self help books | Am I Really?

As of late, I have been reading a lot of mushy-gushy, follow your passion, “I really like myself” books. No sure what’s going on there, but I walked into Barnes and Noble the other day and swooped an entire shelf of books into my basket.

For some reason, I’ve always be partial to the Self Help section of the book store. Maybe it’s because of my psychology background; maybe it’s because I feel better knowing there are other people out there with the same problems (Yes! I too can’t stop obsessing about my pantry!); most likely it is because the book titles make me giggle (Why Your Life Sucks anyone???).

PS – NOT a book about dogs.

However….

There were a few areas of assistance I found missing. Here are some Self Help books I would like to see on the shelf:

You ARE Getting Old. Sorry. Enough with the How to Age Gracefully crap. Having things sag and shift kind of blows. Does that mean you don’t matter? No. But let’s be honest, you are not going to look 19 again no matter how much you spackle on the Midnight Renewal cream (trust me, I’ve tried it with mixed results).
How to Throw a Facebook Intervention Party. Okay, I have written about my love/hate of social media, but some people could really dial it down a notch. I don’t think we all need to know that Gary did not receive his pickle spear, yet again, from the deli lady.
Nine Ways to Improve Your Selective Memory. We all crave sharper brain power, but do you really need to remember the time you laughed so hard you snot-bubbled in front of your new boss? I say no. Enter the selective memory.
Kale – Nobody Likes You. Sooooo many weight loss and healthy eating books. We get it; eat less, move more. But kale? You’re not foolin’ anyone buddy.
Psst. It’s Not a Secret. You Actually Have to Work to Make a Living. Let me go ahead and pre-apologize if you loved the book The Secret. I just couldn’t do it. Honestly, five vision boards later and I still didn’t have a job. Oh wait, maybe I should have utilized that time sending out my resume.
She’s/He’s Kind of into You. Maybe Stop Snoring So Much. I know plenty of relationships saved with sleep apnea solutions. Get that damn deviated septum fixed pal and maybe your lady will be nicer in the morning. Because she actually slept through the night.
Mean Girls – Don’t Worry, It Gets Better. Just Kidding! It Doesn’t. We all want to believe cattiness goes away with time. It doesn’t. The girls just get older and have better hand bags. If someone published an honest book about this, we could all navigate things a bit better.
You Shui, I Shui, We all Feng Shui! Open this book and inside is a trash bag. To throw all your old crap away. Home harmony – done.
How to Get People to Liste- Oh Wait, Where Are You Going? You can be the most magnanimous speaker on the planet, but some people just don’t listen. This book comes with a rubber band you can shoot at people to get their attention.
How to Meditate for Relaxation. This book contains a pillow and a babysitter. The sitter watches your children while you sleep. Oooohhhhhmmmm.

All in all, I have gleaned quite a bit from these books. The main message: listen to yourself and look inside.

So I did, and here’s what I’ve found:

A LOT of Carbs.
A lost VHS tape of The Breakfast Club.
Some old hurts.

We all have stuff that needs to be fixed. It’s nice to know some people have written material to help us heal for only $19.99. You might learn something, improve something, or maybe even giggle a bit.

And let’s face it, it is a whole lot cheaper than the ten to twenty therapy sessions your Aetna plan won’t cover.

Photos Courtesy of:

Cat in Mirror – www.quickmeme.com

Men Love Bitches – www.thedatereport.com

Stop Having Problems Stupid – www.amazon.com

Dog in Mirror – www.pinterest.com

I’m having a yard sale this weekend. Please come and buy all my crap-ola. I don’t know how I accrue all this shizzaz. It’s as if I wake up one day and realize I will be on the next episode of Hoarders.

I don’t get it. Why, why, why do I purchase items that I know down deep will only collect dust, or rot in the back of the refrigerator? My purchases are like those stupid captcha words you have to type in when buying concert tickets to the House of Blues. The font is a cross between a three-year-old’s scrawl and realvirtue (Who the hell uses that font? Probably the same three people who eat at Arby’s.). Unnecessary is my point here.

I think the answer has less to do with frivolous spending, and more so with, “Oh cool! I want to be that person who wears a Roman Goddess-style belt.”

I’m not though. I look at the belt and then I put on my pants with a hole in the pocket. But I want to be that person. That person seems cool, and hip, and healthy. That chick is going to parties with bottle service and laughing about silly lame women stuck in the carpool line. She probably also owns a Jeep. Bitch.

Sometimes I want to buy a new something something and be the cool person I think would wear/eat/use that item.

Below are some items which I have purchased (some more than once) in my vain attempt to be that person:

The book The Secret and a couple other warm and fuzzy how to succeed in life books. I usually read at the first chapter, realize I have to make some type of collage to get my dream home by the sea, and then find I am out of glue. Spiritual Self Help Books = masking themselves as craft books.
An extra, extra long striped scarf. This was my attempt to go Bohemian. I saw the scarf and thought, “Oh, I will wear this and my glasses while writing in a dirty coffee house that smells like Arabica beans and poor hipsters.” Unfortunately for the scarf I am super short, creating a Swiffer mop scenario for the too-cool-for-school scarf. Trendy Scarf = HoarHcrammed in the back of the closet.
Fresh kale. I still have no idea how to cook this damn plant, but a magazine boasted of all its vitamins, anti-aging properties, and the possibility of balancing my check book. So there it sat in my crisper until it turned yellow. Super Healthy food = someone else needs to cook this sh*t.
Yet another journal. Many a tree has died for the sole purpose of me buying the decorative covered notebook and writing on one page: Pay Electric Bill, Out of Peanut Butter, and Children with Animal Faces. Then I dutifully misplace said notebook, only to buy another one a couple of months later. Yes, I eventually use these paper books, but it seems like a waste. Sassy Journal = a felled redwood and forgotten story idea.

Bottom line – I like being me. So should you. It’s fun to try on different styles and personas, just don’t forget what you’re all about.

This weekend, as I watch strangers buy my un-wanted shirts, old baby gear, and those stupid candle holders I never used, I will feel clean. A new beginning to carve out a new piece of myself so I can go out and get new stuff to match the new and improved me.

And maybe remember to buy that damn peanut butter.