Chapter 1: Understanding Sensitivity and Self-Criticism

As someone who has always been sensitive, I know that even a single harsh word can deeply wound. When such words come from loved ones, the impact can feel even more severe, akin to a double-edged sword.

I recall my final experience with a little league baseball coach, a figure who embodied anger and volume. His harsh coaching approach drove me away from a sport I once cherished. Yet, I was not without my own faults. My temper often flared during games, leading to numerous laps as punishment. If I struck out, my bat would fly; if I was called out, my helmet would follow. I mimicked what I saw professionals do, believing it was acceptable. My vocal outbursts were frequent and loud.

This fury on the field was misdirected; it was really aimed at myself. Failure felt unbearable, leaving me feeling worthless if I didn’t excel. Even the most innocent teasing could be distorted by my fragile self-esteem, causing me to question the true intent behind others' words.

From a young age, I set high expectations for myself, striving for straight A’s and first-place finishes, despite my disdain for studying and practice. Early encouragement from my father instilled a belief that I was meant for greatness, leading me to think that mistakes were unacceptable.

However, as I began to form my own opinions around the age of 8 or 9, I became less of a favorite in my father's eyes. He preferred compliance over dissent, and this shift led to an uptick in criticism. My siblings and I often felt we could do nothing right in his eyes, a sentiment that persists today. My father's comments could range from questioning my cooking skills to critiquing mundane tasks, which contributed to my feelings of inadequacy.

One phrase he often used was, "Get out of my light!" This was his way of expressing that our attempts to assist him only complicated matters. Such dismissals left us feeling like failures.

In hindsight, I realize my father held me in high regard, which is why he had such lofty expectations. My shortcomings were perceived as his own. He has a compulsive need to criticize, and despite any attempts to change, he often lacks a filter. In many ways, he resembles a Puerto Rican version of Larry David.

I internalized my father's criticism, amplifying it in my mind. While he might have forgotten a comment moments later, I clung to every unkind word. There were instances when his silence would stretch for weeks, leaving me to wonder what I had done to deserve such treatment.

Over time, I have learned to cope with loss. Accumulating failures has a way of teaching resilience. My inner critic has become a composite of all the harsh words I’ve heard, particularly those from my father. It relentlessly questions my achievements and reminds me of my perceived failures.

The echoes of my father's voice often reverberate in my mind, affirming the critical thoughts I harbored. It felt like a collision between my internal struggles and external affirmations of inadequacy.

Yet, reflecting on my journey reveals a different narrative. I have taken risks and faced failures, but I would rather live boldly and stumble than play it safe and feel like a failure for never having tried.

In getting to know my father as an adult, I’ve come to see the roots of his criticism. His disappointment often stems from a fear of inadequacy. I realize now that he viewed me as a reflection of himself. His fears of being an unfit father were likely compounded by his own upbringing.

Today, I can chuckle when he cautions me against falling down the stairs or tells me to wear a hat on a mildly chilly day. Most importantly, I no longer feel the need to impress him. He has witnessed my highs and lows, and there’s no longer a facade to maintain.

Facing my inner critic has proven more challenging than reconciling with my father. That voice still whispers doubts, claiming that despite outward appearances, my father still harbors disappointment. It insists that others see me as a failure who squandered potential, and that I am unworthy of care or recognition.

I have often silenced that voice, whether through quiet determination or frustrated shouts at my reflection. Even on good days, it finds ways to interrupt my peace. I now confront my inner critic, sometimes with laughter, much like I do with my dad.

I also prioritize recognizing my own achievements, no matter how small. Simple affirmations like "Good job" or even a self-pat on the back can make a difference. This practice began when I taught martial arts to children; I encouraged them to acknowledge their efforts, regardless of winning or losing, fostering a sense of pride and accomplishment.

This approach embodies what a good coach should do.

The first video, "Hey Violet - Voices in My Head (Official Audio)," explores the struggle with inner turmoil and self-criticism.

Chapter 2: Confronting the Inner Dialogue

The second video, "Jack Kays - The Voice In My Head (Official Video)," delves into the themes of self-acceptance and battling one's inner critic.

My new book, "Brokedown Sensei: How I Fought Trauma and Bipolar Disorder From The Outside In," is now available on Amazon. You can also find my "Mental Wellness Workbook" on Amazon, a practical guide to help you begin your journaling journey. Additionally, my complete virtual talk titled "Nuclear Fusion, Trauma Recovery, and The Hero’s Journey" is available on the InternalJiuJitsu YouTube Channel.