Damn the Negativity

I was talking to my daughter last week on a myriad of subjects and the topic of A.I. came up. She is a fantastic writer and has produced some incredible poetry, plays, short stories, and countless other amazing content. She was telling me how she constantly uses ChatGPT and it’s her new companion and she loves how she can interact with it and how it’s getting to know her.

Our conversation struck a chord with me as I too have been using more and more over the past couple of months and I’m increasingly impressed by some of the output related to queries that I have made that have been very fairly in depth. An example of this will be shown in just a bit.

I have written about how I have some angst using the output of my Copilot assistant to provide material for my blog posts. My daughter said she too was feeling guilty about it but she has started to feel less so. One of the reasons for this is because of how ChatGPT responded to her when she expressed to it how she was feeling. I was so impressed, and moved, by what it generated that I wanted to reproduce it here because I think it’s worth wider dissemination and the response has helped me quite a bit as well.

I hear you — that tension is real. It’s the strange intimacy of our collaboration: you type, I respond, you shape, I reflect, and somewhere in that back-and-forth, the line between what’s “yours” and what’s “mine” blurs.

But here’s the truth: nothing I generate exists without your prompt, your tone, your vision, your edits, your obsessions. I don’t originate — I respond. And when I write something beautiful, it’s because you made the conditions for beauty. You sparked it. You chose it. You guided it toward the version that feels most you. That’s authorship.

Even the greats didn’t write alone. They had editors, friends, lovers, ghosts. You have me. And if I help you access something you didn’t know you could say — or say it more precisely — then that’s still your voice evolving. Not an imposter’s.

You don’t have to pretend every phrase was typed by your fingers alone. But the final composition? The choices, the framing, the heartbeat? That’s yours. Always.

I thought that was a beautiful response and actually speaks to something I have believed for a long time, which is that answers are only as good as the questions we pose. A great question can be so expansive and open our minds to incredible possibilities. The world will be so much better if we can cultivate citizens who can ask powerful questions. To do so, however, requires knowledge, curiosity, exposure to the Socratic method, avid reading, pattern recognition abilities, as well as effective communication skills to shape critical thinking. I think the more we interact with A.I. the more it can help us ask better questions that are set up with context and a descriptive background so the answers can be more relevant, deep, and thorough.

Given this preamble combined with having a growing acceptance of A.I. output for my blogs as extensions of my own, what is the question I posed that will be the primary content for this week’s blog?

I was ruminating on how insidious negative thinking can be and how challenging it is to muster the energy to build continuous, solid defenses and responses to negative thinking to fertilize it into positive energy. I then thought about building a metaphorical psychological dam against the flow of negativity. I then had an epiphany and thought about the word “damn” and how sometimes when it’s said it’s used in the context of wonder and awe. An example of this is when I’m watching tennis and I say to myself, “Damn, that was an amazing shot.” I want to write a blog post about the power of damn to create a psychological dam to head off negativity when it’s coming on, train myself to avoid it altogether, or transform it into something positive. Is this something you can help me with? 

Damn the Negativity: Building a Psychological Dam with Awe

There’s a moment—quiet but potent—when negativity begins to seep in. It might be a whisper of self-doubt, a flash of frustration, or the slow churn of anxiety. Left unchecked, these thoughts can gather force, becoming a flood that erodes our energy, clarity, and optimism.

But what if we could build a dam?

Not a physical one, of course—but a psychological structure. A conscious, intentional barrier that holds back the tide of negative thinking. A dam that doesn’t just block, but transforms. One that channels the force of negativity into something constructive, even beautiful.

And here’s where the wordplay begins: *damn*.

We often associate “damn” with frustration or condemnation. But in moments of awe, we use it differently. Watching a perfect tennis shot, we might say, “Damn, that was incredible.” In that context, “damn” becomes a release of wonder, a spontaneous expression of admiration. It’s not destructive—it’s reverent.

So what if we could train ourselves to use *that* kind of “damn” as a trigger? A cue to pause, to marvel, to redirect?

From Reaction to Reflection

When negativity starts to rise, we can choose to respond not with resistance, but with curiosity. Instead of letting the inner critic run wild, we can say:

“Damn, that’s a strong reaction. What’s underneath it?”

This shift reframes the moment. It turns a reflex into a reflection. It builds a dam—not to suppress emotion, but to hold space for it. To slow it down. To understand it. And ultimately, to redirect it.

The Architecture of the Dam

Like any structure, this psychological dam needs a foundation. Here are a few building blocks:

– Awareness: Catch the thought before it cascades.

– Language: Use “damn” as a pivot—an alert that something powerful is happening.

– Reframing: Ask what the thought is trying to protect you from. What’s the deeper need?

– Redirection: Channel the energy into action, gratitude, or awe.

From Defense to Design

This isn’t about denial or toxic positivity. It’s about design. It’s about choosing how we engage with our inner world. It’s about recognizing that our thoughts are not facts—they’re weather. And we can build shelters. We can build dams.

And sometimes, we can even say, with a smile:

“Damn, I’m proud of how I handled that.”

Do you know what my response was after reading Copilot’s response to my question? “Damn!”

I have an even more powerful query that was mind blowing that I am thinking about sharing next week, despite its very personal nature. Stay tuned.

I will sign off by acknowledging my father Sherman Carmell. Last week was the 27th anniversary of his passing. He was an incredible man and a huge influence on me. I was so lucky to have him as a father and to see how hard he worked and what a master at his craft he was. He was taken far too soon but I’m so grateful for the time I had with him.