There’s not just the negative thinking loop; there’s also the negative conversation loop. It’s when you find yourself caught in an endless, and deeply negative loop of conversation with another person. Talking and talking about the same situation without change or resolution. And it’s just as torturous as a loop within your own head. So try this …
We were talking
It was the weekend (finally); a bright, beautiful Saturday morning, and we were sitting on the garden bench, sipping our coffees, talking quietly. It all sounds so idyllic. Except we weren’t talking about nice things.
We were having the same conversation that we’d been having for months. My dad’s final stage cancer, his medication, how much weight he was losing, what to cook for him next because both his menu and his appetite just kept getting smaller and smaller.
And as conversations do, it shape-shifted into other not-so-nice things, like bills that needed to be paid, our toxic society, the fucked-up state of the world, all the mundane chores and tasks and adulting that had to be done, how little time there was to do it all.
But I’d had enough
Seriously enough. Enough of talking in circles, endless, endless circles around gloomy topics. I’d had enough of feeling overwhelmed, enough of feeling small and messed up and unable to deal with it all. It was just too much. And talking was only making it worse.
So I decided out loud that for the rest of the weekend we were only going to talk about sunshine and roses and rainbows and unicorns. But half an hour later we were back on the same gloomy subjects.
And then the strangest thing happened …
“Uh-uh,” I said, “we promised that we were only going to talk about sunshine and roses and rainbows and unicorns … and maybe even enter into an intense discussion about the colour of unicorn poo.”
“Do unicorns poo?” he asked, playing along.
“They definitely do.” I replied, deadpan but still imagining a perfectly coiffed pile of multi-coloured goo that wouldn’t look out of place on top of a child’s birthday cake.
“That must be lucky poo.”
“Very fuckin’ lucky poo. Like, if a bird poops on you and it’s good luck, can you imagine how lucky it would be if a unicorn pooped on you?”
“You’d win the lotto.”
The conversation was so ridiculous we had to laugh at ourselves. And it was the first time we’d laughed in weeks.
The dark clouds lifted
That dumbass conversation totally lightened the moment, it lifted the dark clouds. Our intense focus on something light, no matter how stupid it was, shifted something within the both of us. And suddenly we were laughing at the antics of our dogs playing around us. Suddenly everything they did was hilarious. Suddenly everything was beautiful.
I gazed up and noticed a flock of starlings watching us from the phone lines. Then the swallows came and swooped around us. The entire garden seemed to thrive around us. Life was everywhere. It always had been … we just hadn’t noticed it.
The rest of the weekend danced into an even lighter week. Although nothing in my daily reality had changed, I had shifted. My perspective had changed. And I’m learning that sometimes that’s what matters most.
Because hey, we’ll always have unicorn poo
From now on, when times are dark, I try to think about unicorn poo. At the very least I feel a smile tugging at my lips and I know things will get better. That things won’t always be so dark. Because hey, we’ll always have unicorn poo.
Author’s note: it’s been several years since I wrote this piece and weirdly enough, we still talk about unicorn poo … it’s a thing, it somehow stuck. You know, like pastel-coloured gum at the bottom of your shoe. Because it worked. This bizarre distraction from negative conversation loops still works. And I still feel that smile tugging at my lips when we turn to each other and say, “Let’s talk about unicorn poo!” Try it! I hope it works for you too.
