Why is it when you’ve been at best booty camp all week and given up gluten and wine and food that starts with c and found the perfect muffin-top-hiding, good-gam-revealing dress and managed to get a blow out that defies humidity and are performing a sexy interpretive dance to Vivaldi and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and instead of seeing this gorgeous goddess (bet Elizabeth Hurley doesn’t even look this good at this age) and all you see is… a bit of spinach in your teeth?
Somehow when presented with nine positives and one negative, the negative thought pushes the positives out of the way faster than a Real Housewife heading to a half-off Botox bar. Business owners dread that one devastating Yelp review more than they appreciate the numerous, “Hey, thought that mango matcha latte was really inventive.” We live in one of the most beautiful places in the world but if we said that people couldn’t complain about traffic in the Hamptons we would silence half the conversations. I saw a young girl riding her bike the other day and instead of thinking how cute, I worried about child abduction. Have I just been watching too many Netflix murder mysteries? Why don’t we gravitate to the good?
Over the years I have had many kind notes and comments about my column, which has won numerous awards. But I still get hate mail. Literally. As in someone takes the time to write a letter and send it to my publication. And that somehow is the one that sticks in my head. I could have sent a letter back saying, “Hey, Neanderthal — get with the times and ditch the snail mail. I bet you don’t even know how to use an emoji!” I then would sign off with a squinting face with tongue, flexed bicep, safety vest.
I was speaking with an artist who relayed the story of a brutal and insulting review, yet instead of burning it with a lot of sage and pig’s blood she incorporated it into a book on her work to show it for what it was — one angry person’s pot shot. She decided to create a file on her computer to counterprogram the negativity and call it the “Yeah me!” file. She took the time to keep every kind and complimentary and thankful email and saved it there to remind her of her work’s value and positive impact and would open it whenever she was about to be consumed by a negative comment.
I mused about the propensity of the human brain to obsess over things that make us angry or feel unjust instead of the nice person that lets us out of our driveway in traffic or warns you as you are entering the party. “Hey, you remind me of Elizabeth Hurley but you have just a bit of spinach in your teeth.”
I consulted my wise woman yogi friend who always seems so wonderfully calm on this issue and she explained that we are still hard wired in our DNA. Even though there are delicious berries everywhere we are still aware of the one poisonous one which can kill us. This same mechanism can be at work in relationships where we breeze over the lovely gestures which show your partner cares from putting large lettering on the shampoo and conditioner so you know which is which in the shower without your glasses to starting your car on a cold morning to knowing not to ask how was your day when you are eating ice cream right out of the carton and just cleans the kitchen and quietly backs out of the room. And yet we all remember the time they really pissed us off, and bring it up, often. The trick, like the berries is to know which one is just a little sour and which one is deadly, sort of like when he was working late and forgot about salsa dance class versus having an affair with the couples’ counselor.
So whether it is the Yeah Me! file or the Yeah You! file, we are in need of finding a way to circumnavigate our brain chemistry and tap into the positive aspects of ourselves, our experiences and our relationships and move them to front of mind.
