• 13 Dec, 2025 *

Growing up, my mother had a habit that, at the time, drove us all slightly mad. Whenever things went wrong — big or small — she would fall back on what felt like an unshakable belief in the power of positive thinking. It didn’t matter whether the problem was scraped knees, exam nerves, or something far more serious; her answer was always the same. Mindset matters.

As children, we were pummelled with it. Not physically, of course — but verbally, persistently, relentlessly. “Change how you think,” she’d say. “Your thoughts shape your world.” At the time, it sounded simplistic. Even naïve. Life, after all, has a habit of ignoring good intentions.

And yet, years later, I find myself quietly agreeing with her.

Not because positive thinking magically fixes things. It doesn’t. But because the way we frame our experiences influences the choices we make next — often without us realising it. The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that mindset works in the background. It doesn’t shout. It nudges.

When things go wrong now, I notice a difference. Instead of immediately spiralling into worst-case thinking, I pause. That pause changes what follows. Maybe I try again. Maybe I rest instead of forcing progress. Maybe I speak more kindly to myself than I once would have. None of that guarantees better outcomes — but it often leads to better decisions.

That’s why the idea of learning to release positive thinking resonates with me more now than it ever did in childhood. It’s not about plastering optimism over difficulty. It’s about letting go of the internal narratives that quietly sabotage us: this will never work, why bother, I already know how this ends.

Psychology backs up much of this intuition. Cognitive research consistently shows that thought patterns influence behaviour, motivation, and resilience — not because thoughts control reality, but because they shape how we respond to it: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Positive_psychology

Looking back, my mother wasn’t claiming that thinking positively would solve everything. She was teaching us — perhaps clumsily — that we weren’t powerless passengers in our own lives. We had influence. Perspective. Choice.

It took me a long time to understand that lesson. But now, quietly and without fanfare, I carry it with me. And this time, I don’t roll my eyes.