I was thirty before I realized that the voice in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough wasn’t actually mine. It was my mother’s.
She wasn’t a monster. She worked hard, she provided for us, she thought she was helping me become stronger. But the constant nitpicking about my grades, my appearance, how I folded towels, how I spoke left marks that took years to recognize.
Now that I’m a mom myself, I’m hyperaware of how I talk to Ellie and Milo.
When Ellie spills milk or forgets to put her shoes away, I feel that old critical voice rising in my throat, and I have to actively choose something different. Because I know what that criticism does. I’ve lived it.
Research backs this up too. A study published in the Journal of Experimental Child Psychology found that children raised by highly critical parents actually have impaired brain activity in response to rewards and losses.
They feel failures more acutely and successes less fully, a pattern that follows them into adulthood.
If you grew up with overly critical parents, you probably recognize yourself in some of these struggles. I certainly do.
1) You doubt yourself constantly, even when you’re capable
Remember that time you got a promotion at work but immediately thought, “They’ll figure out I’m a fraud soon enough”?
That’s not humility. That’s the legacy of criticism.
When you grow up hearing that what you think, feel, or do is somehow wrong, you develop this pervasive self-doubt. Even when evidence suggests you’re competent (maybe even talented), there’s this nagging voice insisting you’re not quite good enough.
I see this in my own life all the time. I’ll write an article I’m proud of, but before I submit it, I’ve already convinced myself it’s probably terrible. Matt has learned to recognize when I’m spiraling and gently reminds me that my track record suggests otherwise.
The hard part? This self-doubt makes it terrifying to try new things. If you don’t try, you can’t fail. And if you can’t fail, you can’t confirm what you secretly suspect: that you really aren’t capable.
It’s exhausting.
2) You apologize for everything, including existing
“Sorry, could I just squeeze past you?”
“Sorry, I know this is probably a dumb question, but…”
“Sorry for apologizing so much!”
If you grew up with critical parents, you probably learned that your very presence was somehow an inconvenience. You were too loud, too messy, too needy, too much. So now, as an adult, you apologize reflexively for taking up space.
I catch myself doing this constantly. Apologizing to the grocery store clerk for asking where something is. Apologizing to my friends for sharing a problem. Apologizing to Matt for being tired.
He’s pointed out more than once that I apologize for things that aren’t even remotely my fault, or things that don’t require an apology at all. But when you’ve spent your childhood feeling like you’re always doing something wrong, “sorry” becomes your default setting.
3) You’re terrified of making mistakes
Everyone makes mistakes. It’s part of being human.
But when you grew up with critical parents, mistakes aren’t just normal errors. They’re confirmation that you’re fundamentally flawed.
This manifests as perfectionism, but not the healthy kind. Not the “I take pride in my work” kind. The “I’m paralyzed by the fear of messing up” kind.
I see other parents at the park letting their kids experiment and fail and try again. Meanwhile, I sometimes catch myself hovering over Ellie’s art project, wanting to “fix” things before she makes them “wrong.” Then I stop myself and remember: this is exactly what was done to me. And it didn’t make me more capable. It made me afraid.
Research shows that children of critical parents often develop maladaptive perfectionism, the kind driven by fear rather than aspiration. Every small error feels like it proves something terrible about your worth as a person.
4) You struggle to accept compliments or positive feedback
“I love that sweater on you!”
“Oh, this old thing? The color’s all wrong for my skin tone.”
Sound familiar?
When someone offers you genuine praise, your brain immediately scrambles to deflect it, neutralize it, or explain it away. You can’t just say thank you and let yourself feel good.
This happens because if your parents’ affection was inconsistent (warm one moment, harshly critical the next), you learned not to trust positive feedback. Even when people show love and support, you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I do this with my writing all the time. When someone says they enjoyed an article, I find myself listing all the things I could have done better. Matt finally called me out on it: “Can you just accept that someone liked your work without tearing it apart?”
He’s right. But unlearning decades of this pattern is hard work.
5) You’re either overly defensive or you expect criticism everywhere
Your boss says, “Hey, do you have a minute to chat?”
Your immediate thought: “Oh god, what did I do wrong?”
Children who grow up with critical parents learn to be constantly vigilant. You’re always anticipating the next attack, always braced for criticism, always reading into neutral interactions to find the hidden disapproval.
This makes professional and personal relationships exhausting. Constructive feedback at work feels like a personal indictment. A friend’s offhand comment gets analyzed for hours, searching for the criticism you’re sure is hidden in there somewhere.
I notice this most clearly in my marriage. In the early years, if Matt said something neutral like “The house is a bit messy today,” I’d hear it as “You’re a failure at keeping house.” It took time (and his patience) for me to learn that sometimes a statement is just a statement, not a judgment.
6) You’ve become critical of others too
This one’s hard to admit, but it’s true.
When you grow up with constant criticism, you internalize it. That critical voice becomes your inner voice. And sometimes, it turns outward toward others.
I catch myself doing this. Noticing what other parents are doing “wrong,” mentally critiquing how someone has decorated their home, judging other people’s choices in ways that probably mirror how I was judged.
It’s not something I’m proud of. And I’m actively working on it, especially because I don’t want Ellie and Milo to grow up with that same harsh internal (or external) critic.
We learn the behavior we were shown. The criticism we received gets replayed, sometimes toward ourselves, sometimes toward others, often as a defense against our own feelings of inadequacy.
7) You struggle with depression and anxiety
All that negative self-talk and deep-seated sense of not being good enough? It takes a toll.
Studies consistently show that children raised by highly critical parents have higher rates of depression and anxiety in adulthood. That constant internal criticism, that inability to feel secure in relationships, that fear of failure, it all compounds.
I dealt with postpartum anxiety after Milo was born, and working through it with my therapist, we traced so much of it back to my childhood. The perfectionism, the fear of being judged as a “bad mom,” the sense that I had to do everything right or risk being criticized, it was all connected to those early years.
8) You have trouble trusting people in your closest relationships
Even with people who love you, there’s this underlying mistrust.
You might struggle with your siblings, despite periods of closeness. You might have difficulty fully opening up to romantic partners. You might keep friends at a certain emotional distance, never quite letting them all the way in.
This happens because critical parenting interferes with secure attachment. When your primary caregivers were unpredictable (loving one moment, harshly critical the next), you learned that people can’t really be trusted to stay steady. You learned that love comes with conditions and can be withdrawn at any moment.
In my own marriage, this showed up as me constantly testing Matt in small ways, unconsciously waiting for him to become critical like my mother was. It took years of his consistent, non-judgmental presence for me to start trusting that he actually means it when he says he loves me exactly as I am.
Conclusion
If you see yourself in these struggles, you’re not broken. You’re responding in completely normal ways to abnormal childhood circumstances. And with awareness, self-compassion, and often professional support, these patterns can shift.
You don’t have to keep living with that harsh voice in your head. You can learn to speak to yourself the way you wish your parents had spoken to you: with kindness, patience, and unconditional acceptance.
It’s hard work. But it’s worth it.
