Habits, Life, Self help

Hello Me, It’s Me.

It’s tough watching your friends beat themselves up with their shoulds and shouldn’ts, running the circular track of their patterns.

I’m sure I do it to. I’m trying to stop it, so here I am.

“I’m grocery shopping by myself on a Saturday night,” one complained. “It’s so pathetic.”

How is it pathetic, I think. It’s just grocery shopping. Who cares when it is? Do you know how many moms would love the opportunity to shop sans kids on any night?

But it means something to her, symbolically. There is a dialogue going on in her head that only makes sense to her; entire conversations on how lame her life is. 

For some reason it struck me. I guess because it seemed ridiculous to me, so what do I say to myself that, if said out loud to others, would seem just as pointless?

What am I telling myself that keeps me running the same loop? And what’s the payoff? If I keep doing the same things, I must get some type of benefit. I think it’s time to really start listening to my inner-me-chatter. I think maybe it’s time for that bitch to go.

Habits, Self help

I Don’t Need A Hug, I Need To Run Laps

Most of the self-help out there is crap. I know because I write some of it. 

Motivational posts, writings on wellbeing, bringing “balance” to your life (I just had to spell check “balance”, that shows much of it I don’t have).

I suppose it must work for some, or maybe not at all since it’s a huge industry and people keep consuming more of it looking for answers. 

Every day it’s a struggle for me. There are only so many hours in the day, so it’s not about balance, my day is about priorities. And never mind about support. My husband will do something if I chase him down about it, but that’s more in the nagging genre.

I have been self-helping for 20 years, and it hasn’t changed me much. My fault, you say. Maybe. But I am who I am.

However, I may have found an ally. Have you heard of Gary John Bishop? I bought one of his audiobooks, mostly because I liked the cover – I’m a sucker for tattoos. One morning commute I found myself laughing as he was yelling in his thick Scottish accent “You’re going to die! Everyone dies! That’s it!”

This is someone I could get behind. 

I don’t want to analyze my relationship with food, or someone to tell me to explore my childhood, or to meditate. I need an ass kick and someone to tell me to knock it off. 

I don’t need therapy. I need a drill sergeant.