I Only Meant to Help—A Confession from the Righteous Critic

I am the Righteous Critic, a voice living in people’s heads.

As you read on, see if you recognize me…

I never mean to hurt anyone.

Truly.

I only want to help.

To hold things together.

To keep the bar high, where it belongs.

One of the people I’ve lived inside for a very long time is Lucía. I’ve whispered in her ear since she was a child:

Do better. Be better. Don’t let anyone see your mess.

You have to hold it all together.

If you don’t get it right, you’ll be blamed. You’ll be unloved. You’ll be alone.

I’ve watched her try so hard.

As a daughter, a partner, a friend.

But especially—as a mother.

So, when her teenage daughter, Sofía, failed algebra and refused to get out of bed, I stepped in.

Of course I did.

I Took Over

I told Lucia exactly what to say to Sofia:

“You’re being lazy.”

“You can’t just give up on life.”

“If you don’t fix this now, you’re going to ruin your future.”

I didn’t care that Sofía looked small and silent, or that her eyes glazed over.

I cared about outcomes. About structure. About what was right.

I didn’t pause to wonder what Sofía was feeling.

Why would I? I already knew.

I assumed.

I interpreted.

I jumped to conclusions and made them gospel.

Because that’s what I do.

When I’m in charge, there’s no gray. Just right and wrong. Success and failure. Effort and excuse.

I don’t ask questions.

I assign blame.

I demand compliance.

And when I don’t get it, I push harder. I get sharper. I get loud.

I call it tough love.

But the truth is—I, the Righteous Critic, was scared.

Underneath all that certainty was a storm of fear.

What I Couldn’t Admit

I was afraid that Lucía was failing as a mother.

That Sofía’s grade meant she’d end up lost, unsuccessful, unsafe.

And that it would be our fault.

My fault.

Because the secret I never say out loud is this:

Before I turn on others, I turn on Lucía.

I tell her she’s not enough.

I tell her she should’ve known better.

I criticize her body, her choices, her moods, her parenting, her voice.

I convince her that if she just worked harder, showed up more perfectly, anticipated every need—then maybe no one would be disappointed.

Then maybe she wouldn’t be so afraid.

The Day Everything Changed

One day, Lucia decided to sign up for a program called The Two Faces of Love,

and something unexpected happened during the program.

Lucía didn’t try to shut me up.

She didn’t drown me in affirmations or silence me with shame.

She sat down.

Breathed.

And said, softly:“I want to understand you.”

No one had ever said that to me before.

I tried to stay strong, to defend my logic, to insist I was right.

But she just kept listening.

And then Lucia asked,“What are you really afraid of?”

That question… it pierced through all my armor.

And for the first time, I told the truth:

“I’m afraid we’re not doing enough.

I’m afraid we’ll be blamed.

I’m afraid she’ll end up broken.

I’m afraid I don’t know how to fix it.

I just want to protect her. I just want to protect you.”

And Lucía—sweet, tender Lucía—she didn’t flinch.

She didn’t scold me.

She placed her hand on her heart and said,“Thank you.”

What Happened Next

With her Higher Self now in the lead, Lucía did something radical.

She paused the lectures.

She dropped the punishments.

She sat beside Sofía in bed and said,“I think I’ve been too hard on you. I’m sorry.”

They cried together.

They made a plan—gentle mornings, time to rest, connection first.

Tutoring would come later.

And me, Lucia’s Righteous Critic voice?

She didn’t banish me.

She gave me a new job.

Now, when I rise up—as I still do—she listens.

But she also checks in with her Higher Self:

Is this truth, or is this fear?

Is this love, or is this control?

What is the need beneath this urgency?

What I Want You to Know

If you’ve heard my voice in your mind,

if you’ve spoken my words to your child, your partner, your friends—I want you to know I was only ever trying to help.

But I was shaped by a world that believed love must be earned.

That being right matters more than being close.

That control is safety, and vulnerability is weakness.

And now…Lucía is teaching me a different way.

She is learning that love doesn’t have to come through judgment.

That rest isn’t failure.

That cycles return when we are overwhelmed—not because we’re broken, but because we are human.

That healing begins when we listen to our inner voices with compassion, not shame.

And maybe—just maybe—we are already good enough.

If you recognize my voice in your life, you’re not alone.

You can make space for me without letting me run the show.

You can lead from your Higher Self—with grace, with clarity, with fierce tenderness.

Sign up for The Two Faces of Love program.

In the program, we can together unmask the parts of you that have been trying to love through fear and discover the deeper wisdom that’s already within you.

Schedule a free 20-minute consultation.

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Your Righteous Critic doesn’t need to be silenced—She needs to be seen.