“Look how fat you’ve gotten.”

“You’re ugly now.”

“How could you do something so stupid?”

“What a failure you are.”

“I can’t stand to look at you.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“You deserve what you’ve gotten.”

“No one cares what you have to say.”

Pretty harsh.

But in truth, this is how many of us women over 50 talk to ourselves. I know, because I’ve uttered a few of these statements myself on tough days.

 

 

I was chatting with my stepmother recently about negative self-talk. About how it’s a product of our societal programming, and how deeply that programming goes.

If you have ever said any of those or similar statements to yourself, then, my friend, you are practicing negative self-talk.

Think about that; practicing.

When we practice, we are trying to get better at something. Learning a language or a craft, having good posture, standing up for ourselves in a conversation.

Why then would we practice something so negative?

And it is just what it sounds like: negative.

It doesn’t help you develop positive self-esteem, confidence, or joy. It doesn’t help you learn to love yourself.

And most of all, it isn’t true.

We were taught to do this.

The answer is that we practice negative self-talk because we were taught to. By every societal message that held us to an impossible standard of youth, success, relationships, and beauty.

Our own loved ones may have unknowingly (hopefully) taught us some of these values, because they themselves were programmed from a young age.

Women in general have been taught that it is not ok to fail, that they must live up to societal expectations, that they must care for everyone but themselves, and that they must do it all in a size 4.

And above all, they should not grow older.

To hell with that.

If you’ve been reading my posts for a while now, you’ve probably heard me say, “If you wouldn’t say it to your daughter or your granddaughter, why would you say it to yourself? You deserve kindness just as much!”

And that’s great now, but how do we put this into real practice?

How do we make real changes that stick?

How do we stop talking to ourselves like the most cruel person we know?

How do we show ourselves the kindness we deserve, and learn to love that person we see in the mirror, no matter what?

And maybe the hardest thing, how do we catch ourselves while we’re doing it?

Because for a lot of us it is so second nature, it seems normal.

First, notice it.

The first step is simply to notice it.

Not judge yourself for doing it. Not add another layer of criticism by thinking, Great, now I’m terrible at positive thinking too.

Just notice.

Maybe you’re getting dressed and catch yourself thinking, God, I look old.

Maybe you forget an appointment and immediately think, What is wrong with me?

Maybe you see a photograph of yourself and instead of seeing the woman who was laughing with her friends, or holding her grandchild, or standing in front of the ocean on a beautiful day, your eyes immediately go to your stomach or your wrinkles or your arms.

Stop.

Listen to what you just said.

And then ask yourself one simple question:

Would I say that to someone I love?

Because chances are, you wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t look at your daughter after she gained 20 pounds and say, “Wow, you’ve really let yourself go.”

You wouldn’t tell your best friend who made a mistake, “What a failure you are.”

You wouldn’t look at your granddaughter and say, “You better enjoy being pretty now because someday no one is going to care what you look like.”

At least I hope you wouldn’t.

So why do we think it’s acceptable to say those things to ourselves?

Start questioning the voice.

Once you begin catching negative self-talk, get curious about it.

Where did that thought come from?

Who taught you that gaining weight made you less worthy?

Who decided wrinkles were something to be ashamed of?

Who told you that being divorced, single, childless, retired, broke, successful, unsuccessful, 60, 70, or 80 made you somehow less than?

Who told you it was too late?

And here’s another question I think we need to ask ourselves more often:

Is this actually something I believe, or is it something I was taught to believe?

Those are not the same thing.

Sometimes when you start pulling on that thread, you realize you’ve been carrying around someone else’s beliefs for decades.

A parent’s.

A husband’s.

A boyfriend’s.

A teacher’s.

A magazine editor’s.

An advertiser’s.

An entire culture’s.

And maybe you don’t want them anymore.

You don’t have to replace every negative thought with sunshine and rainbows.

This is important.

If you stand in front of the mirror after years of criticizing your body and suddenly announce, I am the most beautiful woman in the world!, your brain may very politely respond:

Yeah, right.

You don’t have to jump from cruelty to complete adoration overnight.

Start with kindness.

Instead of:

I hate my body.

Try:

This body has carried me through 58 years of life. I’m going to treat it with kindness today.

Instead of:

I’m such an idiot.

Try:

I made a mistake. People make mistakes. What can I do differently next time?

Instead of:

I’m too old to do that.

Try:

Why exactly can’t I do that?

That’s one of my favorites.

Because sometimes there really is a reason we shouldn’t do something. My knees might have a few opinions about me becoming a competitive gymnast at this point.

But a surprising number of the things we tell ourselves we “can’t” do have absolutely nothing to do with our actual abilities.

They’re just rules we’ve absorbed about what women our age are supposed to do.

Wear.

Want.

Dream about.

Begin.

To hell with those rules, too.

Talk back.

Seriously.

You are allowed to argue with the voice in your head.

When it says, Who do you think you are?

Answer it.

I’m someone who wants to try.

When it says, You’re going to embarrass yourself.

Maybe. I’ll survive.

When it says, You’re too old.

Says who?

When it says, Nobody cares what you have to say.

I care what I have to say.

That last one matters.

We have spent so much of our lives looking outside ourselves for permission, approval and validation that sometimes we forget we are allowed to give those things to ourselves.

And then we practice.

Remember that word from the beginning?

Practice?

If we’ve spent 30, 40, 50 years practicing negative self-talk, we’re probably not going to undo it in an afternoon.

So we practice something different.

We practice catching ourselves.

We practice questioning the thought.

We practice replacing cruelty with kindness.

We practice looking in the mirror and noticing the whole woman instead of cataloguing her flaws.

We practice saying, I’m proud of myself.

We practice accepting compliments without immediately explaining why they’re wrong.

We practice wearing the thing.

Taking the photo.

Speaking up.

Trying again.

Changing our minds.

Starting over.

Taking up space.

And slowly, the new voice gets stronger.

Maybe someday you look at a photograph and your first thought isn’t about your thighs.

Maybe you screw something up and laugh instead of calling yourself stupid.

Maybe you look in the mirror and see the wrinkles around your eyes and remember how much laughing it took to put them there.

Maybe you start realizing that the woman looking back at you isn’t someone who needs fixing.

She’s someone you need to get to know again.

And maybe even love.

Because here’s what I know for sure:

We aren’t going to build the next chapter of our lives while constantly tearing down the woman who has to live it.

And there is still a next chapter.

Whether you’re 52, 67, or 84.

One of the things I believe more strongly all the time is that the middle isn’t an age. It’s the part where the story is still being written.

If it’s not the end, you’re still in the middle.

And if you’re still in the middle, you deserve to spend it with someone who is on your side.

Especially when that someone is you.

So the next time you hear that voice say something cruel, catch it.

Question it.

And then try saying something different.

You might be surprised how much can change when the woman inside your head finally becomes your friend instead of your enemy.

You are not too old. You are not too late. And you are most definitely not done.

I think the formatting makes your original opening much stronger—the short lines give those cruel statements some weight, and “To hell with that.” gets the pause it deserves. I also love how practice now acts almost like a thread running from the beginning all the way through the solution at the end.

Want more tips on thriving after 50? Sign up for my newsletter and join our community of empowered women on Facebook and Instagram!

Feel free to share this post with others!

Also visit my Freebies page, where everything is… well, free!

Back to the Blog for more great articles!