Tuesday
Jun182013
The Pursuit of Wholeness
Most of the blogs I half-heartedly follow on the Internet these days seem to imitate a commercial for Coca-Cola or Sunny Delight or some other summery beverage that, if consumed, will most certainly lead to the most amazing day of your life.
In other words: LIFE. IS. AWESOME.
Shiny, happy, people living their lives. Every mundane event photographed and photoshopped into happy, bright colors so unnatural your retinas revolt. Here is what we did, here is what we wore, here is what we bought, here is what you should buy. God forbid anyone share a real feeling; a fight with a husband, how they're stuck in a lull, how parenthood isn't all they thought it would be or otherwise type against the tide of shiny happiness because they'll get picked apart or analyzed to fucking death on some website where that kind of thing goes down. Or in the comments of their own blog. For what it's worth, I'm okay with the analyzing, it's as legitimate a part of the Internet as the shit being analyzed but, in the end, being scrutinized and analyzed with an extra large helping of snark has had a pretty detrimental effect on personal blogging.
Many of the good bloggers who used to share the sad, happy, scary, weird, crazy, stupid details of their lives are very obviously toning it down for fear of backlash. I understand. I've been on the receiving end of the backlash for many years and have definitely experienced great chunks of time where I felt so self-conscious as a result of the snarky comments about myself that I edited a lot of what I shared because I was so afraid of what some anonymous commenters had to say. It can be paralyzing. Even when you've been doing this for years.
Instead of heartfelt posts wherein someone divulges their deepest darkest secrets that just might help the rest of us feel a little less alone in similar situations we get collages of what to get for Father's Day. I don't want collages! I've got a billionty-five collages at my fingertips right over there on the Pinterest and the website I write for, Babble. I don't need your gift ideas, either. They're the same ones as on the aforementioned sites or on that other blog I just read because I don't know why and, by the way, do you honestly think I'm spending more than $100 tops on a gift? Fucksakes.
I want to hear about the fight you had with your spouse last night and the ever-changing complexities of your relationship or the fact that you suspect your ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend is stalking you or how you wonder if you're drinking too much or even how you ate an entire box of Pop Tarts for breakfast. Sometimes I want to see your bedroom makeover and your photos from your vacation but most of the time I just want you, unfiltered. That's why I started reading!
You are cordially invited to point me in the direction of any bloggers still intelligently, humorously and articulately laying it on the line instead of trying to portray the perfect person because those are the blogs I want to read. Those are the blogs that make me feel a little bit less alone in the continual struggle to feel fulfilled. And I don't mind sharing my struggle. I don't mind sharing the highs and lows, even when I get called "depressing" and "repetitive" like I was yesterday because it's part of life. If I write post after post here trying to be everything to everyone than I have failed in everything I meant to do when I started this blog; connect with other people going through the same shit I do.
This site, for better or worse, is a chronicle of the past nearly ten years of my life. From marrying a guy I barely knew to moving to New York City, landing my dream job, making new friends, my journey into motherhood and officially removing myself from the Mormon church record books and our eventual move to the home in which we want to raise our kids. I've shared my greatest joys with you, my lowest lows and the most embarrassing moments of my life so when someone decides to tell me "Carry on with whatever point you are trying to make with these kinds of posts. I used to read you, and then the repetitiveness of do I drink too much, I don't think I drink too much, am I crazy, maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm depressed, no I'm not depressed started being depressing to read" I decided to respond. The comment really bothered me.
Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm depressed, I am insecure, I hate myself sometimes - this is what life is about. Figuring yourself out and trying to make it better. Do you have it all figured out? Or do you struggle with some of the same shit over and over and over again? Sometimes you get over one thing only to replace it with a new thing you need to work on. This is life. What do you really expect when you come to read this blog? I want to know. Do you want me to sand down the rough edges of my life so that you get an uplifting read every day? Bible quotes? Stuart Smalley affirmations? Would you rather I not wonder aloud if I'm drinking too much or open the closet and introduce you to the skeleton that is my occasionally debilitating insecurity and self-hatred? Would you rather I pretend like my marriage is the most amazing union since Prince Charming slid the glass slipper onto Cinderella's perfectly manicured foot?
Yesterday you got a post about my self-hatred, today you get this rant and tomorrow you get vacation photos that will make my life seem as perfect as the person who posts Father's Day gift idea collages. Next week you might get a post about how complex my relationship is with my dad. Who the fuck knows? But, just like I told a commenter yesterday, don't like it, don't read. I don't say that to be a "bitch" as I was immediately called, I say that because it seems like a completely rational response to someone telling me they dislike my blog because it's depressing and repetitive so they don't read it anymore but, oh hey, I just popped back in to tell you how disturbed you are. Why are you here? CHANGE THE CHANNEL.
I wrote yesterday's post in an attempt to articulate a low-grade self-hatred I've had for most of my life. It flares up every now and then and I usually manage to tamp it out with the self-confidence I have in certain areas of life. It's a constant balance. Something I think we all deal with on one level or another and so I wanted to share it with you. Like I said, I was called "deeply depressed" and "disturbing" and told pills are the answer.
