Changing Your Language Can Change Your Perspective on Painful Situations

The following is adapted from Finding Hope.

After I placed my son for adoption, I went through a years-long spiral of self-destructive behavior. I put myself in dangerous situations, and there were days that I was so depressed, I couldn’t drag myself out of bed. I partied to the point of sickness, wondering, “If anything happens to me, would anybody notice?” I lost sight of who I was, and I drowned myself in sorrow. 

The main catalyst for all that pain was the fact that I didn’t know how to handle the grief, pain, and guilt that went along with my adoption decision. I told myself that I was a bad person and that I didn’t deserve joy. 

One morning, my roommate Giana confronted me about my behavior, and she told me something that changed my course. She said, “You’re allowed to feel pain when it comes to what happened—that pain is BIG and it’s YOURS. And it’s okay. But you’re also allowed to feel light. We all see it in you, but you’ve got to see it for yourself.”

Since then, I’ve turned my life around. I have a loving fiancé, a successful career, and a family that loves and supports me. It wasn’t a quick transition, and it’s still an ongoing process, but thanks to Giana, I learned that loving myself was possible. She pushed me toward a light I hadn’t known existed. 

One of the major things I’ve learned on my journey is that the language we use for ourselves has a huge impact on how we handle painful situations. If you find yourself stuck in a loop, where you find yourself fixating on how bad, stressful, or painful things are, then these tips might help you shift your perspective. They just might push you back toward the light. 

Get Rid of the Mini-Funerals

Since my son was born, I’d had so many little funerals in my mind. A funeral for losing my son. A funeral for never having kids again. A funeral for never having a husband or a wife. A funeral for all the Christmases, all the soccer games, all the hand holding—all the life I just didn’t see myself having. I didn’t think I deserved it.

After years of this reel of mini-funerals playing in my head, that one conversation with Giana flipped a switch in me. I had light? I didn’t yet see the beauty in myself, but for the first time—the first time—I thought it may be possible.

If other people, like Giana, saw light in me, then there was a path forward. I didn’t love myself, but I could at least stop punishing myself for everything. Instead of attending a series of daily funerals, I could remember that my son was loved and happy, that he was going to have an amazing life with an amazing woman, that I could still be a part of his life, thanks to our open adoption agreement. 

 Many times in life, we focus on pain and sadness. That’s natural, and whatever grief you feel is okay. But it’s impossible to live in grief daily. I had to learn that nothing was “dead,” and my life didn’t need to be spent in mourning. If you find yourself in a similar loop of sadness, I suggest ditching the funerals. Tell yourself that instead of pain, you should be seeking light. It sounds simplistic, but it’s far from simple. It will help though, I promise. 

Affirm Yourself and Acknowledge the Pain

Today, I know that I don’t have it all figured out, but I’m definitely worthy of goodness. I’ve had the tools around me the whole time but didn’t realize it. We are all like that to some degree. We know what it takes to get healthy, but we don’t do it. We know we should walk away from a bad relationship or friendship, but it’s easier to stay. 

Sometimes, when you can’t see past your own problems, changing your mindset is the only way to move past those blocks and believe that you are worthy. My son’s mother bought me affirmation cards, which I kept in my car. One card said, “I’m safe. It is only change,” and the other said, “I’m beautiful, and everyone loves me.” I read those cards over and over. At first it was almost laughable—I didn’t believe either of those things for one second. 

After I said them enough times, though, the phrases started to seep into my being. I began to believe in the law of attraction. I’d spent too long telling myself, I placed my son for adoption. I’m a drug addict. I don’t deserve happiness. This pain is what has been coming to me. And, lo and behold, that’s what happened. When I changed my language, I started to change my life.

Now, I think, It’s okay to feel sad, and I am a good person. I say those things all the time—in the mirror in the bathroom, driving—anywhere and everywhere. If I don’t take those little steps, I can feel a negativity coming over me. I can feel a big fight coming with those I love. To ward it off, I make an effort to show gratitude. If I think, My son is no longer with me, I will tell myself, My son is not with me—that’s true. But he is alive, and he is healthy.

In the past, I was filled with such terrible feelings—heartache, depression, anger. Then, I’d feel guilty for having those feelings in the first place because I put myself in every situation that instigated them. I didn’t think I had the right to vent about something I’d been a party to, because I was the one who placed my son for adoption in the first place. When I realized it wasn’t complaining but rather acknowledging that my pain was real and valid, doors opened—including the door to love.

Take Your Time and Learn from Others

Greeting the world as a happy person didn’t turn me into a happy person overnight. I’ve always struggled with depression. After my son, it got worse, and my desire to deal with it shrunk. All told, it took five years of faking it until it clicked—maybe more. Slowly, I climbed out of my hole. I excelled at my new job.

One of the big boosters was listening to advice—really listening. I went to events. I listened to podcasts. I read a ton of books. I took inspiration from other people, and I realized that the process was going to take time. 

Thanks to all that work, patience, and wisdom, I stopped seeing myself as irrevocably broken. Today, I’m still broken, but I see those cracks as opportunities. When I think about my light, I think about my potential—about all the things I can do, not all I have to do just to make it by.

Realize that You Have a Choice

Today, in my light, I know my boundaries. I know what I need, and I’m vocal about it. There’s nothing wrong with that. I know when to say what I’m feeling. Those affirmation cards that used to be in my car are on my desk, reminding me. I have a vision board, reminding me. I have an alarm that goes off every day at 11:11, saying, “Would you follow yourself for success with what you achieved today?” It, too, reminds me—I have ownership of my life, today and every day.

Before I found my light, I looked at life like a series of transactions. I was living for the next high, the next week- end, the next guy to hang out with, the next city. After I stopped faking being happy and actually allowed myself to feel that, I realized I had a choice all along. That’s some- times the hardest realization to come by—that you have a choice. I discovered I didn’t have to make bad choices to feel better—that having pride in myself felt pretty damn good, too. I finally knew that my making a bad choice every now and then didn’t make me a bad person.

Accept that You Will Falter Sometimes

It’s not like I snapped my fingers and was suddenly fixed, though. In fact, sometimes I crave the darkness when I get stressed, and I have to fight like hell. While writing my book, I visited friends and chose to leave the social event a few days early because I knew I may be presented with situations where I might not be able to say no. That was huge for me.

When that feeling strikes, I have to tell myself I am safe, successful, and have a great life; even if those things might not feel true, I have to speak them into existence. Then, I have to take actions in line with them.

It’s not just my language that’s changed; it’s my outlook. When I think about who I am today and what I have gone through to get here, I am proud. That’s a newer feeling for me. I wake up focusing on my light and my potential. I am confident that the person I was four years ago would never believe she is the person I am today. I’m living proof that language can help pull you out of the darkness, just as easily as it can drag you into it. 

For more advice on handling difficult situations, you can find Finding Hope on Amazon.

After placing her newborn son for adoption in 2013, Hope O Baker struggled with depression, addiction, and overcoming the stigma that surrounds birthmothers. In her first book, Finding Hope: A Birthmother’s Journey Into the Light, she shares her story of a successful, open adoption—and all the heartache and light that came along the way. Hope is a passionate advocate for those on all sides of adoption. You can find her online at HopeOBaker.com or follow her on Instagram at @HopeOBaker. Hope visits her son regularly, and she currently lives with her loving partner and her wonderful stepkids.