We tend to think of the mind as this ethereal thing, a swirling storm of thoughts and feelings we’re supposed to somehow "get control of," as if it were a toddler hyped up on cake at a birthday party. But the truth is, the mind is a structure. Just like the body is a structure made of bones, muscles, skin, and organs, the mind has its own anatomy: beliefs, memories, conditioning, instincts, drives... and yes, the infamous super ego.
Despite its impressive-sounding name, the super ego isn’t actually all that “super.” In fact, it’s kind of a jerk.
The super ego is the part of your mind that acts like a mean-spirited inner coach who never made the big leagues. It thrives on shoulds, shames, guilt-trips, comparisons, criticisms, and impossible standards. “You should be further along.” “Why can’t you be more like her?” “Seriously? You’re wearing that?,” that’s the super ego talking.
And here’s the kicker: this whole system gets installed by the time you’re six years old.
Yes, six. While you were still learning to tie your shoes and believing in the tooth fairy, your inner critic was being built, brick by brick, by the adults, institutions, and cultural messages around you. Parents, teachers, grandparents, religious figures, cartoons, and even that one time you got scolded at preschool for coloring outside the lines. All of it became part of a system designed not to empower you, but to keep you in line. Why? Because as a helpless little human, staying in the good graces of your caregivers, your “tribe,” was essential to survival.
In that sense, the super ego had one job: protect you by making you palatable, acceptable eenough, lovable.
But here's the problem: your body grew up. Your nervous system matured. You started paying your own bills. Yet the super ego? It stayed frozen in time. It still thinks you’re five years old and about to get left behind on the playground if you don’t shape up.
So what do you do with this outdated mental software?
You recognize it for what it is: a relic. An antique operating system that no longer belongs in the driver’s seat. And then you talk back to it. Yes, really.
When you notice the critical voice rear its head, you can meet it with a firm:
“Thanks for your input, but I’ve got this now.”
Or, if you’re feeling cheeky:
“Mmm-kay, I’ll add that to my list of completely unrealistic expectations, cool?”
The point isn’t to fight it, it’s to disidentify from it, by defending from it. You literally tell it to “Go away! I don’t need your opinions anymore!” You’re not the voice in your head telling you you’re not enough. You’re the one hearing the voice. That’s a very important distinction.
After you lovingly set that part aside, bring yourself back to your body. Breathe. Notice your feet on the floor, your belly rising and falling. This simple act of returning to your breath sends a signal to your nervous system: You’re safe now. No tribe to be cast out from. No love to be lost by coloring outside the lines.
The super ego may have once served you, but it doesn’t get to run your life anymore.