A client once looked down and said, “I’m such an idiot.”
I stopped them.
“I’m not going to let you be hurt in our sessions. And that includes you hurting yourself.”
They looked up, so I made it even more direct:
“When you call yourself an idiot, you’re hurting yourself. I want us to stop that together.”
And then I added something that’s become a kind of house rule for me:
“No heckling allowed in here.”
Most people aren’t trying to be cruel to themselves—this is usually an old strategy meant to keep you safe or keep you moving.
To be clear: the heckler is allowed here. The heckling isn’t.
Sometimes My Compassion Is Blunt
I try to always be compassionate. Sometimes that compassion is gentle. Sometimes it’s blunt.
Blunt compassion sounds like this:
- “I’m not letting you do that to yourself in front of me.”
- “You can tell me you’re upset. You can tell me you’re scared. You can tell me you messed up.”
- “But you don’t get to sit here and call yourself names and pretend that’s insight.”
I’m not doing that because I’m offended. I’m doing it because I’m paying attention to what it does to you.
Self-belittlement doesn’t make you more accountable. It makes you smaller. And smaller people don’t change well.
Thoughts Are Allowed. Feelings Are Allowed. Verdicts Are Not.
If you feel like an idiot, that’s a feeling.
If you think “I’m an idiot,” that’s a thought.
Those can show up. That’s not the problem.
The problem is when a thought turns into a verdict—when “I’m an idiot” stops being a passing mental event and becomes a statement of identity.
That’s the moment I interrupt.
What We Do Instead
When the heckling starts, we pause and translate.
Usually “I’m an idiot” is covering something more accurate, like:
- “I made a mistake.”
- “I’m embarrassed.”
- “I don’t know how to do this yet.”
- “I’m scared I’m going to disappoint people.”
Those are honest. Those are workable. Those deserve compassion.
The heckler can stay. But we’re going to get them out of the microphone business.
The Boundary
So here’s the deal:
If you start insulting yourself in session, I’m going to interrupt. We’ll slow down until we can speak in a way that protects you.
You don’t have to be cheerful. You don’t have to be confident. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.
But you’re not going to be belittled in here—even by you.
If This Sounds Familiar
A lot of people learned to motivate themselves with contempt. It can work for a while. It can even look like “high standards.”
But it’s corrosive.
Therapy is a place to build something better: honesty without cruelty.
If you want help shifting that pattern, I’m glad to talk.
— Stephen C. Arnold, LCSW, PhD (Computer Science)
Technical Counseling (Online therapy across Oregon)
