No matter how social we are, most of the talking we do is with ourselves. And when we talk with ourselves, we teach ourselves how to think.
If the idea of self-talk implies self-teaching, what idea leads to learning?
A word meaning 'learning' is the origin of the two words 'disciple' and 'discipline.' A disciple is one who learns, and a discipline is a learning, a subject area. Normally, though, we think of discipline as self-control.
Here we get to the meat of the subject: self-discipline is self-control, yes. But more than self-control, discipline is how a person learns.
The idea of discipline can evoke images of drill sergeants yelling at recruits. Teachers putting dunce caps on misbehaving students. People who’ve messed up saying to themselves, "Bad boy. Aren't you ever going to learn? Straighten up and fly right."
These approaches assume that we are stubborn mules. We need to be whipped into shape. If we could have done it right on our own, we would have. We are misfits, mistakes.
Does self-criticism really help us control ourselves, or does it only cause us to act more like the stubborn mules we keep assuming we are?
Consider saying something like this: “You deserve the rewards of a job well done. Do the right thing, because that's the kind of person you are.”
Discipline that encourages instead of tearing down teaches us to strive to be better.
We do have to be critical when we make mistakes, so we stay honest. Still, even this learning through poor choices can be framed more productively; instead of saying, "Get it together - quit messing up," we could say, "You're better than that" or "show them what you're really made of."
And when making poor choices or mistakes, we still want to highlight the things we did right. Positive accomplishments might even turn out to be strengths we can exploit to overcome our faults.
For example, if people are telling us we're boring when we speak or write, we could notice times when everyone was paying attention, and then do more of that - who cares if it was something we said about a "stupid" mistake of ours, such as when I was a teenager and backed over a fire hydrant because I got in a hurry. Water came shooting out everywhere, an old man hand-watering his lawn lost his water pressure, ending up with a limp hose in his hand, gave me the evil eye and called the police, and I ended up with a conviction for "Failure to control a vehicle at 5 mph."
Maybe that "stupid" mistake of mine was just the comic relief the audience - you - needed to hear. I could have lived the rest of my life driving scared and ashamed - probably increasing my chances of a wreck by slowing everyone down or at least increasing my chances of torquing off other drivers. I might have never driven again, because of the way people laughed at me and my accident every time I disclosed it. Instead, with the help of my teenage friends I learned to see the humor in my humanity. I haven't run over a fire hydrant since.
Is tearing down really more effective discipline than building up? Which is more effective teaching and learning? Which view of ourselves do we want to create in our brains: that we're better than our faults, or that our mistakes and wrongheaded choices define us?
Do we want to become a person who rubs in the bad in ourselves and others until we and the people around us feel numb from the same poisonous nagging and snippy snapping that has spread all over our society? Or do we want to become a person who praises the good, nurtures it, grows it until it becomes a habit, infectious, maybe even a social movement?
Do we want to be destructive or constructive?
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