Are Self-Help Books Self-Helpful?

Thinking of reading a self-help book?

Will it ease your back pain?
Will it make you thinner?
Will it help you find true love?
Will it endanger your life?
My first self-help book was Let's Eat Right to Keep Fit, the Bible of food back in the 1970s.  I recall making Adelle Davis's nutritional booster of brewer's yeast, wheat germ, raw eggs, and fruit juice.  Check it out!

I've had some transformational insights due to self-help books, particularly Co-Dependent No More which showed me that my situation was typical of many people and not unique to me.  The book described my then (way-back then) partner's behaviours and my responses as if there had been a camera in our home for the previous five years.

This realization enabled this enabler to pry herself loose from the cycle of fleeing and returning.  After reading the book, I was able to see the cycle as a typical pattern.  The book sucked all the unique drama out of my experience.  I was a cliché.  I had the book, though, for many months before being able to read it.  The book was screaming its blue cover at me - and finally, at the right time, I was able to listen.

Difficult Conversations helped me see my own responsibility in all the difficult conversations I found myself in. This had the powerful impact of reducing anger.  How can I be mad at you and disappointed in you if I knew how disappointing you would be from the beginning?

The Five Dysfunctions of a Team has been a very useful book for anyone working in groups. The key message of that book is that trust is essential for teams to be effective.

The other four dysfunctions follow from absence of trust.

A friend of mine said this, "Life is too interesting and too complex for self-help to be worthwhile."

I would say the opposite:  Life is too interesting and complex for self-help and any other kind of help not to be worthwhile.  There is no one answer.  There are many answers, and the right book at the right time can sometimes be just what we need. 

At least it was for me.  

Can You Make a Difference, Part 2

When I was teaching in a jail school, people were always asking, "Can you make a difference?"  Most teachers know change does happen, and it happens often enough right in the classroom to keep us flinging our hearts up on the blackboard.  In fact, we live for those moments when we see a light flicker on in a dark place.

Teachers are also full of dark places. Interactions with our students change us irrevocably ‑‑ and change is painful.

Pete had taken my communication course at night school.  He was hoping to get into college full‑time.  He had been a young offender in his teens, and now wanted to be a youth worker.  After the course was over, we continued to talk, usually about his romantic and cash flow problems.

To help his cash flow, I asked Pete to come over to reshingle my leaking roof.  He brought a recent acquaintance.

At one point, I let the acquaintance into the house to "make a phone call."  It turned out he was actually looking for theft‑worthy goods.

A few months later, I had a break‑in.  The thief found spare car keys and used my car to take my computer and other items for his clients.

My IBM clone

He smashed up my car in a four‑car collision and was seen fleeing the accident, carrying my guitar.  I was devastated, especially for the loss of poetry, stories, and teaching materials that were saved on my computer ‑‑ and nowhere else.

The police asked me to think of everyone who had been in my house in the past six months.  Witnesses at the accident said the driver was in his 20s, blond, and bearded.

I called Pete and, before I said anything, he sighed, "Oh no, not you, too."  It turns out his "friend" had broken into Pete's house and the homes of everyone he had met during the weeks the two of them were socializing.

Pete gave me his friend's name.  At the police station, I discovered the friend had a record and I identified his picture.

Pete came over to talk.  He felt responsible.  He was profoundly apologetic and crying and wished he'd never brought the guy over.  He also let it slip that he knew the receiver of the stolen goods - the fence - but would not name him.  Pete had served his time and been rehabilitated, but he still knew everyone in his criminal community.

Pete also told me that he might know where my computer was.

Apparently, an escort service had put out an "order" for a computer.  Which escort service?  He would not tell me that ‑‑ but he imagined the new "owners" had got rid of the computer by now since they heard the police were looking for their  supplier. 

He knew the fence and probably the recipient as well.

I believe he was sorry.  He pleaded with me to understand.  But he was afraid, so he chose to protect his criminal acquaintances rather than help out someone who had helped him.

I felt disgusted. Our friendship was over.

Eight months pass.  The phone rings late one night.  It's Pete calling from a village on the west coast.

He just wanted to say hi.  He'd moved on.  He was working for some cousin, reading a lot, and living alone.

Two years pass.  I get another call ‑‑ this time from Kingston.  Pete, again "just checking in," saying he's working and staying out of trouble.

I said, "I'm glad to hear it."  What else could I say?

But now, I realize that he was apologizing the only way he knew how:  By getting a job ‑‑ and staying out of trouble.

Sometimes a change in our students comes only from our profound disappointment in them. 

As for me, I gradually learned to be less naive, more cautious ‑‑ less trusting.

This story was originally published in 1999 in The Hamilton Spectator when I was on their  community editorial board.

For more on teaching in the jail school, please see Can You Make a Difference (Part 1)

What Made You Change Direction?

