When Your Inner Critic Has Her Own Birthday Party: Healing with Reiki and IFS

When Your Inner Critic Has Her Own Birthday Party: Healing with Reiki and IFS

I woke up this morning with judgment blaring through my brain like it was auditioning for American Idol. And wouldn’t you know it? Today would’ve been my mother’s 83rd birthday. Born in 1942, she’d probably be shaking her head right now, saying something like, “Laura, why are you airing our dirty laundry on the internet?”

Sorry, Mom. The truth train has officially left the station.

The Family Business of Judgment

Judgment isn’t just a personal quirk; it’s basically a family legacy. Three generations of women in my lineage mastered the fine art of the critical eye (which comes in handy as a photographer). My grandmother could spot a flaw from fifty paces. My mother had a PhD in the backhanded compliment. And me? I’ve got an inner critic so loud, she deserves her own zip code.

This morning, while trying to meditate (and mentally reorganizing my storage and planning next week’s lunch at the same time), I decided to take a different approach. Instead of shoving my judgmental thoughts into the mental junk drawer, I invited her in for coffee. “So, Judgment, what’s your deal today?” And oh, she came in hot. Called me a “judgmental little bitch” to my face. The audacity. I was just trying to be all Pollyanna with my gratitude journal and positive affirmations, and here she comes, chewing me out like she owns the place.

My DIY Therapy Session

As a Reiki Master with an investigator in Internal Family Systems (IFS), and a sprinkle of “I ’‘ve-tried-every-self-help-method-known-to-humankind,” I decided to roll with it. If my inner parts wanted to talk, then fine, we’d host a full-blown family meeting. And Reiki? She’d be the calm, glowy mediator. Picture this: me, sitting cross-legged in my living room, cats staring at me like I’ve finally lost it, while I channel universal healing energy into the part of me that sounds suspiciously like my mother judging my outfit and life choices.

The Family Reunion of My Parts

Just as Judgment and I were starting to connect, in barged her twin sister: Competition.

“Everyone is stealing your ideas!” she shouted. “That woman on Instagram posted the same quote you were thinking about using last week! Plagiarism!” I had to gently explain that thinking about a Rumi quote doesn’t actually give me exclusive rights to it. She was not convinced. And just when I thought it couldn’t get more ridiculous, in slouched Apathy, dragging her metaphorical blanket behind her and eyeing the leftover pizza. “What’s the point of all this?” she sighed. “Can’t we just eat our feelings and binge Netflix?”

Reiki to the Rescue

Here’s where being a Reiki Master saves the day. When your inner boardroom turns into chaos, you can literally call in the big guns, universal life force energy. So there I was, sending healing light to my three-ring inner circus, Judgment, Competition, and Apathy, while trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “Judgment, want to help me write something brilliant instead of critiquing my outfit?” “Competition, how about we channel that fire into actually finishing projects?” “Apathy, sweetie, you need a nap. Then we’ll talk.”

Breaking the Family Curse

The cosmic punchline? On my mother’s birthday, I realized: I’m healing something she and my grandmother never got to. They didn’t have the tools to sit down with Judgment and offer her a new job description. They didn’t get to ask their parts, “What do you really need from me?” They just wore that itchy judgment sweater like it was heirloom cashmere.

But not me. Not today. Today, I’m offering a different kind of birthday gift, healing this tangled thread of criticism that’s been passed down like fine china nobody wants. My daughter won’t inherit it. She can have Grandma’s treasures and my weird self-help book collection. But the judgment? That stops here.

The Takeaway

Here’s what I’ve learned from this internal birthday bash:

When we blend energy healing like Reiki with the parts work of IFS, real transformation happens.
Not the woo-woo, glitter-in-the-air kind.
The “holy crap, I just had a breakthrough in my pajamas” kind.

Our parts aren’t here to ruin us, they’re misguided little messengers using outdated scripts. With gentleness, some humor, and maybe a piece of chocolate, we can give them new roles that actually serve us.

So here’s to you, Mom.
Thanks for the judgment, I’m turning it into creativity.
Thanks for the critical eye, I’m using it to edit my writing instead of my waistline.
And thanks for being part of a lineage of complicated, powerful women who did the best they could with what they had.

Healing continues, one ridiculous internal conversation at a time.

And if you’re thinking, “This woman’s lost it,”
Well… check in with your own parts.
They’ve probably been trying to get your attention while you’ve been scrolling Instagram. Just saying.