I’ve been known to take extreme positions: that I would never return to the States once my study abroad semester ended; that I would never love anyone again after my heart was broken the first time; that I would never learn how to parallel park. (All of these examples had equal weight in my mind, by the way. In Pennsylvania you can’t get your license if you can’t parallel park so this was a legitimate problem to have). Great news for me, none of those statements turned out to be true. At the time, though, they felt absolutely certain, partly because that’s the story I told myself.

There’s a reason all of these are youthful examples. As I got older (and went to both graduate school and therapy) I became aware of a little brain trick: adding “right now” or “yet” to the end of sentences. This way, the story we’re telling is not set in stone. It has the capacity to change. We have the capacity to change. For example: I could not, in fact, parallel park before I took my driver’s test but I did eventually learn. So instead of declaring “I can’t parallel park!” I could have simply added that I couldn’t parallel park right now or yet. It’s a small thing that could have taken the pressure off and made me feel hope instead of fear and embarrassment.

So many of us think in extremes. It’s sort of part of our inner monologue sometimes, which makes it very hard to undo just like that. It takes real effort and intention; it means really listening to ourselves and noticing these patterns of thinking and how they effect our choices and actions. Do you tell yourself that every bad thing that is happening will happen to you forever? Or do you allow that whatever you’re feeling or experiencing is temporary?

It’s easy for me to say, on this side of the laptop, and not particularly easy for you to do. I know that. I haven’t totally grown out of this habit, myself. But that’s the gift of life: we get to change and grow and learn. Maybe you can’t see what’s coming next yet; but it is coming. And I hope it’s something wonderful.