Realizations about exhortations

Kirk Ericson | Mar 17, 20220

Several years ago, I often played racquetball with a fellow who would attack himself.

When this fellow would make a bad shot, he’d yell something like “Nate, you idiot!” or “You’re stupid!” He’d dive for shots and run into the walls and work up a powerful fever all while criticizing his misplays.

He was a good racquetball player, and he was a smart and talented person. As far as what was obvious to me, he had plenty to like about himself, but he had this voice inside that needed to berate himself when he failed to do well. He’d never vocalize compliments to himself — it was only criticism. It made me wonder whether “Nate” treated Nate with the respect and consideration that Nate deserved.

We stopped playing racquetball together after he got a new job in a new town. Not long afterward, I was playing ping-pong at a bar in Olympia when I blurted “Kirk, you idiot” after a bad shot. I heard my utterance with utter clarity. I had done what I had criticized Nate for doing.

After the game, I mentioned to a ping-pong buddy about third-person criticisms of one’s self. He said I do it.

“Really? I do?”

“Yeah. It’s funny.”

Huh.

While I was noticing and thinking critically of “Nate” for making third-person criticisms of Nate, “Kirk” was doing the same thing to Kirk.

Before that ping-pong moment of clarity, I had been thinking about that internal voice that exhorts and criticizes us. I’ve had that voice for years, but I was aware only of the silent version, the voice that says, “You can do this” or “Don’t screw this up” or “Don’t say what you’re thinking” or “Good on you for not saying what you were thinking.”

I conducted an informal, unscientific and unreliable survey of people about whether they talk to themselves in the third person. One-third said “yes,” one-third said “no” and the remaining third I marked as “Not willing to play along.” I couldn’t draw even a half-brained conclusion about the type of people who do or don’t criticize themselves in the third person.

But still, I wonder. Where does that voice come from? What twist of experience or upbringing or turn of nature causes one to make third-person references? Perhaps we all start with that voice, but many learn to control it. Is it a sign of arrogance? How does that voice develop a distinct sense of observational awareness from your essential self? Is it a bad thing? Is it a healthful thing? Does it mean anything?

Here’s something else about the self-articulation of one’s own name, and maybe you’ve experienced it: Sometimes when I’m on the verge of falling asleep, I’ll hear my name pronounced — it’s what’s called an audio hallucination. It’s sometimes so distinct I’ll say, “What?” Sometimes the voice sounds like my father’s, sometimes my mother’s, but I can’t identify the speaker. It’s some disembodied voice of authority.

How common is this external and internal articulation of one’s name? Instead of poll takers asking people how much they love or hate whoever the president is, we could poll U.S. residents on this third-person question.

Or, you could have yourself ask yourself.

■ Email Kirk Ericson at [email protected]