THIS WEEK I’M…
Bernardine went one step further and created ‘mood boards’ – visual representations of what it might look and feel like to win the prestigious literary prize. Fast forward a few years, and she did indeed win the Booker. Not only that, but she was the first black woman to do so.
Although this was a fascinating story, I’m unconvinced about the power of manifestation. For every winner of every prize, there must surely be losers who have not been successful in willing their own dreams into reality. I have tried looking at myself in the mirror while chanting various positive mantras designed to make me feel calm, successful and energised. But all they end up making me feel is a bit silly, like a Poundland version of Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver spouting,
‘You talkin’ to me?’
But I still think there are useful things to learn here about the way we talk to ourselves. Often, we are our own worst critics, allowing our internal narratives to be skewed by harsh thoughts and negative responses. How many times have you failed to parallel park your car and told yourself you’re a terrible driver? How many times have you forgotten a phone charger on a work trip and berated yourself for your stupidity? How many times have you turned up late at the school gates and allowed your inner critic to lambast you for being an awful parent?
And yet, if our best friend or our closest sibling did any of these things, we wouldn’t use the same language, would we? We’d be supportive and understanding and perhaps we’d tease them a bit, but we’d surround them with love and point out all the things they do right until they felt better about themselves. Why do we treat ourselves with less respect than we would our loved ones?
Over the past few weeks, I have