Pollyanna Week: it's harder than it sounds, so I'm wearing a reminder bracelet.

Well, this morning I broke Pollyanna Week (the week in which I was going to make no criticism) before 8:00 a.m.

The Big Man was going to take the Big Girl to school, so the four of us were happily sitting together until it was time for them to leave.

Then the Little Girl started pointing to her mouth, in what we thought was a cute way, until she started making gagging noises. It took me right back to the Big Girl’s period of car-sickness.

“Quick, get a towel, she’s going to throw up!” I yelled.

The Big Girl darted into the kitchen, but she still hadn’t emerged when the Little Girl began heaving half-digested milk all over herself, me, and the furniture.

“Big Man, get a towel!” He’d been sitting, mesmerized by the sight.

By the time they both rushed back from the kitchen with dish towels, the Little Girl had finished throwing up, and she and I were wallowing in a big, yucky mess.

“Team, that was not the fastest action we could’ve had,” I said in an aggrieved tone.

But why did I throw out a nasty comment? It just added to the general loss of morale without making any useful point.

By the time I returned from giving the Little Girl a bath and changing my own clothes, the others had left for school.

When the Big Man called after drop-off to get a report, I was able to be very positive: the Little Girl was perfectly cheery now, they’d done a great job of cleaning the furniture, it was very lucky that he’d been around this morning to help. But at the critical moment, I had reverted to criticism.

Last night I did a better job, largely because I was so tired that I went to bed at 9:00 p.m. Being asleep is a great way to avoid being critical.

But I faced this question: when I said to the Big Man, “I’m so exhausted that I’m going to bed now,” was that a complaint? Or just a statement of fact? I think it counts as a complaint. I should’ve found a positive way to phrase it: “Going to bed sounds so great to me that I think I’m going to turn out the light early.”

Another temptation to be critical is what might be called affiliative criticism. When a friend said, “My sister refuses to go visit my aunt in the hospital. She says she’s too busy, but she just took a two-week vacation. She could go for one day,” my impulse join in with something like, “Some people use work as an excuse to get out of doing whatever they don’t want to do.”

But just in time, I caught myself and said, “Your aunt must have really appreciated the fact that you took the time to visit.” Now that I consider that exchange, I think that my friend was probably (perhaps unconsciously) trying to steer the conversation to a validation of her own efforts rather than to a criticism of her sister’s behavior. So being positive did make the conversation generally more satisfying.

One of the problem with Pollyanna Week is just remembering to stay on my guard, to watch what I say. So this morning I put on a clunky orange bracelet. My hope is that it will be a constant reminder of my goal.

Comments

[Cara]

Hang in there! I like the orange bracelet idea. I'll have to find something similar.

I've often wondered what people would talk about if they didn't complain or criticize. My parents and my husband can all complain for 20-30 minutes straight (yes, I've timed them!) and I find it weirdly fascinating.

[Natalie]

Hello Gretchen! I recently discovered your site and I applaud your efforts in examining the various components and dynamics of happiness. I'm learning along with you and plan to participate in your "Pollyanna Week". Thank you for sharing your exploration with all of us.

[Sharyn]

I stumbled on your blog about a month ago, probably through some search related to organizing. It's a wonderful blog - you are doing what I call "putting good into the world". Your thoughts and habits at times seem eerily familiar - I have my own ten commandments. Trait Transference brought to my mind the childhood refrain "I am rubber, you are glue - what you say bounces off of me and sticks to you"! It also made me think of my personal reminder of "garbage in/garbage out", which comes from how I try to be mindful of how important my mouth is. I use it as a reminder to try to stay away from junk food (garbage in) and to be mindful of what I say (garbage out). Weird, maybe, but it helps me. It is, however, Candy Corn Season, and I have recently indulged!

[Kelly]

My good friend has a phrase she uses on her husband,"I'm not complaining, I'm just explaining!" It's become a joke now.
I liked your idea of even while explaining to turn things around to express the positive side.

[Kent Blumberg]

I tried to avoid criticism for one day (Monday) - and couldn't make it one hour. Man this is hard!

[StephanieWestAllen]

I am wondering if you know about the study that indicated that people who are critical are considered more intelligent than those who are positive? Linked to at the end of this post:

http://westallen.typepad.com/idealawg/2006/10/a_new_edition_o.html

You have a nice blog and concept!

[Gretchen Rubin]

Good luck everyone with Pollyanna Week! It's terrifying how hard it is.

Thanks SO MUCH for the link to the study about how critical people were rated as more intelligent that positive people. I'm going to go read the entire study. But it certainly comports with everyday feelings. Somehow, people who criticize a book, movie,other people's behavior, etc., seem more thoughtful and insightful. But when you think about it--it takes so much more courage and wisdom to embrace something (or at least refrain from criticism) than to find fault with it.

[Sophie]

Just a gentle reminder that Pollyanna sighs, complains, and makes critical remarks throughout the book. "I happened to think how I hated to see my freckles in the looking-glass" is the reason she gives for being glad she doesn't have a mirror. She says to someone with dark hair, "Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it." She protests that all the lessons Polly plans for her won't give her time to live. And here's the speech that results in her removal from the attic to a nicer room: "Oh, we'd had two rugs in the barrels, but they were little, you know, and one had ink spots, and the other holes; and there never were only those two pictures; the one fath--I mean the good one we sold, and the bad one that broke. Of course if it hadn't been for all that I shouldn't have wanted them so - pretty things, I mean..."

Her strength is her ability to pull herself back from complaining through the Glad Game.