Have you ever changed direction?  Once rushing south towards Niagara Falls from Hamilton, Ontario, I found myself on a ramp heading north over a bridge towards Toronto.  Driving across the bridge, I realized that the road I was on had nothing to do with my destination.  After several kilometres, I managed to turn myself around, but lights had gone on in my mind and stayed on, consuming energy, for some time.

I realized that if my hoped-for destination was peace, safety, creativity, productivity, love, and maybe even happiness, I was on the wrong road.

A change of direction can be slow at first and then sudden.  Or it can happen all at once.  My friend, John, was working on his MSc in Engineering Physics at the Chalk River Nuclear Power Plant.  When Chernobyl blew up on April 26, 1986, John's 25th birthday, he quit his graduate program and his research and walked away from Chalk River.

William was a university student in business and economics and entirely invested in the pursuit of money. He planned  to go to school, get a degree in communication, enter some business, and then rise to the top making lots of money along the way.  Then he read Be Here Now by Baba Ram Dass.  He changed his major to comparative religions and soon his interests, beliefs, health and everything else changed as well.  He is grateful!

John told me, much later, that sometimes an event is more of an excuse or a way to mark a turning point.  He thinks perhaps he was changing direction anyway, and Chernobyl was merely an instigating factor.  Perhaps William would have changed direction too without Be Here Now.

Changing direction is difficult, but after the initial disorientation and eventual re-orientation, we are probably grateful for our turn-abouts.

What made you change direction?

Is There a Quarter-Life Crisis? (Revisited)

Here are some signs that you might be experiencing a quarter-life crisis:

1. A love relationship doesn't solve the problem of having to also have a life.
2. Your parents want you to pay rent.
3. Whatever you studied in any school didn't seem to include what you really need to know.
4. You begin to wonder if anyone knows it.
5. You investigate various spiritual paths and mentors.  These help briefly, then you move on.
6. You discover that following your dreams is harder than you first thought it would be, especially if you also want to be independent, make your own rules, and eat.

And you justifiably believe that you have not contributed in any way to your problems.  You've done EVERYTHING you were supposed to do:  grew up, went to school, graduated from college, and looked for a job.  Since you haven't contributed to your problems, you do not believe your own actions will solve them.

Is the quarter-life crisis different from the mid-life crisis?

Yes.  If you experience the quarter-life crisis, you might fight with everyone who has helped you and be angry at the system they seem to have created.  The quarter-life crisis lasts until you find a place where you can more or less function, a "club," let's say, willing to have you as a member.  This "club" can be a company, job, spouse, religion, band, cause, political party, or purpose.  Within this club, you begin to flourish as a person.  You get opportunities and take on responsibilities.  You discover and develop more of your strengths, abilities, and interests.  You grow into your life.

At mid-life, you might begin to feel that the job, spouse, or religion that took you in during your quarter-life crisis spoke to only one part of you.  The secret or hidden life that you've suppressed so that you will fit into the club now needs expression.

The quarter-life crisis involves finding your place in the world.  The mid-life crisis involves expressing your most authentic self.

Is there also a three-quarter life crisis?  I don't know yet.
Can there be a zero-crisis life?  I don't think so.
Are these crises bad?  No, they are good and necessary -- but difficult.

Things Seemed Fine. What Happened?

Post-traumatic stress (PTS) is real.  I know that.  A reader asked me to expand on my recent post (Is Hockey Necessary?) where I mention panic attacks and PTS.  So I shall.

I'm not an expert, but here is how I see it:  When you are dealing with a crisis, you don't have much chance to breathe.  If you are dealing with an ongoing crisis, you may be out of breath for a while.  In my case, I freed myself from a stressful and abusive situation with an emotionally unstable partner.  Partners like these are easy to find, but hard to lose.  They're the sidewalk gum of romance.

When I began to breathe the air of freedom, it was exhilarating.  Life was difficult and I had a lot to learn, but I was eager to learn.  I could relax.  I knew I was starting my life over and it was wonderful.  Then the panic attacks started.  All the stress I had repressed for five years was seeping to the surface without asking permission.

Before this time, I had occasionally experienced panic attacks while driving over long, high bridges.  Bridge phobia is not unusual, but I began to have panic attacks driving anywhere.  City driving was mostly okay; highway driving was unpredictable.  The symptoms would happen unexpectedly and included breathlessness, nausea, shaking, fast heartbeat, inability to speak or think clearly, detachment from reality, and maybe voices or hallucinations.

At one time I believed I had recovered sufficiently to drive several family members home to Hamilton from an event in Toronto.  A heavy rainstorm began and so did my panic attack.  I started driving very slowly hoping to make it to the next exit.  My mother kept saying, "What's going on?  What's the matter?"  Me:  "Nothing, I'm fine," as I went slower ... and ... slower and finally pulled onto the shoulder unable to drive any further.  My mother was the only other driver in the car, and she had just had cataract surgery.  She said she would drive, and we changed seats.  She turned at the next exit, seeing badly out of one eye, and we took a back road to Hamilton.

She kept asking, "Do you want to take over now?"  I'm still listening to the other voices, but I manage to say, "No!! You're doing great."

