And I have to work so hard at talking positively to myself. If I

Hear the vulnerable and powerful confession of Delta Burke: “And I have to work so hard at talking positively to myself. If I don’t, it’s just real hard to get through the day, and I’ll get really down, and just want to cry. My whole body language changes. I get more slumped over.” These words are a mirror to the inner battle that so many fight in silence—the struggle not with enemies outside, but with the voice that lives within. They are a reminder that the greatest victories of the spirit are often won not on the battlefield, but in the hidden chambers of the mind.

To speak positively to oneself is no simple thing. The mind, left unchecked, is like a wild horse, charging toward despair, magnifying every weakness, rehearsing every failure. But to guide it toward gentleness, to whisper encouragement where it would shout condemnation—that is an act of courage and discipline. Burke reveals the truth that positivity is not always natural, but something that must be worked at, cultivated like a fragile flame against the winds of doubt.

The ancients knew this struggle well. The Stoics taught the discipline of inner dialogue, urging that a man must master his thoughts if he is to master his life. The psalmist spoke of “encouraging himself in the Lord,” turning inward to strengthen his heart when all external supports had failed. The Buddha taught that the mind is both the source of suffering and the path to liberation. Delta Burke’s words stand within this eternal tradition: the way we speak to ourselves shapes our reality, even bending the body under the weight of despair or lifting it upright with hope.

Indeed, she tells us that without self-kindness, the whole being suffers—the spirit wants to cry, the posture collapses, the body reflects the defeat of the mind. History offers us many examples of this truth. Consider Winston Churchill, who battled the “black dog” of depression. Even in his darkest hours, he learned to wrestle with his thoughts, to cultivate language of resilience that allowed him to rise and rally his nation. His example shows that while inner shadows are real, they need not dictate the course of life if met with determined self-encouragement.

The wisdom here is not only personal, but universal. If we cannot master how we speak to ourselves, then no amount of external praise will save us. But if we can learn to speak positively, even when no one else does, then we carry within us a wellspring that no drought can dry. Words are seeds, and when we plant them in our own minds, they grow into the posture of our bodies, the strength of our actions, and the resilience of our days.

The lesson for us is clear: the voice within must be trained to be a friend, not a foe. Do not wait for the world to lift you up; lift yourself first with words of kindness and strength. Speak to yourself as you would to a beloved child or a cherished friend. For if your inner language is harsh, your days will be heavy. But if your inner language is kind, even burdens become bearable, and your body will rise to reflect the hope within.

Practical steps flow from this wisdom. Begin each morning with affirmations, speaking words of encouragement aloud, however small. When failure comes, resist the instinct to condemn yourself; instead, say, “I am learning, I am growing.” Notice your body language—when you slump, straighten your back, for posture itself can remind the mind of strength. Write down positive truths about yourself, and return to them when shadows loom. In time, you will train your inner voice to echo hope more readily than despair.

So remember Delta Burke’s teaching: “I have to work so hard at talking positively to myself.” Take it as both warning and encouragement. The battle within is real, and it is daily. But the one who learns to speak to themselves with compassion will endure the storms of life with a straighter back, a lighter spirit, and a heart that does not collapse into tears but rises with courage, ready to face another day.