I used to be an excellent bad self-talker.
I would say terrible things to myself about myself. Sometimes, I said them out loud, sometimes under my breath, where no one could hear what I was saying—nobody but me.
I told myself that I was stupid and made poor decisions. If I forgot to bring enough change for the meter, I was a complete idiot. If the stitching on my hem was unraveling, I was incapable.
It was a hidden abuse, as most abuse is. I compensated for it and did well anyway.
Once I realized that self-abuse is just as horrible as the abuse done to me by others that I no longer tolerated, I began to uncover and eliminate the habit.
Because that is what bad self-talk is—a habit and learned behavior.
As destructive as that habit and behavior are, they are accepted, so I also had to give up any desire to participate in what others do.
Sometimes, bad self-talk serves a purpose that we aren’t aware of.
It either makes us victims so others will feel sorry for us or makes us look courageous as we succeed despite it. Neither one is a sound foundation on which to build a good life.
That big, bad wolf could easily blow that house down one day.
Over the years, I have worked at letting go of the bad self-talk habit.
I have pushed that abuser out of my house and locked the door. Sometimes, it sneaks in through cracks in the window or drips in through a leaky roof, but for the most part, I thought it was quiet in my house.
And then I realized that just because I wasn’t practicing bad self-talk didn’t mean I shouldn’t be practicing good self-talk all the time.
It's not just sometimes that I “need” something, want to help someone, or feel bad enough that I engage in good self-talk.
ALL the time!
It was a spring dawn in Ohio that reminded me.
Spring starts in February, even though the ground is often still covered with snow. The birds sing. As the flowers start blooming and the grass trades its brown dress for a green one, every bird is heard singing in its own voice as it greets the dawn. Their morning chorus is astonishing and beautiful.
There is no bad self-talk among the birds. But, not only that. They sing good self-talk.
They sing of their expectations for the day, filled with all good things. Companionship, food, air, trees, the sun, and their young.
These birds work hard. They don’t wake up thinking it is a day off because, for them (I know I am anthropomorphizing), they can’t take a day off.
How could they? They have to feed themselves in order to survive, and in the spring, they have babies to feed, too.
And yet, every morning, they sing of expectation and gratitude. What do they know that we often forget?
They know there is nothing to take a day off from if every day is glorious.
A funny thing happened when I noticed I wasn’t always practicing good self-talk. I noticed a bunch of bad self-talk was going on, too. How did I miss it?
It was because it wasn’t as loud as it used to be and was much more sneaky.
It was time for some spring cleaning and spring singing. It was time to check what I said to myself and end the negativity.
It's always the right time to bump up the practice of finding and routing out any self-talk that does not consistently acknowledge the good that is always present.
It’s not that hard. There is a cure for the habit. It’s called kindness.
Start with yourself.
We can be grateful for our unique song.
We can sing it every morning.
We can spread it around the world.
Kindness is contagious if we practice it.
The theme of the movie Cinderella is, “Have courage, be kind.” That sums it up. If you aren’t sure, watch the movie and get inspired to keep good self-talk and stop the other.
Good things await. Have courage. Sing like the birds. Be kind. And watch the magic happen.
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Thank you for this reminder!