Is Your Inner Critic Running Your Life? Meet the Stickler
October 31st, 2012. That date is etched in my memory. It was the day I walked away from Procter & Gamble, my professional home for ten years, my second family. I was single, unencumbered by parental responsibilities, and the time felt ripe to finally pursue my dream of self-employment. It felt like the ultimate freedom.
My colleagues, dear friends, threw a fantastic farewell party. I remember a conversation with Francisco, a former report and friend. We talked about the "INE" – It's Never Enough. We both felt that this concept permeated corporate culture, that constant pressure to push harder, hustle relentlessly, and strive for an elusive perfection. It felt oppressive, and I genuinely believed that as my own boss, I could finally escape it, creating an environment of contentment, support, and self-compassion.
Oh, how wrong I was. INE followed me. I overthought every idea, procrastinated on writing projects because they weren't "good enough," and, more often than I care to admit, battled the insidious voice whispering, "You're a fraud. You're not good enough." Ironically, I became the worst manager I'd ever had...of myself. That manager had a name: Saboteur. Shirzad Chamine's work on Positive Intelligence perfectly describes these critical inner voices that undermine our confidence, creativity, and resilience. They're those automatic, habitual thought patterns, each with its own distinct voice, beliefs, and assumptions, working actively against our best interests.
Today, I want to talk about one saboteur in particular, the one that fueled my excessive self-demand: the Stickler. I'm focusing on this one because it's a major obstacle for working moms trying to thrive and create balance in their lives. Sound familiar? The Stickler might show up in your life like this:
Perfectionism and Unrealistic Standards: The Stickler sets the bar impossibly high, not just professionally, but also as a mother, partner, friend – you name it. You feel this crushing pressure to be the perfect employee, the perfect mom, the perfect partner, all at once. This relentless pursuit of perfection makes it nearly impossible to prioritize anything else. "If I just work a little harder, do a little more, then everything will be perfect" becomes a toxic mantra, leaving zero room for "me time" or even quality family time.
Control and Rigidity: Sticklers crave control. They believe there's only one "right" way to do things (and, of course, that's their way). This can manifest as micromanaging, both at work and at home. Delegating, even to your partner, feels impossible because nobody can do it quite like you. This creates a bottleneck, leaving you overwhelmed and with virtually no time for anything beyond work and the bare necessities. Flexibility, essential for work-life balance, becomes a distant dream.
Criticism and Self-Doubt: The Stickler is a master of criticism, both of self and others. Even when you domanage to steal a few moments for yourself or your family, that time is often spent second-guessing your choices, battling guilt for not working, or fretting about the endless to-do list. This constant self-criticism robs you of any real downtime and reinforces the nagging feeling that you're never doing enough. "I should be working right now," or "I'm a terrible mom for not spending more time with my kids" becomes a relentless internal battle.
Workaholism and Neglect of Personal Needs: The Stickler equates worth with achievement and productivity, so work easily becomes the all-consuming focus. Late nights, bringing work home, constantly checking emails – even during family time – become the norm. Burnout looms, resentment simmers within your family, and your own physical and emotional needs are completely neglected. Self-care? That's a weakness, a luxury you simply can't afford.
Fear of Failure: Fueling the Stickler's drive for perfection is a deep, underlying fear of failure. This fear can be paralyzing, making it incredibly difficult to prioritize or make choices that might be perceived as anything less than perfect. You might avoid taking risks or trying new things, even if they could ultimately improve your work-life balance, because the fear of not measuring up is too strong.
I'll be honest: I'm a Stickler in recovery. But that voice still whispers in my ear, even as I write this. In fact, my Stickler is telling me right now that this post isn't good enough, that the topic isn't engaging enough, that I'm probably wasting my time. I've rewritten and deleted countless sentences, and the urge to just give up is almost overwhelming. But then I remember Brené Brown's wise words from The Gifts of Imperfection:
“Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is not self-improvement. At its core, perfectionism is about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance. Somewhere along the way, we adopt this dangerous and debilitating system: I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect. Healthy striving is self-focused - How can I improve? Perfectionism is other-focused - What will they think?”
I choose not to cave. I will finish this post. It is good enough. I am good enough. And I'm doing the best I can. Treating myself with kindness and compassion feels so much more loving and empowering. And because I stopped obsessing over every single sentence, I actually have time to shut down my computer and go play with my daughters, who just got home from school. How amazing is that?
Now, it's your turn. Let's get real:
Where in your life are you striving for perfection?
How is that affecting you, really?
What would your life look like if "good enough" was actually, well, good enough? What does "good enough" even look like for you?
What possibilities would open up when you truly accept that you're doing the best you can?
How does that feel?
Share your thoughts in the comments. I'd love to hear from you. You're not alone in this.