How to Stop Negative Thinking
Oh, I forgot the punctuation. I meant: How to Stop Negative Thinking?
No, seriously. Please tell me. Because, for me, it’s been over 40 years of pondering on what’s not working, what I don’t have, the worst-case-scenario, the crabgrass is always scratchier on this side of the fence, snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory, and the glass not only being half empty, but the rim’s also dirty.
I have a natural propensity for this, but it’s okay. I’ve learned to work with it. So the trick is to stop wanting to stop. I’ve embraced my negativity — sort of. I embrace it, but only in the way you embrace an aunt who’s overweight with too much perfume and pinches your cheeks and asks what grade you’re in. You hug, but it's not the time of your life.
A little backstory... My junior high school was a regional school. So when I entered seventh grade, I met kids from three other towns. I went from knowing everyone to feeling like I knew no one. All the kids I hung around with in sixth grade suddenly were two halls, four classrooms, and an ocean away.
I didn’t know how to fit in. What would you tell a kid that felt that way? Just be yourself. Right?
Well, I didn’t think that way. I was insecure and thought I had to put on some persona. A mask to put on in homeroom, that I’d only take off when I was back in the comfort of my home.
Right around then, unbeknownst to my parents, I joined the Columbia Record and Tape Club. For just 99¢, I received 10 records in the mail.
Here’s the Billboard Top 10 for my 7th grade year:
Olivia Newton-John, “Physical”
Survivor, “Eye of the Tiger”
Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, “I Love Rock ‘n Roll”
Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder, “Ebony and Ivory”
The J. Geils Band, “Centerfold”
The Human League, “Don’t You Want Me”
John Cougar, “Jack & Diane”
John Cougar, “Hurts So Good”
Steve Miller Band, “Abracadabra”
Chicago, “Hard to Say I’m Sorry”
I didn’t order any of these. Here’s a partial list of my 10 club records:
Cheech & Chong, “Let’s Make a New Dope Deal”
Eddie Murphy, “Comedian”
Richard Pryor, “Live on the Sunset Strip”
Richard Pryor, “Here and Now”
George Carlin, “Class Clown”
George Carlin, “Carlin on Campus”
And probably AC/DC Highway to Hell
I hid these under my bed where my mother wouldn’t find them. I’d sneak downstairs after everyone was asleep, slip on headphones, and listen to Richard Pryor run the funniest, foulest mouth I could have imagined at twelve years old.
And I heard George Carlin spit out his world view. His reflection on politics, language, religion and human nature was sarcastic, acerbic and dark.
I didn’t think of him in those terms—I just thought he was funny and smart.
Like...
Now, just to change the subject a little bit, do you realize, do you realize that right this second, right now, somewhere around the world some guy is getting ready to kill himself. Isn’t that great? Isn’t that great? Did you ever stop and think about that kind of shit? I do. It’s fun, and it’s interesting and it’s true. Right this second some guy is getting ready to bite the big bazooka. Because statistics show that every year a million people commit suicide. A million. That’s 2800 a day. That’s one every 30 seconds [checks his watch]
There goes another guy. And I say guy, I say guy because men are four times more likely than women to commit suicide. Even though women attempt it more. So men are better at it. That’s something else you gals will want to be working on. Well, if you want to be truly equal, you’re going to have to start taking your own lives in greater numbers.
Wow. My mother 100% found him offensive. (Though she’d still prefer him to that Highway to Hell album)
But for me, something clicked. He talked like I felt. My wiring operated on fear, anxiety and anger. This guy? THIS WAS MY GUY.
So I didn’t tell anyone my plan, but one morning I went into junior high—and started ripping Carlin off.
Now, I don’t know if anyone thought I was funny. But back then, I thought they thought I was funny. Good enough for me and my insecurity.
And soon, what started as passing off straight rips from George’s albums as my own thoughts, morphed into my own little riffs and rants.
I don’t remember any of them today, but most sentences started with something like, “Oh, please! Who does this asshole think he’s fooling?!”
Or “Yeah, right, I’m sure these [insert 1980s authority figure] bastards have our best fucking interest at heart. Fucking jerks.”
