Be Careful What You Tell Yourself: The Language We Live By
There is something I've become increasingly aware of over the years, both in my own life and through teaching others.
The language we use matters.
Not just the words we say to other people.
The words we repeatedly say to ourselves.
"I'm always in pain."
"I'm useless at this."
"My body doesn't work properly anymore."
"I'm an anxious person."
"I can't cope."
"Nothing ever goes right for me."
"I'm too old."
"I've always been like this."
We say these things almost without noticing.
Sometimes jokingly.
Sometimes out of frustration.
Sometimes because, in that moment, they genuinely feel true.
But when we repeat the same language often enough, something interesting can begin to happen.
We're no longer simply describing our experience.
We're beginning to define ourselves by it.
Listen to the Difference
Take something as simple as:
"I'm always in pain."
Now compare it with:
"I'm experiencing quite a lot of pain today."
They may be describing a similar experience.
But they don't say the same thing.
The first statement stretches pain backwards and forwards through time.
Always.
Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.
It can begin to make pain feel like a permanent part of who we are.
The second acknowledges the reality of what is happening without making it our entire identity.
Pain is here.
Today is difficult.
But tomorrow hasn't happened yet.
That isn't positive thinking.
It's simply being more accurate with our words.
And sometimes accuracy is kinder than the story we've become accustomed to telling ourselves.
The Stories We Repeat
Our minds are storytellers.
We take experiences and create meaning from them.
Sometimes that's incredibly useful.
But sometimes we repeat a particular story for so long that we stop noticing it's a story.
"I've got a bad back."
"I'm terrible at balance."
"I'm not flexible."
"I'm a worrier."
"I don't sleep."
"I'm just not very confident."
Perhaps there's truth somewhere within those statements.
But listen to how definite they are.
There isn't much room for movement.
And that's something I find particularly interesting as a Qigong teacher.
Because Qigong is fundamentally about change.
We shift our weight.
Our breathing changes.
Tension changes.
Balance changes.
Attention changes.
The body you brought into class today isn't exactly the body you brought in last week.
Nothing stays completely still.
So why should the story we tell about ourselves remain fixed?
Be Careful With "I Am"
Two of the smallest words in our language can carry enormous weight:
I am.
I am anxious.
I am broken.
I am weak.
I am unhealthy.
I am unhappy.
I am a failure.
There is a difference between experiencing something and becoming it.
"I am anxious" becomes "I'm noticing some anxiety."
"I am weak" might become "I'm rebuilding my strength."
"I'm terrible at balance" might simply become "My balance is challenging me today."
This isn't about pretending.
If you're frightened, you're frightened.
If something hurts, it hurts.
If you're having a difficult time, you're having a difficult time.
We don't need to paint a smile over reality.
But we can learn to describe what is happening without unnecessarily turning it into who we are.
I am not the same thing as what I am experiencing.
That's an important distinction.
Words Have Energy
I often talk in class about energy.
And language has an energy of its own.
I don't mean that in some magical sense — as though saying the right sentence will make everything we want appear.
I mean something much more everyday.
Notice what happens inside you when you repeatedly say:
"I can't do this."
Now notice the difference when you say:
"I can't do this yet."
One word.
But it leaves the door open.
Our language can tighten us.
It can soften us.
It can close possibilities down.
Or leave enough space for something different to emerge.
The words we use influence where our attention goes, what we expect, how we respond and sometimes what we're willing to try.
And those things influence how we move through our lives.
So perhaps we should treat our words with a little more care.
Listen to Yourself
This brings us back to something I teach often in Qigong.
Listening.
Usually we think about listening to the body.
Listening to the breath.
Listening to tension.
Listening to movement.
But perhaps we can extend that practice.
Listen to your language.
Not to judge it.
Just notice it.
What words do you repeatedly use about yourself?
What do you say about your body?
Your health?
Your age?
Your relationships?
Your work?
Your ability?
Your future?
Listen particularly for words such as:
Always.
Never.
Can't.
Terrible.
Useless.
Broken.
Hopeless.
Sometimes those words may accurately express how we feel.
But sometimes they're simply habits.
And habits can be changed.
The Language We Use About Others Matters Too
There's another side to this.
The stories we repeatedly tell about other people can become fixed too.
"He's selfish."
"She's difficult."
"They never listen."
"He's always like that."
Perhaps somebody has behaved selfishly.
Perhaps a relationship genuinely is difficult.
And sometimes clear boundaries are absolutely necessary.
But there is still a difference between describing behaviour and defining an entire person by it.
The same applies to situations.
"This is a disaster."
"Everything has gone wrong."
"This always happens to me."
Language can take one moment and make it enormous.
Again, this isn't about pretending everything is wonderful.
It's about noticing when our words are adding another layer of suffering to something that is already difficult.
Try This
For the next few days, simply listen.
You don't need to correct every sentence.
You certainly don't need to police your thoughts.
Just become curious.
When you notice yourself making a strong statement about yourself, another person or your life, pause for a moment.
Ask:
Is this completely true?
Is it true right now, or am I turning today into always?
Am I describing an experience, or defining myself by it?
Is there another way of saying this that is still honest but leaves a little more room?
Perhaps:
"I'm always exhausted."
becomes:
"I'm really tired today."
"My body is falling apart."
becomes:
"My body needs some care at the moment."
"I can't do that."
becomes:
"I can't do that comfortably yet."
"My life is a mess."
becomes:
"There are some difficult things happening in my life right now."
Nothing has been denied.
Nothing has been sugar-coated.
We've simply stopped adding permanence where permanence may not exist.
Leave a Little Space
One of the things Qigong continually teaches us is not to force.
I often encourage students to work within the 70% Rule.
Don't stretch to your absolute limit.
Don't use all your effort.
Leave something in reserve.
Leave a little space.
Perhaps we can do the same with language.
Instead of:
"This is who I am."
Perhaps:
"This is what I'm experiencing at the moment."
Instead of:
"I can't."
Perhaps:
"Let's see what's possible today."
Instead of:
"I'm always going to feel like this."
Perhaps simply:
"This is how I feel right now."
That little bit of space matters.
Because space allows movement.
Movement allows change.
And change allows possibility.
In my previous piece, Own Your Own Stuff, I wrote about how ownership creates space, space creates choice, and choice creates freedom.
Perhaps our language is part of that same practice.
We don't have to deny what is happening.
We don't have to pretend everything is fine.
We simply need to become a little more conscious of the words we're using to describe it.
Because the words we repeat can slowly become the stories we live inside.
So listen carefully.
Speak honestly.
But perhaps leave a little room for tomorrow to be different.
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