Will Harris is positively breaking new ground
You left me, you will remember, at affirmation stations. My new life coach had furnished me with a list of positive statements, which I was to recite religiously all week. According to life coaching, when a person repeats a mantra often enough, they rewire their brain to believe it; an approach that’s half CBT, half NLP, and more than a touch of Alan Partridge roaring “You’re a tiger!” into his Travelodge bathroom mirror.
Thinking positive. It should be easy, shouldn’t it? The trouble is, when you spend a lot of time in London – where the daily commute includes overcrowding, signal failure, hyper-aggressive city boys, and people with only a passing acquaintance with deodorant – looking on the bright side can sometimes feel like a challenge too far.
“I mean, just look at this!” says my friend C, when I arrive – affirmations at the ready – at his birthday party. I take the business card from his hand and read it. Then I read it again.
“Your eyes aren’t deceiving you,” he continues. “This stupid woman has actually copyrighted her own name.” It’s true. There on the business card, at the end of a Scandinavian-looking name, is a tiny ©. “God, I’m sick of the Square Mile.” says C.
It’s funny; until you actively look for negativity, you barely realise how much of it is around us. We might pass it off as pragmatism or self-deprecating humour, but all we’re really doing is giving ourselves a good, hard emotional kicking.
“Hello,” brays a management consultant, elsewhere at the party. “Nice to meet you.”
“Kapow! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, vague feelings of inadequacy”
This throws me slightly, as I actually met this guy at a different party last month. Normally, my inner monologue would seize gleefully upon this fact and bash me about the face and chest with it. “Nobody remembers you!” it would squeal. “You’re eminently forgettable!” Then I’ll find myself pretending not to remember him either, or – even more outrageously –apologising for his mistake.
But tonight I am equipped with my arsenal of affirmations, and now seems as good a time as any to deploy one. I am worth getting to know. “We’ve met,” I say, shaking his hand, “at a party last month.”
POW! In your face, inner monologue! Leaving the management consultant blinking at my frankness, I waste no time in singling out a new face in the crowd: he is suited, handsome, and taller than 6’2?. Exactly the kind of man, in short, I would normally be far too nervous to strike up a conversation with.
What’s that, inner monologue? I am here for a reason? “Hello, I don’t think we’ve met, have we?” I say. KAPOW! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, vague feelings of inadequacy! Conversation started, phone numbers swapped. Is it really this simple? Is this how everyone else feels all the time? A little positivity, it turns out, can go a long way.
Posted in William Tells
