THE POWER OF POSITIVE THOUGHT

castleWhen I was a little girl I believed in fairy tales.  Good triumphed over evil and everyone lived happily ever after.  Then when I started being bullied at school for being fat my castle started sinking into the moat and I realized that I would have to do something to stop myself becoming sad.  At first I became the bully as a way of defence.  I was still sad.  I kept reading my fairy tales and living in a fantasy world of fiction until I started to identify with the underdog of every story.  And I wanted so badly to help the underdog, who I understood to be myself.  So it was then that I first started giving myself pep talks.

mkThese days I believe it’s called meditation.  Although generally thought to be a calm piece of time for reflection, my mediation is generally nothing of the sort.  If I’m feeling the stress or am at a very low ebb, I turn up the volume on my problem and fixate on it.  And whilst doing that it generally helps me to focus better with an upbeat song played LOUD in the background.  I imagine myself overcoming the problem.   Sometimes I’ll listen to Martin Luther King just for the passion and the will in his voice.   And although my struggle is different, the end is the same.   I become my own preacher.  You CAN!  This WILL work!

And growing as a person all the time, I thought at each junction “Now this is when I needed the positivity.”  When I got divorced I thought “Yes.  This is when I need it.”  When my beautiful son was diagnosed with autism then I thought “It must be now?”  When I was made bankrupt, “Now?”  When my son was diagnosed with stage four cancer, “Surely now?”  Yes.  Resoundingly yes.  Now.  Seeing my child wheeled down the stark corridor of nuclear medicine.  Watching him intently having all of his scans, I would fixate on him and mediate.  Over and over.  “Come on Charlie, come on Charlie.  You can do this!  You can do this.”  Tapping my foot to the beat of the music I was listening to (he was sedated), chanting to the rhythm under my breath.  I could have lit up the hospital with the energy I found in myself.  And I willed it into that child.  Every.  Single.  Day.  Because I went into the hospital with him oak-treeknowing I would be bringing him out with me.  And everyone thought I was crazy.  Everyone.  He very nearly died three times along the way.  Once he was unconscious and slipping down the rabbit hole and I laid my hands on him, felt the heat, and spoke to him, calmly but positively and within five minutes he sat up.  The second time doctors had told me they were going to stop giving him the four different blood products that they had been giving him every day for the last three weeks and that I should prepare myself for his inevitable death.  That night again I put on my music, talked to myself until I was at a certain frequency then laid my hands on his sleeping body I whispered to him that he must not leave me.  That he must heal.  And do you know that in the morning that same doctor came to me and said that this was the first morning he had seen any improvement.

So sometimes meditation or visualization or pep talks can be noisy, chaotic, urgent.  But needless to say if I wasn’t convinced before about the power of positive thought than I am now.  Not only it is character building, it is life saving.   Vital to how you and yours sit in the world.  Every day I am inspired by other people.  And every day I look to music, art, literature, the environment around me and the good people are doing and there is always a scrap of positive even on the grimmest of days.   At the moment my Charlie remains clear of his cancer and I have changed our lifestyles to heal his body with nutrition and natural therapies.  Every day is a day for learning more.   But positivity abounds and yes, I do have a dream.  Because in life, bad things happen.  And how you deal with it has bearing on the outcome.   Now I no longer think my castle is sinking.  I see it standing like the oak of a tree against the storms of the seasons.  Standing sharon woollystrong against the trials of our lives.

Guest Post from Sharon Woolley

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