Dragon vs. Bunny
Evie, that evil inner critic voice, is actually not evil. She just is what she is. When she sounds like a dragon who will eat me if I don't get in line, that's the rough part. When I can hear her as just noise, not truth, some old protective habit or mental tick, it's ok.
Then she's more like a bunny that hopped out of nowhere. Acknowledge her, give her a pat, "there, there," let her hop away.
Dragon becomes bunny becomes dragonfly. Part of the landscape, flitting in and out. Not the driving, all-powerful one. Like Darth Vader or the Wizard of Oz or name your dark force of choice, there's a wounded sadness beneath the bravado.
I don't need to push it away or placate it, obey it, worship it, glorify it, question it, understand it, or satisfy it. I can be with it, the dragonfly in the background, and focus on the main event, enjoying all there is to be enjoyed. Being me in this world as it is, taking care of this me, as I am.