I've always been interested in language and, more importantly, the power of language. Language is an abstraction. We put words to thoughts, feelings, events, and the things around us constantly. Heck, the English language alone has 172,000 words in use and 47,000 obsolete words.
Language colors our entire experience because we live through our words. Whether you're conversing with someone or you're alone, we're using words constantly. Sometimes they're uplifting and inspiring while at other times they're demeaning or anxiety-producing. We're having an inner conversation or dialogue most of the time and the words we tell ourselves are just as powerful -- if not more powerful -- than the words we say to others.
This is why today's blog post is about the nature of using the word "my". Such a simple word, isn't it? Two letters, lots of implications. The Oxford English Corpus, a collection of texts with two billion words, has "my" as the 34th most used English word. We likely say it to ourselves several times a day ("That's MY pen!" is a common thought I have when my husband tried to borrow one of my good pens).
Of course, "my" is about ownership. When we use the word, we're claiming something as our own -- and that in and of itself is a powerful notion. "My husband," "my house," "my pants," "my job". When we use my, we are saying that those things belong to us. He's my husband and no one else's. This is my house because I bought it. These are my pants because I bought them and I don't want other people wearing them. This is my job, which brings me my income.
Most of the time, there's not much harm in using "my". However, it is fun to play around with using other words to replace it. In fact, using other words to replace "my" can completely change your perceptions. I like to think that we're past the days of thinking that we own people, particularly our spouses. What if, for a short period, you decided to refer to your spouse or partner differently? "My husband" can become "the hubby" or simply ... their name. The same goes with your home. You may own it on paper now, but someone likely owned it before you and someone else will own it after you, so you're really more of a temporary caretaker. When inviting someone over, consider referring to the building as "the house". Or, better yet, come up with a name for your home. My parents have a primary house and a summer cottage, both of which have names. The house is "Moonlit Hill" and the summer house is "Wonder". Personally, I think it's fun to have a name for the home because it adds some character!
If you chose to, a really interesting challenge is to try to go a week without saying "my". You'd be surpised by how mind-warping it is to no longer take ownership of so many things. When you choose to do this, it's like you're handing over the reigns of responsibility in your mind. When "my job" becomes "the job" or "a job", it's like a weight being taken off your shoulders. Clients of mine who are workaholics benefit from this change a lot. The first step in reducing workaholic tendencies is to reduce your ownership. Yes, that may be "your" job at the moment but should you leave or retire or die, the employer will quickly work to fill that position with someone else. It's great to be dedicated and to have a strong work ethic, but not when it gets in the way of living a healthy, happy life. De-owning the job title you're working under by banning "my" from your vocabulary does wonders.
Where "My" Can Be Harmful
As I said above, "my" isn't a particularly harmful word most of the time but there are instances where it should be avoided at all costs.
Health Challenges: This is the most common one I see. People choose to OWN their maladies. Why, I don't know. My guess is that people like to forge unique identities through ownership even if it isn't something they want in their life. This was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. From the ages of 22-30, I had developed a condition called vasovagal syncope. For the first 6 years, I had no name to put to the condition. I had gone to many doctors and specialists and had any number of tests done. The condition was fairly severe and I would have an episode that would look like a seizure, complete with fits. I would usually faint and sweat and be confused. It wasn't pretty. Over time, with no medical term to attach to the condition, I started referring to them as "my spells" or "my seizures". Through language, I decided to own them. I became the condition and the condition became me, or at least that's how it felt. The condition was part and parcel with my identity as a person. In many ways, it defined me.
When you identify so strongly with a malady you're suffering from, it very much becomes a part of you. You own it, you identify with it, and you use the condition as a way to explain yourself to the world.
If you do this with any health condition you're suffering from, stop using "my". Immediately. Ban it. Find any other way to describe the condition to others. If your goal is to be healed of this condition, how do you expect that to happen when it's become such an integral part of who you are? In other words, if the condition were to heal itself, who would you be then?
I practice this a lot with clients who suffer from aches and pains. I notice that people with migraines tend to say "my migraines" a lot. "I can't go to the party tonight because of my migraine" or "Sorry, honey, no sex tonight, my migraine is killing me". One of the first things I get these clients to do is to monitor their use of language. Changing "my migraines are back" to "I feel a migraine coming on" seems like splitting hairs, but in actuality it's a massive shift. When someone uses "my migraines are back" they are accepting that these migraines are a part of them -- they've had them for a long time, they suffer from them now, and they're likely to suffer from them in the future. When someone changes the phrase to "I feel a migraine is coming on," the migraine becomes a temporary visitor. It doesn't change the pain in the moment, necessarily, but it relegates the migraine to what it truly is: a malady that's affecting you now. Moreover, with repeated language monitoring and by banning "my", you're opening yourself up to the possibility to being healed. You're not the migraine anymore and the migraine isn't you.
After many years, I found a physical therapist who was able to tell me about the syncope. He was able to put words to the condition. A definition. A moment of "that's what this is". After receiving treatment, the condition improved greatly. A large part of the improvement came from the medical treatment, but I'd argue that just as much improvement happened because I refused to ever own the condition again. "My spells" became "I'm having a spell" or "I feel a spell coming on" or, when describing the condition to others, I'd use the medical term: "I experience the symptoms of vasovagal syncope."
Traumas (Physical and Mental): The other time I hear clients use "my" in a detrimental way is when referring to traumatic events in their past. A car accident from a decade ago becomes "my accident". Abuse from childhood often becomes "my abusive childhood" or "my abusive father" or "my rape". In these cases, it's equally vital to work on monitoring your use of language. Traumas can affect you for a very long time, indeed, and I don't intend to say that banning "my" is going to heal things immediately. A trauma is a trauma and it takes time to work through. Yet, depersonalizing those experiences by excluding "my" can be powerful. Our traumas often become part of the life stories we tell ourselves.
What if those painful moments could be seen as a chapter of a book? An accident happened and it led to injuries. Absoutely. It happened. We can't go back and change that it happened, even if we wanted to. Even though you may still be dealing with the damage now, the accident was a chapter from years ago. Referring to it as "my accident" constantly brings it into the present. You own the accident. A simple change of word choice: "my accident" to "the accident" is small but powerful. It allows for a little space. Yes, the accident happened. Yes, it was bad. Yes, I'm still dealing with the effects of it. Yet, the accident was in the past. It was a chapter. Don't overlook the power of creating that space. The space is a place where healing can happen.
Watch What You Own
You can choose to monitor your language at any time. If I've learned one thing as a hypnotherapist it's that words are powerful. They carry weight and contain meaning. Even simple changes like monitoring the use of "my" in daily use can be enlightening. What are things that you own with "my" and ask yourself: Would I be better without this? Even silly little things like "my messy house" becoming "the house is messy" takes the onus off of you. Why own things that you don't even want to own?
Lastly, I suggest that you make monitoring language into something fun. It doesn't have to be like a hitman eliminating a word (although that's fun for me to do). Just notice when the word "my" pops up in your life and ask yourself "what is it that I just decided to own?" You'll be surprised how many things you don't even like or want you attach "my" too. "My annoying neighbor," "my plantar fascitis," "my shoulder pain". When you find these things that you want to release ownership from, think about treating them neutrally and gently sweep the word "my" aside. The less you decide to own, the freer you'll feel and the more space you create.
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