I was the kind of scrub who had anger problems. I went to tournaments and blew up or coped with anger pushed down and turned rancid. It wasn't being mad at people who were better at me, it was being mad at myself for not being better. I used losing as an excuse to self-flagellate. Trying harder to be competitive was utterly counterproductive.

Going on testosterone blockers helped a little bit, but really it was important for me to realize that this was a manifestation of a real emotional problem I had. It was also important for me to realize that while it was my responsibility to cope with, there is no possible way it could have been my fault. I'd been pushed and prodded to be the best at everything I did since I was three years old, so naturally I cultivated my experiences accordingly. I didn't ask for that. I've had to learn to see the way I see the world as a bunch of adaptations to a profoundly inhumane environment, and that makes it a little more possible to deconstruct them.

My inner critic is an introject of my emotionally neglectful and sometimes abusive parents and the teachers I had when I was very young, all of whom had the same utterly unreasonable expectations of me. "Git gud" doesn't have a time limit attached. Maybe, when people say that, you should be hearing "git better." Maybe you need to git gud at gitting gud. Question your beliefs. Interrogate the notion that you're unworthy of self-compassion because you're Bad At Something. Physically scream at it if you have to. Say, "Get out of my fucking head," and hold what's left gently and say "it's okay." Let yourself cry. It's okay.

Find more things to suck at. Sucking at stuff is punk as hell.