I have a love-hate relationship with self help books. I've read them all. I can feel the fear and do it anyway, win friends and influence people or have seven habits. I can calm my monkey mind, I know where my cheese is and I can hold my clutter and ask if it sparks joy. I want to improve myself. It seems important but it's so irritating. So many sentences start with. "Ask yourself..." and if I had the answers I wouldn't be reading the books.
The books firmly warn about the critical inner voice but I wonder if it is there for a reason. If the little voice that puts you down is pointless then why is it so persistent? My current read, called 'You've got this' which I read in the voice of a 20 something black woman from South London (don't ask, I don't know) is very critical of my critical inner voice, so I've been trying.
I was determined that I wasn't going to let my mind say anything negative about myself all day. One day had to be possible, surely?
Morning break. First warm day of the year. Children wildly overly excited, bringing woodlice to see me, licking their hands clean of satsuma juice before holding my hand to take me to show me where a bee is on the ground. Two girls, desperate to be chosen to ring the bell, barely leave my side. After 10 minutes one of them starts a conversation that isn't, 'Can I ring the bell?'
Girl: You've cut your hair,
Me: I've had it cut, yes,
Girl: Hmmm
Me: .......
Girl: It doesn't look as bad as it did before.
Me: Oh.
Girl: I suppose.
Me: .....
Girl: Less knotty. It should be less knotty. Easier to brush.
I told my colleague and she said, 'Oh children. They have no filter. They just can't help telling the truth.'
Come back my own critical inner voice. I think I preferred you. You didn't care about my hair.
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