Do you know how great the Self-Help genre is? … And other thoughts.

Guys,

I’d love to tell you that I’ve been crazy productive in the past year, and everything in my previous ‘Everything is TEMPORARY’ post has completely shifted. Ha ha, I can’t. A lot of things are different, but a lot of things are the same. That’s how life works out most of the time, right? I wanted to get back into blogging because I still want to show discipline and I want something I can excel at – even just for me – and my friends are right: Writing is cathartic. In a way. It also leaves me biting my nails and wondering if anyone cares at all about my crazy ass rants. Maybe. You seem to have stuck with me through this paragraph – good on you. Kudos.

Anyways, I just wanted to maybe update you on some of the fun things that are going on in my life, some things I want to plan and just stay positive. People with anxiety have problems really living in the ‘now’ and totally forget all the good shit they have going on, and focus on the future (and if you get the added bonus of depression, the past as well). It’s something I’m still struggling to work on, but I can say that I’ve been a lot more receptive to reading self improvement books and psychology books actually talking about what the fuck my head is trying to make me into – like when I suddenly remember my 5th grade pseudo-boyfriend and I at 2:30 AM. It’s helping. Really. It is! Guys, I swear! I always thought it was bullshit to read self affirming garbage that tells you things you already know. It’s like listening to your mother telling you you’re special and he didn’t deserve you anyways. Guys, I am such a convert. Self improvement (self-help) books, or at least the ones I’ve been carefully selecting due to their creative use of swearwords on their covers, are AWESOME. I love affirmations. I’m going to tell myself I’m BRIGHT, I’m BRILLIANT, and I’m BEAUTIFUL every fucking day for the rest of my life. I’ll try posing like wonder woman in the bathroom of the doctor’s office when I have to ask for a second opinion, why not? You want me to post sticky notes on my door telling myself ‘I love me’? You fucking got it.

The best thing about these audio books, kindle read-a-longs and good ol’ fashioned hardcovers is that if you get annoyed with the positivity that it is trying to bring to your world, you just close the fucking thing and wallow, my friend. No one is stopping you. You don’t have to upset your mom or your friend by side-eyeing their compliments and wonderful advice to better yourself because it’s your own personal journey. You can skip chapters, you can read one line over and over. If you don’t like the advice, who cares? Certainly not the author, they probably have an awesome podcast to record right that second anyways. No seriously, there are so many self help podcasts out there too.

I think the stigma behind reading books focused on your own mental wellness needs to disappear. Everyone I know could use a little help. My dad, the most neurotypical guy in my family (not saying much) was in the car with me the other day and I swear to you I gasped because he was road raging so hard. Keep in mind that this man is used to all kinds of driving, has never been in an accident (aside from accidentally hitting my mom’s car in a parking lot when she unexpectedly braked on time) and is an all around good driver. Sure, he used to show signs of annoyance when a car would drive up the shoulder of a road to get 3 spots ahead in traffic (my most hated driving pet peeve, seriously don’t do that), but who doesn’t have those small things? The other day he was swearing up a storm, HONKING (unheard of in my family) and flipping off people who were trying to honestly drive the best they could in traffic. I tried to kind of joke around with him about him being a little out of line, because that’s how we talk about feelings, but it was when I really told him that this behaviour was gross and ‘not him’ that he opened up. The amount of stress and hardship that he and his wife are under right now feels like a bombardment on all sides. He’s trying to retire and his work isn’t prepping the way it should when they need to replace an Operations Manager. The kids are all fucked up. Every little thing feels like a knife and he doesn’t really have a way to release that… Queue the honking and the yelling.

Everyone has that. They have anger or sadness or confusion that they don’t know how to work out and god forbid they talk to a psychologist. The cost, let alone tge stigma in society keeps a lot of people away. Talking to someone in your family can only take you so far, especially when they themselves don’t know how to help you. Do you know how many times I’ve had friend’s open up to me, only for me to say ‘no, I feel exactly the same’ and then turning stare at them sadly as if to say, ‘what do we do now?’ We’re all in the same place. Know what can help? Reading about tools to make yourself better. Tiny tricks that come from a third party who is so enthusiastic about your bettering yourself with THEIR tiny tricks that they practically use 75 exclamation marks a chapter.The amount I have learned and reminded myself and internalized from these books and audio books and (sometimes stolen) kindle books is so important to me. With the help of self-help books (… what a sentence) and, I would say, a healthy dose of female authored autobiographies and essays, I have felt way more confident in my voice and my body in the past year. I would go so far to say that 2015 me would say that 2016 ain’t doing so bad, despite the unemployment. I’m vocalizing things like an adult – to other adults! For my own benefit. That’s huge.

I know self-help isn’t going to help everyone with every issue. I know that there’s a bunch of books that are a load of crap. I was just impressed that I could find five that actually looked like they were written in a way that was fun, not condescending and helpful. I don’t know, it’s just something to look into, guys. Not every book is ‘get happier in 30 days or less.’ Some just reflect on the nature of introverts and the power of using your own strengths for you. Not to make money, not to be guaranteed to be happier, but to live your life as a human. Maybe the real results is the journey along the way. (Sorry, I’ve been on tumblr for too long)

I want to mention that I also slipped in the autobiographies and essays written by females because I really felt as though it has provided me with a lot of perspective. I’m not alone. Tina Fey was a dork and Amy Poehler can’t sleep at night. Allie Brosh has depressive swings miles deep that can be fixed with corn under the fridge, and sometimes, Monica Heisey has more to say about food dips than any other topic. None of these things are bad. They make these ladies human. In the same way, my ridiculous little habits and crazy mental state makes me human and it’s good to remember that talented people like them aren’t so different from me. You know… aside from the acclaim and attention. It was news to me that not all autobiographies are about all the drinking and partying they did with models, is what I’m trying to get at. Not everyone snorted coke with Keith Richards. I mean, I assume a lot of people have, but not enough that the entire biographies section in your local bookstore would have that chapter featured, you get me?  My advice to you guys is to just find authors that appeal to something in you that maybe have some life experiences that you can relate to. I relate to funny women who write with a lot of wit and sarcasm. I also like politicians and young women who greatly influence the world’s perspective on something so difficult to discuss as education. Some people just want to relate to Keith Richards for some reason. Just check out that section, is what I’m saying. It’s not all bad… or biographies of dead American presidents.