That's how bad it can be.  There's was no way I could get back behind the wheel.

A few years later, a friend with NLP training, taught me how to stop the panic attacks.  I learned to focus on a memory of personal empowerment as soon as the panic attack began.  I was able to cure myself.  I also learned to avoid bad relationships (see July 28 blog).  All that happened 20 years ago.  I've been building bridges for a long while now, and even crossing them.

Do You Feel Held Back by Something in Your Past?

Today, I heard this story from my friend J.

J was feeling stuck, blocked, stagnating - like she couldn't grow or move forward in her life.  She knew she had to connect with her mother somehow -- but her mother had been dead for several years.  While they had become close in the months before her death, J and her mother had had a stormy relationship.  That past relationship had J in its grip.  She decided to write.

Her journal entry took the form of a letter to her mother.  One of their issues had been  J's relationship with her father as an adult -- many years after her parents' marriage ended.  During J's childhood, her father had been violent and dangerous, but later in life he had changed, sought help, and become supportive and loving.

J's mother could never forgive her husband for his actions towards her and the children and she was angry that J had reconciled with him.  The more J developed a relationship with her father, the more she felt that she was betraying her mother.  Rather than accept her mother's justifiable feelings and separate them from her own, she needed her mother to approve of her relationship with her father.  

She wrote and wrote, travelling the roads of anger, fear, sadness, and frustration arriving, finally, at forgiveness.  Not of her mother or father, but of herself.  She needed to forgive herself for her anger at her mother.  This search and rescue operation of writing released her from regret.  It was time to move forward.

How powerful is that?

"You can let go of the past, but the past won't let go of you." - says Tom Cruise's character in the film, Magnolia.  But as I've discussed here before ("Are We Doomed?" August 1), the past will release us when we accept it and understand its message.

Are You Full of Restless Longing?

Restless longing seems to come up often in my conversations - probably because I've been asking people, "Are you full of restless longing?"  One friend says he wants to travel more and more every year.  I said, "Are you full of restless longing?"  He replied, "Yes, at my back I always hear/Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near."

My sister said we have less restless longing as we get older.  But those irritating bucket list books full of things to do before you die suggest more.  I wonder if restless longing is a gender thing, with the Y-gene carrying more restless longing than the X - but probably not.  Restless longing is a state of dissatisfaction.  It's nice to feel more satisfied and peaceful, but restless longing keeps us from becoming complacent and smug.

There's even a colour called "restless longing".  It's a fresh, bright green - suggesting a touch of envy.  You can see it here:  http://www.colourlovers.com/color/BAF7BF/restless_longing.

Mostly, I figure longing is just lounging without "u"

I move up and down the continuum between restless longing and contentment.  Sometimes I lean more towards Andrew Marvell:

"Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:"

But not often enough.  Maybe I am full of restless longing.  Are you?

What's the Hardest Thing You Ever Had to Let Go Of?

Back in the last century, I had to let go of a doomed relationship that had already let go of me.  To help myself in the process, I asked everyone I met:  "What is the hardest thing you ever had to let go of?"  "My freedom," said a new mother.  "My youth," said someone who had just turned 40.  People told me that it was hard letting go of jobs, friends, homelands, beliefs, and resentments.

One friend, a graphic artist, said this:  "For years I was ready to buy a house.  I had an image of the house I wanted.  It had to be modern in some ways, but cosy and old-fashioned in other ways.  The problem was that the house of my imagination didn't exist.  I poured tens of thousands of dollars into rent instead of into a mortgage.  When I finally let go of the house in my head, I found a great place.  In the end - letting go was easy, hanging on was hard... it stopped me from growing."

Fears sit just below the surface of the difficulty of letting go.  If we bring our fears into the light and face them, letting go might be easier.

What Else is Disappearing?

I just read this line in the August 8, 2011, New Yorker, "He prefers skinny ties, which, he maintains, are harder to find than a decent reading lamp."  (Patricia Marx, "Real Men Don't Shop").

Yes, skinny ties are apparently disappearing, along with thin belts. I'm wearing one now on my flammable shorts (see July 21 blog post), but it was very hard to find.  Most irritating is the disappearance of B and 2B pencils in packs of 10.  You can get B (#1) or 2-10B pencils in the art section of your office supply store, but they don't have erasers and you are meant to use them for drawing only.  Decent pencils have been disappearing for a while now.  I met a frustrated man in Staples the other day.  We were both hunting for pencils and he went on and on about lead falling out of pencils when he sharpens them, lousy erasers, and the effect bad pencils are having on his golf game.

I mentioned in yesterday's blog that conversation is disappearing and apparently picnics.  You doubt me?  Then ask yourself, how many picnics have you had this year, compared to 1986, say?

I know the disappearance of skinny ties is trivial compared to non-renewable resources, bees and other species, and clean air, but maybe all these disappearing things are part of a pattern or a trend?  Oh, I've noticed trends are also disappearing.