Why do we so often devalue ourselves and others? Why does our inner critic not give us peace, even when there are no objective reasons for doubt? This video is about how the mechanism of self-devaluation works, where it comes from, and how it affects our lives. We will explore why people tend to downplay their own achievements and why it’s so easy to devalue others'. Is it possible to get rid of the inner critic? And most importantly — should we?
Somewhere deep within each of us lies a voice that knows better. It gently whispers when something is off or shouts when a mistake feels unbearable. In its echo, you can hear the stern instructions of parents, sarcastic comments from teachers, and disappointed looks from authority figures. It knows all the weak spots and isn’t afraid to remind us of them.
It may seem like just thoughts. But if we listen long enough, they become part of our self-identity. "You're not good enough," "This is just a fluke," "If you make a mistake, everyone will know you're nobody." The inner critic, the very voice that should help us become better, often turns into a tyrant that destroys confidence. It forms the impostor syndrome, causing us to devalue our achievements and live in constant fear of exposure.
The devaluation mechanism is not only a way of dealing with oneself but also a way of interacting with the world. If everyone acknowledged others' successes without envy, accepted their imperfections without shame, and mistakes without fear, the critic would lose its power.
However, the defense mechanisms formed in childhood operate by different rules. To feel less vulnerable, people devalue — themselves, others, situations. They try to save themselves from the feeling of inadequacy by subconsciously creating distance between themselves and whatever causes discomfort.
Devaluation is a subtle art. It can manifest openly as harsh criticism or skillfully hide behind the mask of objectivity. "It's just luck," "Nothing special," "Anyone could have done this" — phrases that eat away at any achievement from the inside. Sometimes they are directed at ourselves, sometimes at others. But the result is always the same: the world around seems less meaningful, and with it, our efforts to change things.
However, it's important to learn to devalue wisely. Sometimes, it's the only way to break the emotional bond and not drown in the pain of loss. After breaking up with a partner, you can endlessly analyze what went wrong, or you can reduce it to a simple truth: "It was an important experience, but we weren’t right for each other." Instead of exaggerating feelings ("I'll never meet anyone again!"), it's better to diminish their weight ("This is just a phase in life"). This shift in focus helps recover faster.
Devaluation becomes useful when it’s used as a method of minimizing the significance of a problem, not denying its existence. If it seems like work has hit a dead end, you can drown in self-blame, or you can say, "This is just one of the many challenges life will bring." If something doesn’t work out, instead of "I’m a failure," you can think, "So what? It happens." This conscious shift in focus prevents getting stuck in unnecessary worries.
But there are moments when devaluation becomes a weapon against ourselves. When someone adds diminutive suffixes to your name — "Sashenka," "Mashenka" — it’s like a hint that you’re not fully grown and your words or achievements aren’t that important. Demanding serious treatment is also a way of defending your boundaries.
The fine line between the wise use of devaluation and self-destruction lies in not overplaying it. If we get used to devaluing everyone around us, the same voice starts working against us.
If we use this mechanism consciously — to get through tough situations, to reduce stress, to protect ourselves from manipulation — it becomes a powerful tool.
But it’s important to remember: if devaluation becomes an automatic reaction to everything, it prevents us from moving forward.
Self-esteem grows not where there are no mistakes, but where they are not seen as the end of the world. Gratitude helps break free from the trap of the inner critic by shifting focus from what hasn’t been achieved to what already exists.
Acknowledging our own efforts — small, imperfect, but real — disarms the impostor syndrome. Instead of an endless chase for perfection, we embrace ourselves in the process.
Ultimately, proper criticism — the kind that leads to growth, not self-destruction. But as long as the critic within is driven by fear, it won’t teach anything useful. It can be noticed, questioned, and acknowledged. And perhaps, for the first time, we can ask: "What are you really trying to tell me?"