Self Help

Given that we’re soon to be zapped like bugs under a magnifying glass from the 50,000 very-bad-idea mirrored satellites (although I do wonder if some are already up there causing fires destroying the French wine industry, English agriculture), it’s time to sell the self-help books.  If I can dip into conspiracy theories at the drop of a sentence, then it’s likely I’ve self-helped as much as it’s possible for any self to help.  It didn’t help that much.  Some, but not that much.  Flicking through these books now, it all seems such a waste of time.  If only they corresponded to an increase in wisdom, compassion or even individuation, sadly, am doubtful that they did.  In the key question, ‘How long did it take you to feel normal?’, the answer remains ‘Any day now’.

Having clicked once on a minimalists’ ‘how to de-clutter in seven steps’ post, my insta is now extremely cluttered with minimalist anal retentives and their nth degree irritations in seven steps.  Some only take five Scandi-style steps, those are the real diehards.  You do not want to get stuck in a lift with those people.  However, insta has helped me to start de-cluttering due to slamming the phone down to escape from any more posts about it. 

In Experimental Mindset mode, ironically, the latest self-help panacea, made a pact; de-clutter for 15 minutes a day for this week.  Observations so far; de-cluttering is an exercise in non-judgement, all the ‘What was I thinkings’ and the ‘I’ll never be that gal again why am I keeping this’ moments are sad and depressingly overwhelming.  But then the ‘new me’ starts shouting encouraging things like, ‘You go gal!’.  New me can’t really get away with shouting things like that, she’s way too naff, but when self-helping, non-judgement is paramount.