Imagine a young child proudly showing you a drawing she made. Using a handful of stubby crayons, you can make out what appear to be some trees, although they look more like wobbly circles sitting on top of crooked brown rectangles. There are some figures in the scene, too, but it’s hard to tell exactly who they are supposed to be.
Now imagine yourself rolling your eyes as you criticize the drawing, pointing out the clichéd subject matter, the sloppy scribbles, and the unrealistic use of color. You matter-of-factly declare that it’s just terrible—probably the worst drawing you’ve ever seen—and boast that you could easily draw something so much better.
The little one says nothing, but a single tear rolls down her cheek as she turns away, dejected.
Who knew you could be such a jerk?
Oh, but you are.
Every time you criticize something your past self made.
I was watching an interview with Jerry Seinfeld who was promoting the release of his book, Is This Anything? It’s an exhaustive collection of all of his comedy bits from his illustrious career, including his earliest stuff from the seventies. The interviewer asked him if he ever looks back on his old stuff and thinks about how he could make it so much better now.
“Yes,” said Seinfeld. “But anybody can look at their early work and go, oh my gosh, this is not as good as I got later on. And I started doing that, but then I thought, that’s not really fair to your young self. Because that stuff—whatever it is—got you to the next step, which got to the next step, and the next step. So I thought I’m going to be nicer to this early stuff, instead of going, this is so basic, so infantile, so hacky.”
I can relate to this. A few of my childhood drawings still exist, and of course, they are very rudimentary. (See the example above.) But I even turn up my nose at most of my high school and college work—which is much better than my fifth-grade drawings—immediately noticing every flaw and rolling my eyes at the obvious mistakes.
I can be a real a-hole to my younger self, who was doing the best he could at the time, and whose effort helped lay the groundwork for where I am now.
I say things to myself I’d never utter to another human being, let alone a small child.
Perhaps you do the same with your earlier creations, whether they’re drawings or songs or photos or quilts or woodworking projects or lesson plans. Indeed, the same is true of the greatest thing you and I are in the process of creating: our very lives. We all have a few decisions we made when we were younger that we wish we would have made differently. Choices that, in retrospect, seem like nothing more than a waste of time or money.
It’s probably the reason we are so hesitant to start new things now, as adults: We are all too aware of the a-hole inner critic peering over our shoulders.
But just like the child with a few chunky crayons, we did the best we could with the skills, experience, and information we had at the time.
We need to be kinder to our younger self.
Do not despise these small beginnings from your past.
When you see your old stuff, instead of criticizing the flaws, revel in how far you’ve come, and applaud the effort and bravery it took to begin.
🤔 I wonder…what is something your younger self deserves some overdue credit for?