I spouted off my negative takes like monkeys sling feces. I’d entertain my cousins, my friends, and family. They laughed--maybe at me and not with me, but screw it--they laughed. And this self-soothing darkness went on for decades.
Then one day, something happened to me. I was at a restaurant job, complaining to co-workers about an annoying guest. Some lying, deceitful, ugly American with a gigantic sense of entitlement who broke my balls about seating them on the too-cold patio.
I was mid-rant: “God forbid that egomaniac should stoop to shiver in this sixty-fucking-five degree weather. It's people like that...”
It suddenly hit me...
Holy shit. This isn’t George Carlin anymore. This is me. I’m not imitating or cribbing. I really think like this. I really hate people, hate life, hate myself.
Uh oh.
I let anger, annoyance and anxiety run through me most of my life. It was my battery, my juice. And where had it gotten me? I certainly wasn’t some successful mogul who’d beaten the world at its own game. I’d let my life become small and scary, where I felt everyone had an angle and everyone was out to screw me out of my last nickel.
But knowing I was in this mind trap wasn’t enough to stop it. The negative thinking was now a deep groove in my Columbia record. One I couldn’t pull the needle out of.
So how to stop negative thinking? Beats the shit out of me. It’s my go-to move. When something like this COVID-19 hits, my brain says, “Yep. Of course this is happening. And do you think these [insert current authority figure] bastards care?”
So what can I tell you today that’s helpful?
Well, I spent about ten years trying to figure out the origin of the negative thinking, to no avail. Was it upbringing? Did I learn this behavior from someone? Was I just an asshole?
I stopped wondering. It doesn’t matter. I was only trying to figure it out because I’d been looking to blame someone. Blaming someone was my non-acceptance. I wished I wasn't like this, so I went on an archaeological dig into my past to point a finger at somebody or some incident that caused this misery. Not helpful.
So for the next ten years after that, I’ve been working with the negativity. Here’s what tools I have today:
Meditation. Meditation helps separate my identity from my thoughts. Instead of “I’m a negative bastard”, I can step back and say “this is what a negative thought feels like”. Sounds like a small adjustment, but it's huge. When I’m not so closely identifying with my thoughts, it's transformative. Thoughts are just happening, and that’s okay. My mind makes thoughts like my mouth salivates. It's what it does. Blaming it for functioning makes no sense.
Hey, listen, I said it helps, but it’s a day at a time. Some days are better than others. On bad days, I get right in the mud and I AM the negative thoughts. So I need all the tools I can get...
My gratitude list. Daily, I come up with four things I’m grateful for, and I try not to repeat the items. Finding new things to be grateful for is a good antidote. “Hey, yeah. Grateful for clean water! Clean water rocks!”
Family and friends. Often, spending time with them feels like contrary action. When I’m feeling angry, scared, or anxious, the last thing I want to do is hop on Zoom for a round of one-bedroom-apartment-hide-and-seek with friends. But nine out of ten times, I feel better the next day.
Journaling. Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way calls these Morning Pages. What an amazing tool. I can dump all of my negative thoughts out on the page and get my mind cleared for more productive things—all before six a.m.! My journal’s like the world’s most battered therapist. The stuff it has to endure...
Listen, my recovery from negative thinking has been a long process. Because it worked for a time—I was a skinny, insecure kid who was looking for a way to fit in. Sarcasm, making fun of people, and negative thinking got me through. Today, I’m a skinny, insecure adult who still may have days where it feels like that behavior works, but then has an incredible emotional hangover afterwards.
So I practice positivity—hell, some days I only get to neutral-tivity - I think of a violin player practicing scales. The practice affords me the best opportunity to have a good day. Some days I’m successful. Others, no matter how much I practice, the violin sounds like a cat getting skinned alive.
What about you? Any tools for a positive day? Any hard-wired brain patterns you’re coping with? I'd love to hear about them below in the comments.
If you got nothing, just tell me about your Columbia Record and Tapes. Unless you’re under thirty. Then let’s see that Spotify playlist. :)