Self-help is self-delusion (Day 3)

I used to think that I could be one of those people who made everything neat and tidy, stayed within budget, cooked from scratch, and generally made everyone happy--all while saving the world--and if I wasn't getting all of that done it was because there was something wrong with me. But every time I got really into some modality that was supposed to help with even some of that, my ears would always prick up just a little bit when someone critiqued whatever I had stumbled into. Macrobiotic cooking, mind body fitness, meditation, tidying (but I do still love it), minimalism (I have never loved it), bullet journaling, Martha Stewart, raw foods--all of it. I always put it down to being a little self-thwarting, but in reality, my BS-meter just wouldn't stop working.

The books I've been drawn to, while ostensibly trying to answer the question "How do I...?" as a body finally helped me understand that I had been asking the wrong question of the wrong parties. The issue isn't that I need to hack my way through The Game of Life, but that life should not be a game. Life is, in fact, reality. 

This will do nothing for you...

The reason people have trouble managing their money isn't because they haven't found the perfect tracking system, but because wages were stagnated for decades while labor protections were gutted, and the things we're all told we should be willing to pay for--education, housing--have risen so much that they are out of reach for many without debt. The reason people are chronically, debilitatingly stressed isn't because they haven't found the meditation technique that will take them to nirvana, but because the modern world--as was the pre-modern world--is filled with stressors that reflect both immediate, life-threatening events like frequent mass shootings and slow burning but ultimately traumatic problems like a lack of access to healthy food, chronic poverty, and systemic racism and classism. The reason so many of us struggle with health problems isn't because we're idiots that don't know how to cook, but because the food industry has been trying to make us the most productive workers we can be since the end of World War II by feeding us high calorie foods...that mean we don't need to take a break from work to eat. (I am not making this up; Ultra Processed People by Chris van Tulleken discusses this.) The reason we don't get exercise is because, if we're not working the kinds of hours that prevent us from doing anything other than working and sleeping, the majority of us live in places that have been designed specifically for cars, not people. The reason you can't put down junk food, marijuana, alcohol, cigarettes, video games, porn, or your smart phone isn't because you lack morals, character, or discipline, but because those things have been optimized to be habit forming. The reason your email is overflowing isn't because you don't know how to prioritize, but because everyone thinks they're entitled to a piece of you. The reason you have too many possessions is because you have been told, implicitly and explicitly, that you will be judged if you don't have enough stuff, and it has to be the right kind of stuff, your needs, finances, and space constraints be damned. The reason we experience prejudice and inequality isn't because we don't know how to put our best selves forward, but because we live in a prejudiced, unequal civilization.

Do you really think you're going to change any of that with a Bullet Journal, a kakeibo, time-saving recipes, efficient workouts, meditation, or self-actualization techniques? You can help manage some circumstances better with certain tools, but you can't change the underlying causes. And while there are some behaviors you can change that can sometimes make a difference, there's a limit. My financial circumstances improved not because I wasn't spending money (you have no idea how little I spend on clothing, and my housing costs are low compared to other people in my state), but because 1) I could refinance my mortgage when interest rates dropped and 2) my husband got a raise. Being parsimonious meant those advantages didn't evaporate, but it would be ridiculous to say that I somehow manifested the raise itself by being "good with money".  

...but this will

The time we are spending reading self-help blogs, newsletters, and books, watching self-improvement videos, and perfecting the practice of coping systems is keeping us from the actual work we need to do. If we want to improve our lives, we have to change the systems we live in. Sure, that starts with questions about why something is the way it is, but then it's *work*. It's different for everything, it's messy, and it doesn't fit in a pithy book an eighth-grader could write. It's what you find when you study history, because shockingly, people have been able to make necessary changes, and under less promising circumstances. It's scary--and boy, can those books be long--but somehow I prefer that to the fairy-tale complacency of self-help.

Deb in the City

Out and about

When I started blogging, my youngest were almost two. They are now 19, and one has finished his associate's degree and is off to the flagship state school on Monday (*sigh*) and the other is finishing his final class at community college before he transfers to art school. Today was the first day of class, and I rode in with him to class.

Had a surprise run-in with one of my neighbors and had a lovely chat with her (the annoyed guy next to me can screw). Got my son a pastry and drink, then discovered that the nearby library wasn't open for another two hours. Good excuse for a walk through Charlestown and the North End. 

While transiting, chatted with the traffic cop (there is always construction in Boston, but rarely assistance for pedestrians). After discovering that we both lived in the same part of Boston, at least at one point, had a bit of gallows humor about still living in a capitalistic country for the next six months, then all bets are off. It's funny because it's true!

Had a laugh as I crossed into the North End and saw the restaurant window below. My husband has been duly warned. 

Still too early for the libraries in this part of town to be open, so I'm parked at a cafe, ready to get down to business. (Lest anyone accuse me of being bourgeois, please see above about intended plan for libraries.)

