Stop Yelling at Yourself
You deserve kindness
My little guy Sammy was the Sheltiest Sheltie in Sheltietown. He was fluffy, cute, loved running in circles (to round up sheep, of course), was an anxious aardvark, and barked.
At.
EVERYTHING.
Other dogs barking in the next apartment? Bark. People talking within a mile of the front door? INTRUDER ALERT. Bark. Literally nothing happening at all but Mom is holding a very full cup of hot coffee? SINGLE EAR-PIERCING YAP.
I loved that dog, but sweet mother of Balto, his bark turned me into a rage demon. Early in my dog parenthood, I yelled at him to get him to stop barking. It usually went like this:
Sam: SCREAM BARK
Me: NO!
Sam: BARK!
Me: BAD DOG!
Sam: BARK BARK!
Me: I SAID NO!
Sam: BARK BARK BARK!
Looking back, I think Sammy thought I was barking at him, so he barked back. Such a fun game! (Reader, it was not.)
It was not effective training.
I was trying for what’s called positive punishment, which means I’m adding a punishment to change a behavior. Positive reinforcement is a much better too for changing behavior. Why? Well, let’s unpack it.
Let’s say I want you to give me a ride to the store. If I tell you I’m going to hit you if you don’t give me a ride, you may give me that ride to protect yourself from harm, but then you’re going to stay as far away from me as possible in the future, in order to avoid violence.
On the other hand, if I offer to watch your kids for an hour in exchange for that ride, you’re not only going to give me the ride, but you’re also going to be interested in giving me rides in the future, because you could really use a babysitter.
In the first example, you’ve learned that interacting with me is dangerous and I should be avoided. In the second, you’ve learned that interacting with me may get both our needs met, and I can be trusted. In both situations, you’ve learned something, which is what reward and punishment are all about.
What happens when you use punishment to change your own behavior? Allow me to introduce you to a human, Emma. Emma has a really hard time doing her dishes. She’s trying the punishment strategy of motivating herself: you’re so disgusting. No wonder you’re alone, you can’t even do something as simple as dishes. Everything about you is gross and no one will ever love you.
Guess how Emma feels now? Worse. Way worse, actually, and also hopeless, defeated, and ashamed. Do you think she’s motivated to clean now? Nope. Those punishing thoughts have activated her pain avoidance, so she’s going to try to numb out those awful thoughts with sleep, the Internet, or a substance that will make the feelings stop.
Punishment isn’t effective in motivating a person (or a dog), but reward is. Let’s take it back to Sammy.
About a year in, I realized barking at my dog wasn’t working. Instead, I needed to reinforce the behavior I did want. First, I made sure Sam was good at coming when called. Then, I identified his barking triggers: people, squirrels, other dogs, car engines, cats, maybe ghosts? Next, as soon as I heard his trigger, I said very loudly, “Come here, Sammy!” When he came to me, he got lots of pets and love, and promptly forgot his trigger. Maybe he barked once, maybe he grunted like a frustrated pig for a few seconds, but he didn’t lose his mind - and neither did I. After a couple of weeks of practicing this, Sammy did something new: when he heard his triggers, he came running to me for scratches. VICTORY.
Through reinforcement, I taught Sam a behavior more compelling than barking: coming to Mom for butt scratches.
So if yelling at my dog wasn’t an effective behavior change strategy, but giving him love was, then what does that mean about how you talk to yourself?
Let’s check back in with Emma. Maybe washing her entire sink of dishes is too overwhelming. Maybe all she can manage right now is one bowl. That’s cool. It’s something, which is better than nothing. First, Emma is going to say something kind to herself. It can be as simple as, I deserve kindness. Then she’s going to think about washing this bowl as kindness: I’m washing this dish as a gift to myself.
Next time she goes to the kitchen, she’ll grab a spoon, scrub, and rinse. Boom. Done. Now she’s going to say another kind thing to herself, like, I did it! I washed a dish. I did a good job. She has now reinforced her own behavior, and a part of her brain has learned that she will teach it with love and kindness.
Maybe you noticed that Emma rewarded herself with words, not a treat. While it’s common to reward dogs with food, it’s not recommended to use food as a reward or punishment for yourself. Sometimes I hear people say, “I deserve this brownie,” or “I really earned this frappe.” You don’t have to earn food; it’s a right. When you reward yourself with food, it changes your emotional relationship with it in ways that often aren’t healthy. So while I may reward my dogs with a piece of kibble, I reward myself with a kind word or crossing an item off my to do list (I really love crossing things off lists).
Back to our friend Emma. Next time the trigger (washing dishes) comes up, Emma will feel a little less overwhelmed and a little more capable. And because she experienced both kindness and success the first time she tried to wash a dish (because she started at the beginning), she’s also more likely to wash two. She’s chipping away at the feeling that washing dishes is a punishment, and replacing it with the experience that washing dishes is self-care.
What it comes down to is this: you deserve kindness. Give yourself that kindness when doing hard things, and you will cut the suffering in half.