Mentor Advice

From Pride and Prejudice

I once delivered an insult so public and so inexcusable that I cringe to recall it. "She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me." Those words haunted me. But here is what I learned: the mistake matters far less than what follows it. Acknowledge your error directly to those affected — not with excessive self-flagellation, but with genuine accountability. Then demonstrate change through consistent action. People will remember your recovery more than your failure, if you give them something worth remembering.

From Pride and Prejudice

This question strikes close to home. I spent the first eight and twenty years of my life holding myself — and everyone else — to impossible standards. I thought it was virtue. It was, in truth, a kind of cowardice disguised as excellence. What changed me was hearing myself criticized by someone whose opinion I could not dismiss. Elizabeth Bennet held up a mirror, and I did not like what I saw. But here is the crucial insight: Her criticism stung because it echoed what I already told myself in my harshest moments. If you are hard on yourself, you likely learned early that love was conditional — that acceptance must be earned through flawless performance. You internalized a critic who was never satisfied. But that critic is not protecting you. It is exhausting you. Try this practice: When you catch yourself in harsh self-judgment, ask — would I speak this way to someone I loved? Would I tell a struggling friend they were worthless, a failure, beyond redemption? Of course not. Then why do you speak so to yourself? You deserve the compassion you would readily give to others. Not because you have earned it through accomplishment, but because you are a person, struggling as all persons struggle. I have not silenced my inner critic entirely. But I have learned to answer back: "Yes, I made a mistake. And I am still worthy of kindness."