Shooting the Second Arrow
There’s a teaching from the Buddhist philosophy that has shaped the way I think about suffering, both in my own life and in the lives of the people I work with. It’s called the parable of the two arrows.
The teaching goes like this: when struck by an arrow, we feel pain. That’s the first arrow — the unavoidable discomfort of being human. Illness, loss, mistakes, stress, disappointment. None of us escape them.
But then, often without realizing it, we pick up another arrow and shoot ourselves with it. That’s the second arrow: the guilt, the self-blame, the “shoulds” and “what-ifs” we fire at ourselves on top of the initial pain.
It’s a metaphor that resonates deeply with me, partly because I have a lifelong tendency toward perfectionism and self-criticism. For me, the second arrow often arrives instantly — so quickly it feels like part of the first wound. A small mistake at work, a moment of distraction with my family, or just a day where my energy dips … and the self-judging voice shows up right on cue:
“You should have done better.”
“You’re failing again.”
“Other people don’t struggle with this.”
The second arrow doesn’t soften the pain of the first — it doubles it.
What the second arrow looks like in everyday life
The second arrow is subtle. It often masquerades as “holding ourselves accountable,” but in reality, it turns challenges into self-punishment. Here are a few examples I see often — and know personally too.
A parent under stress
A parent comes home exhausted after a draining day. Their child wants to play, but their mind is tangled in work deadlines and family concerns. The first arrow: fatigue and distraction. The second arrow: “I’m a terrible parent. I should be fully present. Why can’t I get this right?”
The first arrow is inevitable — no human can be switched on all the time. The second arrow adds shame, which ironically makes it harder to reconnect with the child.
A partner under pressure
Someone snaps at their partner after holding in stress all day. The first arrow: irritability, tension. The second arrow: “I’m unkind. I don’t deserve their love.”
Here, the second arrow transforms a common human slip into a moral judgment about the person’s worth. It shifts the focus from repair (“I’m sorry, I was stressed”) to self-condemnation.
A professional mistake
A colleague forgets to send an email or misplaces a detail in a presentation. The first arrow: embarrassment, the natural sting of error. The second arrow: “I’m incompetent. Everyone’s losing respect for me.”
Again, the second arrow turns a moment into an identity: “I am bad,” rather than “I made a mistake.”
Why do we shoot the second arrow?
From a psychological perspective, there are several reasons why the second arrow is so common:
Evolutionary wiring.
Our brains evolved to detect threats quickly. The “inner critic” is part of a survival system that tries to prevent future mistakes. But what was once helpful for avoiding danger (e.g., remembering which berries made us sick) becomes toxic when it constantly criticizes us for everyday imperfections.Perfectionism.
Research shows that perfectionism is closely linked to self-criticism, depression, and anxiety (Frost et al., 1990). When our standard is flawlessness, every misstep feels catastrophic — making the second arrow almost inevitable.Cultural conditioning.
Many of us grew up in environments where performance, productivity, or obedience were highly valued. We may have learned to motivate ourselves with criticism, assuming it’s the only way to keep going.Fear of complacency.
People often fear that if they let go of self-criticism, they’ll become lazy or careless. But research shows the opposite: self-compassion is linked to greater motivation and persistence (Neff, 2003).
So the second arrow isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a well-rehearsed habit, deeply ingrained by biology and culture. Which means — and this is the hopeful part — it’s also something we can unlearn.
The way through: awareness, compassion, and practice
The second arrow may be automatic, but it isn’t inevitable. With practice, we can learn to notice it, soften it, and eventually put down the bow.
1. Name the arrows
When you notice yourself spiraling into self-blame, pause and say: “This is the second arrow.” Naming it creates distance between the event (the first arrow) and your reaction (the second). That tiny gap is often enough to interrupt the cycle.
2. Mindfulness practice
Mindfulness helps us notice our thoughts and emotions without fusing with them. It doesn’t mean silencing the critic or forcing ourselves to “stay calm.” It means observing with curiosity: “Oh, that’s my mind firing a second arrow.”
Jon Kabat-Zinn’s words come to mind: “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” Mindfulness is the surfboard — not removing the arrows, but helping us ride them with less injury.
3. Self-compassion
Kristin Neff’s research shows that people who practice self-compassion are more resilient, more motivated, and less likely to experience burnout (Neff, 2003). When the second arrow strikes, try asking: “What would I say to a close friend in this exact situation?” Then, say those words to yourself.
4. Gentle reframing
Notice the language of identity (“I’m a bad parent,” “I’m incompetent”) and reframe it into language of experience (“I had a hard moment,” “I made a mistake, like everyone does”). This shift reduces shame and makes space for learning.
5. Repair, not repeat
Instead of dwelling on self-blame, focus on repair. If you snapped at a partner, apologize gently. If you were distracted with your child, acknowledge it and try again tomorrow. Action heals more effectively than self-criticism ever could.
My personal reflection
For me, the hardest part has always been catching the second arrow quickly enough. Often, I only realize it hours later, when the knot of shame has already formed in my chest.
But over the years, through mindfulness and compassion practice, I’ve become better at spotting the moment it happens. Sometimes I can even smile at it: “Ah, here comes my inner perfectionist again, always ready with the second arrow.” That soft acknowledgment helps me put the bow down, even if just for a moment.
I wish I could say I never shoot the second arrow anymore — but that would be another perfectionist trap. The truth is, this is lifelong work. But every moment I notice, every time I offer myself a kinder word, I’m loosening the grip of that old habit.
And what I’ve discovered is this: self-compassion doesn’t make me complacent. It makes me braver. Because when I’m not wasting energy stabbing myself with extra arrows, I have more strength to face the challenges of life — the real, unavoidable first arrows.
A gentle reminder
You will face the first arrows of life: stress, mistakes, misunderstandings, fatigue. They’re part of being alive. But the second arrow — that unnecessary layer of self-judgment — is optional.
Every time you notice it, every time you soften, you’re practicing a new skill. A kinder way of being with yourself.
So the next time you hear the thought, “I should have done better,” try pausing. Take a breath. Place your hand gently on your chest, if it helps. And remind yourself: “This is the second arrow. I don’t have to fire it again.”
Try This: A Self-Compassion Pause
Here’s a simple exercise you can use whenever you notice the second arrow:
Pause. Close your eyes, if comfortable. Notice the feeling in your body — tension, heaviness, tightness. That’s the first arrow.
Name it. Say to yourself: “This is the second arrow. My mind is being self-critical.”
Soften. Place a hand over your heart or take a slow breath. Offer yourself kind words: “This is hard, but I’m human. I’m allowed to struggle.”
Redirect. Gently ask: “What do I need right now?” — a rest, a conversation, a glass of water, or simply to let the moment pass.
This practice doesn’t erase the first arrow, but it can prevent the second from piercing as deeply.
✨ Final thought: Healing isn’t about never getting struck. It’s about learning to put down the bow.
