked myself up and carried on. I did what Nurse Jackie would do: I got up, got dressed, and kept on going because that is what we do.
My mom is a nurse.
It bothered me yesterday. It doesn’t bother me today. A good nights sleep, a talk with my sister, a laugh with my friend, a confide with my colleague, and the unconditional embrace of my dog made it better.
It’s not just words. It was the rejection of everything I personally do to make someone’s life better that hurt. It was the inconsiderate gesture that made it offensive, the attempt to invalidate me that sunk me so. But it’s okay. The world is big. Some people will say thing about you that aren’t always true. But that doesn’t define you. You always get to define yourself. That is their actions. Not yours. Make your own.
Anytime you are critiziced, you will react defensively. You will ask yourself questions about the validity of their criticism. You will exclaim how rude and brazen they were to openly disrespect you in your own space. Their inconsiderate and undignified words prick at your self esteem. When you are criticized, it stings.
Dealing with criticism means keeping your composure: never let them see you sweat, never let them see you cry, never let them see you shake even though you feel gut punched, even though you feel like their words are like smoke in your eyes, even though, you feel like walking out and running miles away from them. They don’t have the power - you do. Most often they want the reaction. Oh, how they want to see you squirm, like a fish out of water gasping for breath. They want to make you uncomfortable and revel in the discomfort they wrought.
When someone says “I hate this...” “I hate you...” “I hate your...” and it is attached to yourself - it stings. I would never say that to someone. Unless I have a good reason to justifiably hate someone, I can’t. Because I don’t get my way, I should hate? Because it is boring, I should hate? Because it wastes my time, I should hate?
I usually do a good job at letting things roll of my back. I don’t let little things bother me, but when I was told “I hate this thing about you” I felt small. I felt tiny. I sunk into my stool, the backless chair that it is. I hid behind my computer screen. I hid. And then for a momemt, I wanted to walk out the door amd neve come back, right in the middle of my task. Just. Leave. I knew I couldn’t, so I did what any adult would do, I picked myself up and carried on. I did what Nurse Jackie would do: I got up, got dressed, and kept on going because that is what we do.
My mom is a nurse.
It bothered me yesterday. It doesn’t bother me today. A good nights sleep, a talk with my sister, a laugh with my friend, a confide with my colleague, and the unconditional embrace of my dog made it better.
It’s not just words. It was the rejection of everything I personally do to make someone’s life better that hurt. It was the inconsiderate gesture that made it offensive, the attempt to invalidate me that sunk me so. But it’s okay. The world is big. Some people will say thing about you that aren’t always true. But that doesn’t define you. You always get to define yourself. That is their actions. Not yours. Make your own.
36-40, M