Is it me or them?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve found myself being critical of others.

It’s not always overt—sometimes, it’s just a subtle thought or judgment that arises when someone doesn’t meet my expectations, whether they realize it or not. Lately, I’ve started to wonder: Is this critical nature simply a reflection of my high expectations? Or is there something deeper at play?

It’s easy to assume that my high standards are the culprit. I’ve always held myself to a certain level of excellence, whether in my work, personal life, or how I approach challenges. I scoff at desperation.  I disregard neediness. I value responsibility, efficiency, accountability, and a strong work ethic, and I expect the same from those around me. When people don’t rise to that level, I instinctively feel disappointed or frustrated. It’s not that I expect perfection, but I do expect a certain effort—a commitment to doing things well and with intention.

However, as I reflect more deeply, I realize that my critical nature may not be solely about having high expectations. It could also be about control—about wanting things to unfold in a way that feels right to me. When people act differently than I would or fail to meet what I consider reasonable expectations, it disrupts the sense of order and predictability I strive to maintain. It’s not just about what they did; it’s about how it makes me feel as if their choices or actions are a reflection on me.

This realization has made me ask another question: why do I feel such a need for control?

Perhaps it’s rooted in the fear of things falling apart or spiraling out of control if others don’t meet specific standards. I’ve always planned ahead, anticipating outcomes and preparing for every possibility. I am a result-driven individual.  When others don’t follow through or take a different approach, it feels like a loss of stability. And in those moments, my criticism is less about them and more about protecting my sense of order.

Yet, I can’t ignore that this critical lens can be harsh and sometimes unfair. Life doesn’t always fit neatly into my framework, and people have different ways of doing things, shaped by their values, experiences, and challenges. I’ve come to understand that my high expectations—whether for myself or others—are not necessarily wrong, but they must be tempered with grace and understanding.

There’s a balance to strike between expecting the best from others and accepting them as they are, imperfect and human. In its raw form, my criticism can be unyielding, but when I pause and give myself space to reflect, I realize that what I want more than perfection is connection. I don’t want to be someone who distances herself from others because they don’t meet my expectations; I want to be someone who can inspire growth while accepting flaws.

In the end, my criticism may stem from high expectations, but it’s more about my desire to control outcomes and protect a sense of order in my life. Recognizing this has opened the door to a kinder way of seeing others—and myself. It’s a journey toward balancing expectations with compassion, and in that process, I’m learning to embrace the magnificence and messiness of life, finally at fifty!