(Wow, this was a lot of photos today!)

In other news, looking at some of the Christmas art on Ann Wood's site inspired me to start thinking about Pesach/Passover and Chanukah. What do those holidays mean? What do those rituals mean? As someone who creates--do I dare to call myself an artist?--I think about limitations quite a bit. Like many people, I find they provide focus, and in many cases freedom. Occurred to me as I was pondering these holidays that for some things the limitations are the definition. That's not always a bad thing, but perhaps it speaks to why we need to ponder what those limitations are constantly, and redefine them as necessary. 

Speaking of limitations, time is the one which presses hardest today, so off to read some history and play with more differential equations. Until next time,

Deb in the City

To blog

I started blogging in the summer of 2006. You can read my first post here. I changed blogs because I thought I would follow all of that advice about making everything more "professionally" focused, but that isn't who I am. I've been relieved to see that advice and mindset recede (at least in some corners) over the last few years.

I know the momentum of activity on the internet has moved to social media, but I just can't. I do like my very focused communities--on bullet journaling and everything people are really trying to get to, Gaslit Nation, a couple of servers on Discord, and even, on occasion, my library's review boards--but Social Media 2.0 hasn't made any improvements on the 1.0 versions. Bluesky degraded very quickly into the worst of Twitter, and Mastodon is unreadable. I have no desire to get into anything Meta puts out. I know there are more out there, but I have better things to do with my time than tinker every time a new website comes out.

Weird outlier: Goodreads. I still loathe Amazon, but many of the authors I enjoy post their blogs there. Some of them have led me to other amazing books, and some of them have led me to other communities. So while it will still be very rare for me to leave a review there, I am happy to check them a few times a week.

Another great source of information: Brooke Gladstone's On the Media radio show. She has led me to some great books as well as some great authors, as well as putting on a consistently informative show. 

But I digress. Then again, that's part of what blogs are for.

Blogs are a little easier to share with the world

 

I like blogs. I like writing one (believe it or not, given my output), but I also like reading them. I mean the ones that are written for their own sake, though they may have incidentally become an income stream or enhanced another. It's not that I think there's anything wrong with making money from your blogs, it's that the ways people do it don't encourage me to read. I love the old cooking blogs (please check out Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Post Punk Kitchen for an example of why), but even if the point of every post is to get me to buy some schlock off of Amazon so you can make a percentage of a penny off of the sales, please stop writing PAGES of text to describe how to make a grilled cheese. It doesn't fool anyone, and at the end of the day almost all of those types of posts aren't informative. You don't make me feel like I've learned anything; you make me feel like I've wasted my time.

I've been loving Suyi Davies Okungbowa, Cory Doctorow, Ann Wood, Austin Kleon, Elizabeth Spann Craig, Dr. Michael Greger, and Chris Guillebeau. (I've also loved Jenny Doh, but unfortunately she doesn't appear to be blogging anymore.) These people write for a variety of reasons, but chief among them is a desire to share, which in many cases is linked to an explicit desire to *grow*. That is a fantastic thing to witness in public and sometimes even participate in, and flies in the face of yet more ridiculous advice that we have to be perfect fonts of wisdom before we can present ourselves in any capacity to the world. I don't always agree with everything they write, but I do still love the way they write. I find just about all of them inspirational in some way, however earnest that may sound.

This year, I want to find more such places to go. (Yes, sometimes a good newsletter does the trick, but there is something about the history--the evolution--of ideas and projects that I take more comfort in.) For as much as the blog has been declared dead for the last decade, I don't think that's true, and in fact I think they're coming back. So point me to the new ones as they come up, but also point me to old favorites.

The passage of time

Happy 2024!

I've been silent for the last few months because there have been things going on of a legal nature that I need to keep quiet about until things settle. (To the point that I took down a handful of posts that I wrote while things were blowing up; maybe someday I'll repost them.) All I will say is that this is not just about me but about someone extremely vulnerable, and that heightens the need for me to be discrete until I've achieved a resolution. (No, I am not getting a divorce.)

Worst case scenario is that the resolution does not arrive for another two years, in part because there are at least three different parts of the legal system my family must navigate. There is always, of course, the possibility that it won't take two years, but in my experience with the other party, counting on "the worst case scenario" is the safest bet. That's made me bitter and desperate, if I'm honest...but it occurred to me last week that this is part of why we come up with the worst possible cases. We can be mentally prepared, but we can also have some perspective. Two years is too long--this is something that should have been resolved years ago--but two years isn't forever. (And while I'm firmly planted in middle age, perhaps the news that the average lifespan of modern Korean women is 90.7 years has informed my outlook.) So the question my family and I have been trying to answer is what the next two years will look like. It's still messy and it's definitely unfair, but being able to define a time frame makes it a little more manageable.

