I know we all have a lot of negative voices in our heads. Old stuff other people put there, negative thoughts we put there, doubts and other blocks we use to weigh us down and keep ourselves in the “safe” place of “not good enough”.
We’re going to do things a little differently today. We’re going to try an affirmation.
What? Sandra! I thought you hated affirmations! You used to call them wimpy people’s brain pacifiers!
That right, I did. Until I was put into a coma and had to scratch my way out of the body booby-trap. I discovered there are all kinds of tools we can use when we can’t use our bodies -- namely our minds!
For example, when someone is an ass on the train during rush hour I know I’d feel better if I could physically jab them in some way. Not kill them, but give them a good slap. But you can’t do that because it leads to assault charges.
But you can use your mind. Instead of taking physical revenge against someone I now prop myself up with this magical little ditty ...
“I am so fucking awesome.”
Try it yourself! Say it!
“I am so fucking awesome.”
You don’t have to use the f-word if you don’t want to. But it does have a kick to it. And you don’t have to feel particularly awesome, you just have to say it. You can say it out loud or to yourself. But say it. Try to say it about fifty times today.
I know I will. Because I am so fucking awesome.
Sandra O'Day is a transformational expert, ex-con and motivational speaker with an anger management problem. She shares her thoughts and observations with those who love self-help, those who hate self-help and those who love to hate self-help.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Buck Up
I worked really hard today ...
My boss is such a jerk ...
My kids are driving me nuts ...
I am so completely stressed out ...
I deserve a treat! A cookie. A box of candy-covered popcorn. A mocha-frappuccino hazelnut vanilla bean latte with whipped-cream and caramel butterscotch sauce on it.
People, we all deserve treats, but that doesn’t mean we should have them.
But my day was so hard. I’ll feel deprived if I don’t indulge!
Oh, you’ll feel deprived like all those people who don’t live in the top 1% of wealth in the world? Like those people “over there” who don’t have clean drinking water, let alone butterscotch? You’ll feel deprived like they do, and that would be bad, right?
People, we don’t fill ourselves up with treats to keep ourselves happy. We fill ourselves up with treats to help us maintain distance from reality.
Walk down any Main Street into super-mall America and you’re walking into one of the most mass-marketed soul pacifying factories in existence. Banners and signs waving in Red White and Blue that read, “Make today special, try a new super-big cookie with sprinkles.”
Make today truly special, folks. Don’t buy yourself that treat for a change and see where that takes your imagination. Stop pacifying your spirit, set it on fire.
My boss is such a jerk ...
My kids are driving me nuts ...
I am so completely stressed out ...
I deserve a treat! A cookie. A box of candy-covered popcorn. A mocha-frappuccino hazelnut vanilla bean latte with whipped-cream and caramel butterscotch sauce on it.
People, we all deserve treats, but that doesn’t mean we should have them.
But my day was so hard. I’ll feel deprived if I don’t indulge!
Oh, you’ll feel deprived like all those people who don’t live in the top 1% of wealth in the world? Like those people “over there” who don’t have clean drinking water, let alone butterscotch? You’ll feel deprived like they do, and that would be bad, right?
People, we don’t fill ourselves up with treats to keep ourselves happy. We fill ourselves up with treats to help us maintain distance from reality.
Walk down any Main Street into super-mall America and you’re walking into one of the most mass-marketed soul pacifying factories in existence. Banners and signs waving in Red White and Blue that read, “Make today special, try a new super-big cookie with sprinkles.”
Make today truly special, folks. Don’t buy yourself that treat for a change and see where that takes your imagination. Stop pacifying your spirit, set it on fire.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Lesson Learned, Back Off
A couple of weeks ago I was flying to Sarasota, Florida to attend a conference for motivational speakers who have been in comas. Surprisingly, there are more of us than you might think.
As people were boarding the plane a Long Island sounding woman was speaking very loudly on her phone a few rows in front of me. Everyone could hear her conversation as well as smell her hairspray. Clearly she was angry, disappointed and totally feeling screwed over by some guy named Jack. She began screaming, “FUCK YOU, JACK! FUCK YOU, JACK! …” over and over and over.
Now, this was a plane on the way to Florida. Right around Passover and Easter. Smack dab in the middle of Spring Break. So not only were there lots of little kids on board, but there were a whole lot of rich, white-haired grandparents on board traveling with those children. The moment the angry woman started screaming the F-Word I saw seventy tanned, shriveled, Zales brand Cubic Zirconia-laden hands reach for the steward call button. Tennis charm bracelets were tinkling with all the activity and button pushing.
A steward, a pilot and a man wearing dark glasses and a suit were soon standing in the screamer’s aisle. They asked her to apologize to the people around her for her inappropriate language. Sufficiently shamed, she stood, and said, “I’m sorry.” She was clearly mortified.
Immediately following her apology some old biddy with a cross necklace started in with, “You should be! Using that kind of language …” And before she could go any further I stood up and said, “SHE SAID SHE’S SORRY. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TEACH ANYONE A LESSON WE HAVEN'T ALREADY LEARNED HERE TODAY. NOW ORDER YOUR GIN AND TONIC AND ZIP IT.”
She ordered her G&T and we flew to Sarasota without further incident.
As people were boarding the plane a Long Island sounding woman was speaking very loudly on her phone a few rows in front of me. Everyone could hear her conversation as well as smell her hairspray. Clearly she was angry, disappointed and totally feeling screwed over by some guy named Jack. She began screaming, “FUCK YOU, JACK! FUCK YOU, JACK! …” over and over and over.
Now, this was a plane on the way to Florida. Right around Passover and Easter. Smack dab in the middle of Spring Break. So not only were there lots of little kids on board, but there were a whole lot of rich, white-haired grandparents on board traveling with those children. The moment the angry woman started screaming the F-Word I saw seventy tanned, shriveled, Zales brand Cubic Zirconia-laden hands reach for the steward call button. Tennis charm bracelets were tinkling with all the activity and button pushing.
A steward, a pilot and a man wearing dark glasses and a suit were soon standing in the screamer’s aisle. They asked her to apologize to the people around her for her inappropriate language. Sufficiently shamed, she stood, and said, “I’m sorry.” She was clearly mortified.
Immediately following her apology some old biddy with a cross necklace started in with, “You should be! Using that kind of language …” And before she could go any further I stood up and said, “SHE SAID SHE’S SORRY. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TEACH ANYONE A LESSON WE HAVEN'T ALREADY LEARNED HERE TODAY. NOW ORDER YOUR GIN AND TONIC AND ZIP IT.”
She ordered her G&T and we flew to Sarasota without further incident.
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