I recently purchased a book on financial independence written by one of the FIRE couples whose blogs I used to read. I was a little shocked just how the lead author approached her life. Having grown up in abject poverty, her general contention was that this poverty had the positive side effect of teaching her the value of money. I can kind of see what she means, but I was also thinking, “Holy crap, I don’t think we should ever be thankful for trauma”. Appreciating the true value of money is great, but being forced into this by horrible circumstances is not something to celebrate. And yet, there it was, this weird attitude of “I’m actually very happy and adversity made me a better person!” that is so characteristic of modern self-help. There’s nothing wrong with optimism, per se, but Stockholm Syndrome is real.
I honestly couldn’t get through the book. I’m sure there’s something I could learn from reading the rest of it, even though I’m already familiar with the core concepts, but it was almost like something inside of me was reacting very strongly against it. I kept putting the book down and saying, “I hate this book”.
This has brought me back to thinking about my “Anxiety as Status Symbol” posts. The world offers us all of this advice from “gurus” promising enlightenment and status, if only we would bow down. I think there can be value in taking life advice from people who have some perspective to add, but gaining perspective is very different than following a “system”, expecting that system to address everything in our lives. One thing you’ll notice, too, is that there is never an end to the self-help. The people who tend to read self-help are convinced they are somehow lacking, and so they go on an eternal and often fruitless quest to fix all of the things. It sounds like a good thing – afterall, aren’t we all imperfect? – but I think it leads to an even stranger and potentially more destructive cycle of chasing the words of humans we are better off avoiding.
Several months ago, a friend recommend the book, “Exposing the Spiritual Roots of Disease”. The first part of the book honestly kind of offending me, as it continuously drove home the assertion that roughly 80% of disease of uncertain natural origins has spiritual origins. It honestly seemed a bit “woo” at first, but the author was incredibly sincere. It was like, “Hey, I don’t like this either, but over several decades of ministry, these things keep appearing in association, and I can’t deny this”. Moreover, I felt drawn into the book, not repulsed. I would never tell somebody else that their disease is spiritual, but as I kept reading, questions kept popping into my head. Have I forgiven all people and institutions who have wronged me? Uh, well, no, now that you mention it. Have I allowed fear to dominate my life? What?! Get out of here! Although, yes, probably. Do I trust God, or has my own tenancy to take on mental weight keep me from rest? Whoa. Maybe.
And it was so funny, because none of this is what is talked about in self-help books, yet it’s all in the Bible. It’s not rocket science, and no guru is needed. Have I really listened to what God has to say in my life?
I commonly see new years resolutions in which people say, “This year, I’m cutting out all toxic people and haters!” That sounds nice, I guess, but what if you are the toxic person? What if you are the hater? It’s always assumed that you are the one in the right, and it’s other people who have to be removed from your life. What if your resolution was instead, “This year, I’m going to be better to my friends”. “This year, I’m going to forgive all who have wronged me”. “This year, I’m going to forgive myself”.
The world is constantly telling us who we should be, and then offering us solutions for how to get there. It makes a lot of sense to me that the people who tend to buy self-help books simply never stop: they are constantly driven to and fro by the waves of popular opinion. As I wrote this, I got the image in my mind of dark figures pushing someone back and forth across a circle and laughing. It often gets justified by the veneer of what would otherwise seem healthy: “I am not perfect”. Yes, this is true, but by what measures are you not perfect? Are you using the correct measures? Or are you being tossed about by bad winds?
By what measure am I measuring myself? The world’s values, or God’s values? I think this question is going to drive how I start “solving” things in my life. As it is, I’m making a deliberate effort to remove all self-help books from my shelves.