Distinguishing Self-criticism from Self-Punishment جلد الذات

A Therapist's Perspective On the fine line between healthy reflection and emotional Self-Punishment while leaning Arabic and Greek Culture.

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What would you call self-criticism that has lost the plot? Instead of being helpful contemplation, it has become a way to inflict pain on oneself. In Arabic, there’s a common expression for that: jald al-dhāt (جلد الذات), which literally translates to “flogging (whipping) the self.”

In my private practice in Saudi Arabia, I work with English and Greek speakers, but most of my clients speak Arabic, although younger Generation Z Saudis sometimes prefer to speak English in session, but that’s a topic for another post. Jald al-dhāt (جلد الذات) comes up frequently in therapy because it is such a common Arabic expression. It describes someone whose self-criticism is harsh and pointless, to the point where it is painful to watch.

I started thinking about Jald al-dhāt (جلد الذات) after reading a piece by a therapist in Portland Psychoanalytic about what they call “therapy machismo”. It is the tendency to be radically transparent, to “serve yourself up on a silver platter” as a show of bravery and self-awareness. The author doesn’t undermine the courage it takes to address difficult aspects of ourselves. The problem arises when disclosure becomes a substitute for working through, when performative openness makes genuine disclosure harder.

I admire how the idea subtly guides people to uphold their self-worth. Because, in essence, it says: you don’t have to bleed to be worthy of this process. The work is difficult enough when the disclosure is genuine.

We have all struggled with change and, at times, failed to see meaningful progress. Sometimes the struggle starts to feel meaningless—when we have difficulty even identifying the problem and connecting with it. Jald al-dhāt (جلد الذات) steps in when we lose touch with our real struggle, filling the void with something that feels like effort but isn’t.

The Greek word aisthēsis (αἴσθησις) refers to emotional perception and the capacity to register experience. I like using this word because it is more neutral than its English descendant, sensitivity, or the Arabic ḥasāsiyya (حساسية), both of which carry an implication of fragility. Aisthēsis, by contrast, names a capacity: the ability to sense, differentiate, and attune to the feeling-tone of reality to notice distinctions that would otherwise remain invisible.

The opposite of someone with aisthēsis is someone who is anaisthitos (ἀναίσθητος)—the prefix an- denoting lack or absence, as in Anemia without (sufficient) blood. In Modern Greek, the word is still used as an adjective to describe someone who is emotionally brutish or unperceptive. Not numb, but blunt. Unable to feel the texture and details of life.

Knowing when to stop is a matter of developing the sensitivity to recognise when healthy criticism has crossed over into jald al-dhāt (جلد الذات). People learn the difference over time, as it is experienced subjectively.

Knowing how to stop is the work itself, which is slow (maybe fast?), non-linear, and different for everyone.

“εἰ τὰς αἰσθήσεις ἀναιρεῖς, οὐδὲν ἕξεις ᾧ κρίνεις τὰς ψευδεῖς δοξασίας."

”If sensation is removed, nothing remains to judge false beliefs."

Epicurus