So this was hopefully a primer for you on what’s to come. Who knows if it’s going to be another year before I post. I certainly do not. I hope you enjoyed what’s here already. Don’t forget to be awesome.

 

 

On being scared & talking to strangers

annairenel, DeviantArt

Hey everyone,

I want to start challenging myself more to accomplish something daily, Eleanor Roosevelt style. Too long have I stared at my to-do lists with a slight frown, noting at the end of the day that nothing was accomplished because I got stuck staring at cute illustrations on Tumblr. I mean, to avoid applying for new jobs and learning French, I have started reading fan fiction again for the first time in about 10 years. When I don’t want to go to the gym (a to-do list staple), I reason with myself that my dog deserves my attention and I should go for a walk with her instead; I end up staring at her from my bed while I shovel another spoonful of Nutella into my mouth. I am that person. I am the girl who complains that nothing is happening in her life, but proceeds to do nothing to fix that. I sit and stare at my many many lists of lofty dreams and achievable goals and refuse to budge on any of them. I am so tired of being that person. I’m sure many people who read this feel the same way. Life is passing you by, and you want to jump in and prove yourself by accomplishing something big (or small, who cares at this point), but instead you stand by the shore and just keep warily eyeing the current. Is that a mixed metaphor?

Last night, I decided to be an adult – kind of – and make a phone call to the volunteer coordinator of a project I was kind of interested in working on. He had emailed me the day before, saying that we should talk on the phone and figure out exactly how I could help catalogue thousands of animation cells and movie memorabilia that he was planning on selling off for the benefit of a national health organization. I maturely put the call off for one day because I hate phone calls, and the idea of having a spontaneous interview for a volunteer position scared me a bit. It sounded like something that could give me a foundational knowledge of classification and, at the very least, something to say in a job interview when they asked for ‘archival experience’. It was a long shot, but hey, helping someone put some movie posters from his garage up for sale might just be a good jumping point.

When I called, I was expecting a semi-old, semi-senile old man who wanted to gather his belongings up and maybe sell them for a few hundred dollars. What I got instead was an animation instructor from a local art school who had lent his collection out for exhibitions, and once for a party at Disney, who was going to produce an art sale and donate thousands to a really good cause. I was immediately intimidated, so much so that I accidentally told him I was having ‘a fan girl moment’. How embarrassing. He was so gracious and helpful and positive; ultimately, he said that he wanted to find a place for me in the project where I could learn something. There were other volunteers working, and he maybe wanted to expand the project past the simple task of cataloguing his thousands of items. It was not the interview, nor the offer I was expecting. Suddenly, I had this established person in the art world who maybe wants to help me figure out how to gain actual useful professional experience. Too good to be true? Anyways, it all ended with a promise to call him next week to set up a face-to-face meeting to discuss potential projects and time management. Again, I like putting things off; this time I used Easter as an excuse.

When I hung up, panic set in. It was- and still is – something that makes my anxiety just soar to its highest heights. Firstly, appointments with figures of authority make me feel like I am going in to be judged. I also have a problem doing anything in the art world (the freaking field I want to get into) because I am intimidated and insecure about my own education. Did I actually learn enough to pass? Or did I just sit in my apartment crying for four years – I really can’t tell anymore. What if I say something stupid to him and he realizes that his initial offer to help me out was wasted? The man set up an exhibition for Disney. DISNEY. Let’s add the fact that meeting people and making first impressions is like putting 10,000 needles in my eye at once. It’s not a pleasant thing. I over think, I look stoic and off putting, or I go so far as acting supremely fake in an effort to make things right between me and the poor person who is forced to be in my company. This isn’t just with authority figures, it’s with anyone. Those ‘other volunteers’ that I’ll be working with? I will probably freak them out with my silence and Wednesday Adams glares within an hour. This is especially true for boys. Never have I been more anxious when I have to talk to a guy my age about anything. This is most likely why I never have had a boyfriend and no one has ever expressed the least bit of interest in me. I’m off topic…

It’s true that maybe this opportunity is too good to be true and the guy is not as impressive as I’m thinking he is. The worst that can happen is that he and the other volunteers ask me to stop willingly giving my free time up to sorting old drawings and collectibles. Still, my heart won’t stop beating when I think about it. It now seems less of a good networking prospect and more of a terrifying opportunity for failure. I know that I need to be like Eleanor and do something that scares me. That was the point of this post, after all. It may not be exactly what she was talking about, but I need to get through the small steps before I move on to bigger things. I want to start being a person who dives in and loves her life. No more sitting out.

Yes I may fail, but no matter what I will grow a bit too. Maybe it’s worth it. I’m going to be spending my Easter long weekend reading social anxiety coping guides and articles that list ways that I can impress people.

I’ll update you all on the happenings later. Don’t forget to be awesome.