When I was younger, a teenager to be exact, I used to read Chicken Soup For The Soul books like they were going out of style. Each book had a better story than the last one. Each book made my heart swell with good feelings, and positive thoughts.
I think I had close to 30 of these books.
They were the air I breathed, and the life I wanted.
Even if the stories were sad, I knew they ended well.
I especially loved it when I could relate to the stories.
The stories in these books allowed me to day dream all day long.
When I first started feeling blue (depressed) I would get angry at these stories.
The deeper my depression went, the angrier I got.
I remember packing up all of my books, and taking them to a book store, trying to sell them or trade them in for store credit. The store owner said the books had no value, and he wouldn't even take them because they were hard to re-sell, they were a gimmick. I agreed with him wholeheartedly, and I was still upset he wouldn't take these books off my hands.
I don't remember what I did with the books.
They were either donated to the Goodwill or thrown away (I do hope they were donated)
The stories in the books angered me because they were not my stories after all.
My stories didn't seem to have a happy ending.
My stories didn't make my life better, more positive, more exciting.
I didn't gain any friends after reading the friendship book.
Positive thinking was not for me.
In my teenage angst, I declared positive thinking bullsh*t, and never did it again.
Not for a long time.
Here I am today.
I am learning positive self-talk.
I am learning self-care.
I am learning not to quit.
I am learning that a Pinterest board can be helpful, but I do have urges to delete my Inspirational Quotes one, because sometimes I call bullsh*t on it too.
I have learned that I have to call bullsh*t on my negative talk.
It doesn't just affect me anymore. It never has. I just never knew it.
*I want to clarify that that books themselves are great, and I'm sure one day I will find the courage to read them again.
**I apologize for the overuse of the word bullsh*t, but it was the only one that fit.