The Inner Critic’s Origin Story, Part II: How the Inner Critic Learns Its Voice

Tracing the roots of the inner critic to early connection, confusion, and the need to belong.

In Part I, we explored how shame evolved as a survival strategy. In Part II, we explore how the inner critic takes shape in childhood as the brain’s way of making sense of difficult early experiences. By adulthood, many of us carry an inner voice that critiques, doubts, and holds us back. It didn’t come from nowhere.

My father was an unpredictable man.

Sometimes he’d show up in good spirits, laughing and joking. Other times, he’d come home in a foul mood, filled with anger and volatility.

The unpredictability was hard enough, because I never knew which parent I’d get. But the bad moods were harder because, no matter the cause of his funk, I’d feel worried it was me.

As highly sensitive kid, I was like a tension thermometer. I'd be scanning his face, adjusting my behaviour to try and meet his needs in an attempt to avoid the yelling.

Looking back, it was exhausting. But it worked. It helped me get through those times.

But that kind of hypervigilance doesn’t turn off because you grow up. It turns into a shame-based internal monitoring system. It breeds self-judgement and inner criticism.

The Developing Brain and the Need for Connection

In early childhood, our brains are proverbial sponges. They soak in everything. They're also developing at light speed while being 100 percent dependent on caregivers for survival and regulation.

We continue to depend on our caregivers for emotional and nervous system regulation to some extent until our brains fully mature at around 25 years old

From birth, humans wired to seek connection. Along with food and shelter, we rely on caregivers for emotional safety. So we’re designed to attune closely to their verbal and non-verbal communications. Every smile, frown, hug or sigh is a relational language that we learn to interpret.

The challenge is that young children don’t have the cognitive tools to make meaning from what they observe. So, when a parent is preoccupied, angry or distant, a child doesn’t think, “Dad is stressed from work.” They resort to “Something is wrong with me.”

While far from true, this instinct to self-blame is the young brain’s attempt to stay in connection. Believing that the caregiver is good and they are the problem is safer than the alternative—being alone in a chaotic world.

Mirror Neurons, Absorption, and Identity

Mirror neurons are cells in the human brain that let us empathize and learn by imitation. They’re particularly active in childhood, when they help us absorb the emotional tone of our environment and shape our sense of self.

This means that over time, children internalize both what adults say to them and how parents feel in relation to them. A parent’s chronic disappointment can become a child’s inner shame. A teacher’s irritation might show up later as harsh self-talk. A caregiver’s unspoken anxiety can turn into our own.

Even the most well-intentioned parents can contribute to this. Saying things like "Don't do that," "Be a good girl," or "You're too sensitive," to try and correct unwanted behaviours is common. Kids' brains tend to take statements like these and write scripts for self-judgement. That is, unless they're balanced with attuned reassurance.

(Stressed parents, take note: I've made my share of these kinds of mistakes with my kids. There is no perfection in parenting. It's about realizing when we messed up and doing the repair work—with our kids and ourselves.)

How Shame Becomes a Self-State

In a perfect world, carers meet kids' painful emotional experiences with comfort, reflection, or understanding.

When parental figures react to kids' big feelings with dismissal, criticism, or silence, their brains can't make sense of them. The experiences can't get integrated, so they get stored. Instead of being part of a resolved memory, they stick around like emotional residue.

In these moments, children develop “self-states,” or patterns of feeling and behaviour tied to specific situations. Some of these states are warm and connected. Others—especially those forged from criticism or fear—can feel anxious, small, or invisible.

Without support, the anxious self-states start to dominate. Over time, they blend into the self-concept. They shape how we see ourselves and define our self-worth.

Misattribution and Meaning-Making

One of the most heartbreaking facts of childhood development is this: children assume everything is their fault.

When a parent is emotionally unavailable, the child doesn’t ask, “Why is my caregiver struggling?” They ask, “What did I do wrong?”

Again, this is an act of self-preservation. A survival strategy. It helps preserve the attachment, because blaming ourselves gives us the illusion of control.

But as we grow up, that narrative sticks. And the inner critic becomes the voice of that misinterpreted past.

To be clear, understanding how the inner critic develops isn’t about blaming parents or ourselves. It’s about naming how human and normal it is to internalize what we couldn’t understand.

When we look back with curiosity instead of judgment, we can create the conditions for something new—self-compassion.

Re-writing the script with self-compassion

That old voice. The one that tells me to tread carefully, watch my tone, or brace for someone’s mood. It still shows up sometimes.

But through practicing self-compassion, I can meet it with curiosity. I can see clearly that this is an old, learned pattern, not a personal flaw.

The instinct to self-blame is still there. But I know I don’t have to believe it. I can see myself as a scared, confused kid who didn’t get what he needed. And I have the tools to offer it to myself in the present moment.

Next: How to Recognize—and Soothe the Inner Critic in the Present Moment

In Part III, we’ll explore how to recognize when the inner critic shows up in adulthood. And how to begin relating to it differently—with boundaries, curiosity, and care.