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American Midol: Wanker, Heal Thyself!

Nov 7 2005 by Lani Voivod

I'm being throttled by the self-help movement.

Its hopeless premise and illogical solutions snarf all the energy allocated for my self-improving.

Consider…

The Premise
We've been unconditionally screwed up by our parents. Either they loved us too much and did too much for us, or they neglected, bullied, and abused us in the myriad ways parents can. And now it's up to us, the psychologically limping, simpering grownup wankers, to:

Figure out our damaged plight.
Replace our toxic beliefs and behaviors with healthy, enlightened, kid-tested and shrink-approved habits and patterns.
Soar-SOAR-SOAR to the heights we were destined to reach!

But…how?

The Options

Therapy. Spend an hour and a C-note every week blubbering to a warm body who's heard it all before and yet STILL boasts having no answers, let alone guarantees.
Drugs. Society's "put a sock in it and get back to work!" wunderkind.
Meditation. Embrace the stillness. Go inward. Revel in the infinity of the moment. Don't "do," "BE." Pretty sweet – except when I'm BEing, my DOing pile surrenders to the throws of exponential-growth ecstasy.
Yoga. Stretch, bend, breathe, feel…lurch, wobble, wrench your back, then go do something that burns more than 50 calories/hour so you can eat that organically-grown veggie burger with cheese.
Self-Help Books and the "Gurus" Who Write Them. One unified message: "Look, you loser! If you were more like me, you'd be fine. So put a sock in it and be my little female pooch! Jeez…"

Given the options, my only REAL instinct is to go back to the folks who allegedly screwed me up in the first place and ask them to kick, nurture, insult, and coddle me for the next 30 years. (Teen spirit never smelled so yummy!)

But they'd be fools to take me. They've figured out life's fibs and foibles without any of this "enlightened" self-help pucky. And they sure as heck don't want a moping, mumbling, mantra-tized Gen-Xer proselytizing the New Age Glory of the Holy Trinity – Sir Robbins, Dame Oprah, and the Chopra-Canfield-Dyer-Covey-Carnegie-Hill-Peale-McGraw-Gray-Schlessinger Players.

But still – a grownup wanker can dream!

Enjoyed this American Midol column? Or diabolically incensed by its uselessness? Either way, you're invited to check out all of Lani Voivod's Midol spasms right here. Wanna sound off on this subject? Send your feedback to comments@deadbrain.com!

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