
The Vow Behind "I'm an Idiot"
A client came to me carrying a charge that had surfaced while she was reading a passage in a book about someone unable to own the trait "I'm an idiot." It hit her harder than she expected. She started crying almost immediately and said plainly: being an idiot, for her, has always come with a heavy cost.
The Setup
We began with a simple round, naming the belief as it stood: even though I have this belief that I cannot afford to be an idiot, because it entails heavy costs, I still love and accept myself for who I am. She wasn't fully able to feel it in her body yet, but she knew there was work here, and she was willing to stay with it.
The Incident
As we tapped, the memory holding the charge came forward. At her cousin's wedding, years earlier, there was a cultural understanding around gifts — the value of what's given reflects the closeness of the relationship. Her mother had set aside a costly gift, meant to be passed to an aunt first, who would give it to the cousin's wife at a more appropriate time. In the rush of the moment, my client skipped that step and handed the gift directly to her sister-in-law. Her mother was taken aback and said "What have you done?".
The client was around thirty at the time, still unmarried. In her own words the action was unacceptable. A big embarrassment. Something she still, to this day, had not been able to fully make peace with.
Where the Judgment Lived
I asked a simple question "Who is judging you?" Her answer came fast: me. But underneath, it wasn't really hers. It was her mother's voice, absorbed so early and so completely that she no longer waited for her mother to judge her. She judged herself first, according to her mother's way of measuring, before her mother ever had the chance.
From there, the belief widened past the one incident. It stopped being about the wedding gift and became something more global: "I can never do a single thing right. Whatever I do goes wrong." That was the real weight in the room, not one mistake, but a lifelong verdict.
The Reframe
As we stayed with it, something shifted. She began to separate what she'd intended from what had landed. At the time she gave that gift, she wasn't being careless, she was happy to give it, and thought it was a kind thing to do. She simply hadn't foreseen the consequence. Behaving "like an idiot," it turned out, mostly meant not seeing what was coming, not choosing recklessly.
Underneath the shame was a decision made long ago: to never again risk being a liability or an embarrassment to her parents. That decision had become a kind of oath, one she'd been quietly keeping for decades.
What Changed
She could trace exactly where it shifted. After marriage, she took charge of her life in a way she hadn't before — more patient, more capable of holding her own consequences without her parents needing to step in and rescue her. She hadn't felt like a burden to them since. What she'd really wanted all along, she realized, was simply for her parents to be proud of her, even though they'd never said so directly, and even though her sense of their judgment had really been her own perception all along.
By the end, she could hold the word "idiot" without flinching from it. She said it herself: it's okay to have behaved that way at times, without knowing the consequences, without intending any harm. She was learning — slowly, and admittedly still at a distance — to offer herself a little kindness for a version of herself who was only ever trying to do something good.
We chose to stop there for that day, park the rest for another session, and rest. As she put it: I'm not in the same place I was when I started.
The words we can't forgive ourselves for often aren't really about the moment we said them. They're a verdict borrowed from someone else, worn so long we forget it was ever handed to us.
Let's take a pause for two minutes and think: where in our own lives are we still carrying a verdict that was never really our own to hold?
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Article by Raminder Kour, Accredited Certified EFT Practitioner
Photo by Julia Taubitz on Unsplash
Jason says
Thank you so much for this!
susan says
Thank you for doing this work Raminder,this was so revealing about how words can become beliefs when spoken by a significant other and then we continue this process speaking and feeling the impact as we reiterate those same words……such a powerful process ..thank you for sharing .