I’m in the process of doing Alan Moore’s BBC Maestro class on writing, being a writer, and worshipping snake gods. Just kidding about the last part. I think. One of the things Moore does to me every time I interact with any of his work is reignite my love of language and history. I’m going to talk about both, but only in the metaphorical sense. I’m going to talk about how my inner language has affected my personal history.’

I was never taught how to talk to myself. I imagine most of us weren’t. What we say to ourselves is both learned and experienced into us. Some of it may even be hardwired into us by brain chemistry and genetics. And it can even be the society or culture you’re raised in.

I was raised in a quiet household. At least mostly. When you’re an only child, not a whole lot of conversation happening. My parents usually spoke to correct or complain. If I wanted affirmation or affection, I had to be hurt or do well in school. Neither of my parents knew how to express positive emotions. My father didn’t tell me he loved me until I was 30. And my mother was trapped in a cycle of addiction and abuse from my dad. So silence was preferable to the yelling.

I could detail my life, but by the time I got to adulthood, I had a very negative way of talking to myself. There was no successes, ever. Nothing was ever good enough. Those inner voices, fueled by trauma, family, society, and the people who were supposed to love me, left me with no belief in myself, no faith in my ability to do anything. All my reasons for doign things were external, not internal.

It was the language I was using. Moore reminded me of the power of the Word. The Gospel of John says, in the beginning was the Word. The Words you say to yourself create your reality. And I’m now taking action to change my Words.

I’m ignoring the voices, slowly. I call them brain weasels. They’re slick slimy and awful. They say the worst things. Think you can say things to hurt me? Get in line. You have nothing that can wound me, only if you’re important to me. And most of you aren’t, sorry.

Positive words. Affirmations. For a guy raised on Stuart on SNL and crap like Hazelden and twelve steps, it all seemed a joke. But recently, after this trainwreck of a year, I started looking into it. Looking at it as rewiring the pathways. Yeah, its a construction project like I-94, and just as messy. But its getting better. And I have people who say the positive, and dont use it just to sweeten the bitter medicine of their own narcissism and negativity. I’m not talking Barney level garbage, but belief in my own power and love for me. And just for me being me.

Try it. Get up tomorrow morning, do some stretching. (Words +movement= double strength reinforcement. Go look up Steven Barnes.) Say things like “I love myself” and “I am enough.” It’s amazing what it will do for you. And you deserve to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And that’s all I have. Good night.