self-help

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A new self-help diagnosis

Monday, January 19th, 2009

What’s holding you back? 

Why aren’t you achieving all you wanted to achieve? 

Why are you stuck in a job you hate or around people you hate or with the teensiest bit of pasta sauce on one side of your mouth that you only ever realise is there after you’ve got home?

Why aren’t you consistent, except for the fact that you are consistently inconsistent?

santorinisunset

Self-help gurus will tell you that you have emotional blocks.  That something in your childhood, your genes, or your magazine rack, has told you in a profound way that change is bad, or that you’re not worthy of what your little heart desires.

They’ll tell you that you need to go back in time and reconcile your inner brat with the hapless adult you’ve become.  Perhaps you need some free time, some ‘me time’, or a candle.  Fill out a worksheet and figure out where your limiting beliefs come from so that you can reframe them in a newer, smarter, pissweaker context.

Granted, some people do have mental illnesses and/or have been through genuinely harrowing things that they’ve never fully recovered from.  In which case, of course, I wouldn’t recommend seeking help from Dr Phil or Deepak – but someone who’s qualified in more than wearing powder under hot lights.

But one factor – one vital thing – that the book-writers, the seminar-runners and the Oprah-appearerers never, ever seem to address is the thing is my main problem.  So in the name of self-help, I’m going to share it with you now:

Hello, my name is Keira and…  I. Am. BONE. LAZY.

I look for any excuse not to do things.  If I try something and then fail at it, I’ll say “Well, clearly I’m no good at this, but I’m really good at watching TV…”

When presented with the choice between watching TV shows and going for a walk, the DVDs will start singing their theme songs at me – and who can resist the stirring tones of The West Wing?

Lazy

This is not a fear of failure.  It’s a fear of having to work my arse off.

I won’t pitch my story ideas, for example, not because I’m afraid they’ll be rejected, but because I’m afraid they’ll say, “Yeah, can I have it by Friday?”

I don’t apply for new jobs because I’m afraid I’ll get them.  I’m really good at job interviews - compared to auditions, job interviews are a friendly chat.  And then if I wind up with a new job, I’ll have to learn new things and, worse still, do them.  Heaven forbid.

If I do manage to drag myself from the computer or TV to exercise for five minutes, I’ll do weights to avoid cardio. Or yoga to avoid weights.  Or Wii to avoid leaving the house.

I will go to extreme lengths to avoid anything I don’t want to do.  In high school, I did 4 unit science to avoid going into too much depth in physics and chemistry.   It was an extreme measure because my school didn’t even offer the subject.  My friends and I begged and begged our teachers to custom-make the class for us.  Talk about extremely nerdy to the power of x.

It was the perfect crime because, to anyone who doesn’t know any better, “4 unit science” sounded more impressive (It’s not. You replace all the really hard bits of phys and chem with Geology for Dummies).

Zzzzzzz...I play the world like a hand of Texas Hold ‘em – I bluff.  And I bluff - not because of some childhood trauma or because I haven’t inhaled enough lavender - because I just cannot be arsed.

What’s more, I’m pretty certain I’m not alone.  Watch any talk-show or self-help seminar.  You’ll see a few people with actual dire circumstances and abhorrent upbringings to overcome. But for every one of them, there are droves of people just looking for excuses. 

These are people who want a really profound reason why they can’t stop eating Cheetos, why they keep dating jerks, and why they spend all their money on scarves and ottomans.

Why?  I’ll tell you why.  Because you’re too damn lazy to make a change.  Take it from one who knows!

Then again, what would I know?  You think I research?

Purpose – it’s that little flame…

Monday, September 1st, 2008

The musical Avenue Q expresses it perfectly – especially in the song I Wish I Could Go Back to College:

“I’d sit in the quad, and think, ‘Oh my God,
I’m totally gonna go far!’ (oh whoa oh oh oh oh…)”

I have no wish to go back to uni.  No, I’m thinking much further back than that – like, 10 years old.

I remember lying atop a brick fence looking up at the sky and thinking I had a secret formula that someday would make everything I touch turn to awesome.  And “then they’ll see!”

I didn’t know what this formula was (or who ‘they’ were supposed to be), but I believed in it.  It’s so much easier to believe that glory awaits you when you’re at the age where you can look at the future and see miles and miles ahead of you, yet feel no responsibility to have already done something worthwhile.

But when you’re older and you see people your own age (and younger) popping up as brilliant musicians, worldclass athletes, award-winning actors, best-selling novelists… well, it’s easy to start questioning what you’re doing with this one shot you get at life.  And if you’re like me, you start wondering if that secret formula you always took for granted is actually going to emerge out of the white noise after all…

…or if this is, as Jack Nicholson tells the people in the shrink’s waiting room, ”as good as it gets”.

Contentment, or even joy, isn’t that hard to find.  Eating great food with friends, smelling the first burst of spring flowers in the air, discovering a top TV show (for me it’s Weeds at the moment), remembering somebody’s funny turn of phrase… But, for some of us at least, purpose – that feeling that you’re going somewhere for a reason that you’ve set out (or, as Avenue Q would have it, “that little flame that lights a fire under your a$$…”) - is a lot tougher to come by.

So how do you find a sense of purpose?  Where does it come from?

The more spiritual types might say that purpose comes from a life spent serving others.  This sounds very noble and maybe even a formula for a utopian society.

It also sounds pretty much the opposite of what everyone else tells you.

For example, some self-help/life-coach gurus may say that you find purpose via goal-setting.  Decide what you want, figure out steps to get there and then single-mindedly go for it.  It’s about putting your best foot forward, making your dreams come true, building ’You Incorporated’.

Just by chance...Your dreams might involve other people, but they’re all a means to an end – they’re there to facilitate your happiness, your fulfilment, your career path – your purpose is ultimately for you.  Or so part of the self-help quadrant would lead you to believe.

They persist with this line, telling you that if you look after yourself first, only then will you be equipped to look after others.  But at what point do you know that you’ve looked after yourself sufficiently?  What’s the me-time quota?  Do you really get a choice in the matter?

Once, in a conversation at work on unplanned buns-in-ovens (you know, the ones that start with ”there must be something in the water…”), someone said, “Sometimes these things have to happen by accident or else we’d never do them!”

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon ‘em – is it the same for purpose?

Is purpose something that just hits you one day as the result of living?  The unplanned-bun-in-oven is one example – people are forced to grow up fast and not just live for themselves anymore.  Which is interesting when you recall the “purpose is serving others” school of thought…

Is a sense of purpose something that you’re born with?  I’m sure natural ability or tendency has something to do with how easily a sense of purpose comes to you.  If you’re a super fast swimmer and, despite being good at other things, you kick serious ar$e at swimming, then I reckon there’s a good chance you’ll find a sense of purpose in it.

Or is it a case of… work hard and a purpose will come to you?

I want a purpose - I really, really do.  And I like to think I’ve worked pretty hard in my time in a whole bunch of areas.  Yet, no one thing stands out to me – no shining light or neon arrow or even a spray-painted ‘X’ has marked the spot and said “you should do this“.

Well, except for one thing… at times like these, it is nice to go back to being that 10-year-old watching the clouds, believing that, someday, everything I touch will turn to awesome.