Why Being a Jerk to Yourself Isn’t Helping (and Never Has)

You’ve probably said it.

“If I just had more willpower…”

As if there’s some magical reservoir of moral fortitude you could tap into if you just grit your teeth hard enough and stared longingly at a kale smoothie.

But here’s the bit no one tells you—especially not the smug fitspo brigade on Instagram: Willpower is a finite, twitchy little bastard and beating yourself up for not having more of it is like yelling at your toaster for not being a kettle.

In fact, science (that pesky thing with data and evidence) has a very clear message on this: being hard on yourself doesn’t work.
Not sort-of doesn’t work. Not “oh it’s okay in moderation.”
I mean categorically, statistically, unequivocally makes things worse.

Let’s paint a picture:

You’re trying to make changes. Eat better. Move your body. Maybe stop inhaling an entire loaf of banana bread while standing in your kitchen wondering where your life went sideways.
But instead of backing yourself like a decent human with even a smidge of compassion, you’ve got this hypercritical banshee in your brain muttering things like:

• “You’re lazy.”

• “You’ve got no discipline.”

• “You’re a failure in activewear.”

This inner voice—let’s call it The Prick in Your Head—masquerades as motivation.
It tells you that if you just hated yourself enough, you’d change.
If you just felt worse, you’d finally do better.

And to that, I say: Are you joking?

If that approach actually worked, you’d be the healthiest, fittest, green-juice-chugging goddess on the planet by now.
Because you’ve tried being mean to yourself. You’ve tried guilt, shame, punishment.
And where has it got you?
Back to square one. Possibly with less self-esteem and more Uber Eats receipts.

Because here’s the actual truth, backed by actual psychology:

Self-criticism doesn’t make you behave better. It makes you behave like someone who believes they’re broken.

And your brain—clever, stubborn little thing that it is—will try to prove you right.
Call yourself “hopeless” enough times and your brain will helpfully go,

“Ah yes, right you are,”
then gently nudge you towards the biscuit tin because why would someone who’s hopeless do anything different?

It’s called confirmation bias and your inner critic is its unpaid intern.

Self-Judgement Is Basically a Saboteur in a Bad Wig

Here’s the real problem:
Self-judgement doesn’t inspire growth.
It’s not a life coach—it’s an anchor.
And every time you indulge it, you’re driving with the handbrake on, flinging insults at yourself while wondering why the car’s not moving.

You can’t bully yourself into better habits.
You can’t shame yourself into self-respect.
And you sure as hell can’t yell your way into confidence.

But we keep trying. Because we’ve been taught to.
By diet culture. By hustle culture. By that one P.E. teacher who thought humiliation was a growth strategy.

So What’s the Fix?

Not another 12-step plan. Not a juice cleanse.
Just this:

Be. Less. Of. A. Dick. To. Yourself.

I know. Wild.

Instead of doubling down on criticism, you try compassion.
(Yes, I said compassion. Yes, I know that word makes you want to roll your eyes. Get over it.)

I’m talking about compassionate self-talk—not the floaty, fairy-wings version that tells you to manifest your desires under a full moon.
I mean actually supportive, actually useful, grounded-in-reality inner dialogue.

The kind of talk you’d offer a mate.
Because if your best friend called you crying, saying, “I stuffed up again, I feel like a failure,”
you wouldn’t say, “Yeah, well, you ARE. Suck it up, fatty.”
So why are you saying that to yourself?

Here’s a trick:
Next time you catch yourself mentally kicking your own shins, ask:

“Would I say this to someone I care about?”
If the answer is no, then congratulations, you’ve just identified your internal arsehole.
Now gently escort them offstage.

The Awkward, Liberating Truth

The path to actual, sustainable change doesn’t start with restriction.
Or spreadsheets.
Or sad lettuce.

It starts with kindness.

Kindness gives you permission to try again.
To learn. To stuff up and still move forward.
Criticism just pins you to the wall and calls it “motivation.”

Changing how you talk to yourself is weird at first. Like writing with your non-dominant hand or eating soup with a fork.
But keep doing it.
Because that shift?
That one small, wobbly change in self-talk?
It unlocks momentum.
It releases the handbrake.

And suddenly the road ahead?
Feels a hell of a lot smoother.
Less like punishment. More like progress.

So next time you’re tempted to “get tough” on yourself, remember:
The voice in your head isn’t a drill sergeant. It’s a steering wheel.
Where you point it? That’s where you go.

Point it somewhere kinder.