This is not, fortunately, my whole life. I did, as of December, start transcribing my saga, and I keep thinking, you know, this isn't as bad as thought it would be. (Don't worry, I also keep finding things I'm going to need to edit, and I'm not talking about grammar or typos.) As of the beginning of January I started stimulating those other parts of my brain that respond to numbers and logic. (There's really only so much a sudoku game is going to do for you.) Sticking up for my nineteen year old self was the reason why I wanted to get into Differential Equations, but it's my middle aged self that wants to stay with it. I am as daunted as anyone else by learning something new, but with math I'm inclined to stick with it because to me math has always felt like a puzzle, and I like solving puzzles. Chemistry has a similar attraction--those equations involve a lot of math!--but Korean is to reclaim something I feel I should have gotten when I was younger. Maybe we can't go back--and ugh, why would you want to?--but we can appreciate in maturity what we would have slogged through in youth.

This is a lot of fun, I swear

One of my sons will be leaving home at the end of the month to finish up his degree. It is bittersweet for me, as it is for most parents in this situation: I know he needs to leave, but I'm heartbroken that he has to. My husband and I will have only one child left at home after, but it is only a matter of time before he stretches his wings as well. 

In other news, I started playing with social media again, though between Discord and the Bullet Journal University community, I've been on it for longer than I'd thought. I've been dallying with Bluesky...and wow has it taken on toxic Twitter vibes really quickly. Signed up for Mastodon as well, but I suspect that won't be any better. I also suspect that I am just not cut out for this anymore. There was part of me that missed discussing things like politics with like-minded people on social media, but as I've encountered an incredible amount of people defending the Houthis this week, I'm starting to remember part of why I walked away in the first place. I am more than a little uncomfortable to realize that the spaces where I feel most comfortable are mission-focused and/or paid for. That is kind of awful. We shouldn't have to pay for a digital home anymore than we already are.

I have solved nothing, I know. I guess you can see some of the other appeal math has for me.

Deb in the City

Farewell, Richard Cory

My brother-in-law, a generous, successful person whom everyone enjoyed, died the Thursday before Thanksgiving in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. He had everything people are told they should want, but it wasn't enough.

Maybe we need to redefine success and re-examine what we're supposed to want.

I have many things I could say, but perhaps it isn't my place to say them. I can say, however, that if something looks too good to be true, it is. 

Have uncomfortable conversations. Be vulnerable, even if it means you're going to be shot down and hurt sometimes. Be messy, and blink a few times when you're told to be perfect. A life filled with angst and doubt is better than a perfect portrait. 

‐--

Richard Cory

'Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

'And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

'And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

'So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.'

- Edward Arlington Robinson

‐--

Goodbye, JB

Deb in the City

Treats aren't all they are cracked up to be

Meeting in the middle of the morning that prevents me from seeing my sons today (but I do get to see them tonight).) So I thought I deserved to treat myself to breakfast.

My dear reader, when will I learn?

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't as good as I can make. This goes without saying, and not because I am unusually talented but rather, well, an adult. More irritating is that I paid a premium for something that wasn't very healthy, in spite of my best efforts.

But there wasn't going to be any treat that was going to make up for not eating in my own kitchen, and that is probably the real problem.

Deb in the City (no, seriously, I insist)

--
Sent from my GO FLIP 3

Happy birthday to me!

I do plan on celebrating a little more than a matcha latte and a piece of
chocolate -- but for the record that wouldn't be so terrible if that were
the extent of what I did today.

I have much to celebrate. A sister who is autistic and nonverbal has been
having a number of scary symptoms for several weeks. My mother, who has
been her primary caretaker, is suffering with her own issues...etc. Suffice
to say that getting my sister in for a procedure yesterday required not
only the help of another sister, my husband, and some kind nurses, but also
the planning I'm known for. And maybe a couple of minor miracles.

I am happy to report that she is fine or will be in a few weeks. Of all the
problems it could have been, this is the one that I would have picked.
Thank you, universe.

I also celebrate that I feel so much better for this birthday than I did
for the last one. I had just left what turned out to be my final chemo
session the day before, which required me to be in the hospital five days,
but I could only endure four. And that day also featured the chest pains my
team was watching for, and which ultimately determined that my sessions
were ending. It was not the worst day ever -- I had my family -- but this
one is already better. Indulging in an early morning walk instead of
sitting in the dark for a few hours is even better than the latte.

Finally, the last few days have been tempered with more bitter news.
Another close relative learned that a health problem they had vanquished
years ago had returned for a repeat performance. It is frightening, since
this person is now that much older. However, and I mean this, in this case
that may turn out to be a good thing, not least because it also means
medical science has had that much longer to improve.

Aging can save our lives.

Let's endure those bad days and scary times so we can enjoy early mornings,
matcha, chocolate, good news, and family.

Deb in the City

PS The latte was very good

--
Sent from my GO FLIP 3