Know what I find disturbing? The knee-jerk reaction to suggest pills to someone expressing periodic sadness. I realize that pills have worked for millions of people, including my husband and I think that's great. I also think that people, Americans especially, have been trained to believe that the pursuit of happiness (or even just the avoidance of sadness) is the ultimate life quest. It's in the Declaration of Independence, for godsakes, so it must be one of life's top goals. But I'm not buying it. I think that, just like stick figure supermodels convince us we're never thin enough, the importance placed on being happy all of the time leads us to believe our natural sadness is wrong. We end up feeling lonely when we don't feel the happy that everyone else is feeling, or pretending to feel. A lot of us end up feeling like we're broken and need pills to fix ourselves.
Sadness is as much a part of life as happiness. As self-described psychologist and social researcher, Hugh Mackay, said in the comments on yesterday's post, "The idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying 'write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep' and 'cheer up' and 'happiness is our birthright' and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position - it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say 'Quick! Move on! Cheer up!' I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word 'happiness' and to replace it with the word 'wholeness'. Ask yourself 'is this contributing to my wholeness?' and if you’re having a bad day, it is."
Preach it, bother.
You there, sitting behind your monitor or scrolling through your phone reading this; are you happy all the time? Most of the time? And even when you are happy, do your demons still nip quietly at your ankles? Do you have a case of the blahs today? Do you feel overwhelmed by life sometimes? Do your bills stress you out? Does the news depress you? What about the world's sickening focus on celebrity? Do all the people behaving badly on reality shows give you anxiety? Do you worry if you're on the Internet too much? Did you have a fight with your spouse last night? Are you still not speaking? Guess what? ME FUCKING TOO.
It's okay. It's normal. You aren't broken. Pills aren't necessarily the answer. You might just be ebbing in the flow of life. It's par for the course. You can't ride the roller coaster without going up, down and sometimes even upside down. Yesterday I shared a down. Tomorrow I'll share an up. If you want to read a blog so bright you gotta wear shades, you're on the wrong site. That ain't ever gonna happen here.
You can read about the abortion I had at seventeen. You can read about my ill-advised relationship with an older, married man. You can read about my attempts to discover my sexuality. You can read about the time I crapped my pants in the park. You will hear about the time I hit our car with a shovel and you'll read about the petty arguments too. You will hear about the times I'm so depressed. You can read about the times I'm content. If you find the depressing stuff depressing move along! Or leave a comment and expect a response. In a world of heavily moderated comments I continue to publish every, single comment on this site - unless it's ridiculously inappropriate - so I welcome the discourse. I have been so appreciative of all the amazing feedback given to me by readers over the years but sometimes, if a comment doesn't sit right with me or I feel someone has completely misconstrued what I wrote, I'll respond.
So if, like me, you're interested in exploring the range of emotions every, single one of us experience in life, talking about life the way it really is and what we can learn from it, then pull-up a chair, stick around and let's talk about the pursuit of wholeness.
In other words: LIFE. IS. AWESOME.
Shiny, happy, people living their lives. Every mundane event photographed and photoshopped into happy, bright colors so unnatural your retinas revolt. Here is what we did, here is what we wore, here is what we bought, here is what you should buy. God forbid anyone share a real feeling; a fight with a husband, how they're stuck in a lull, how parenthood isn't all they thought it would be or otherwise type against the tide of shiny happiness because they'll get picked apart or analyzed to fucking death on some website where that kind of thing goes down. Or in the comments of their own blog. For what it's worth, I'm okay with the analyzing, it's as legitimate a part of the Internet as the shit being analyzed but, in the end, being scrutinized and analyzed with an extra large helping of snark has had a pretty detrimental effect on personal blogging.
Many of the good bloggers who used to share the sad, happy, scary, weird, crazy, stupid details of their lives are very obviously toning it down for fear of backlash. I understand. I've been on the receiving end of the backlash for many years and have definitely experienced great chunks of time where I felt so self-conscious as a result of the snarky comments about myself that I edited a lot of what I shared because I was so afraid of what some anonymous commenters had to say. It can be paralyzing. Even when you've been doing this for years.
Instead of heartfelt posts wherein someone divulges their deepest darkest secrets that just might help the rest of us feel a little less alone in similar situations we get collages of what to get for Father's Day. I don't want collages! I've got a billionty-five collages at my fingertips right over there on the Pinterest and the website I write for, Babble. I don't need your gift ideas, either. They're the same ones as on the aforementioned sites or on that other blog I just read because I don't know why and, by the way, do you honestly think I'm spending more than $100 tops on a gift? Fucksakes.
I want to hear about the fight you had with your spouse last night and the ever-changing complexities of your relationship or the fact that you suspect your ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend is stalking you or how you wonder if you're drinking too much or even how you ate an entire box of Pop Tarts for breakfast. Sometimes I want to see your bedroom makeover and your photos from your vacation but most of the time I just want you, unfiltered. That's why I started reading!
You are cordially invited to point me in the direction of any bloggers still intelligently, humorously and articulately laying it on the line instead of trying to portray the perfect person because those are the blogs I want to read. Those are the blogs that make me feel a little bit less alone in the continual struggle to feel fulfilled. And I don't mind sharing my struggle. I don't mind sharing the highs and lows, even when I get called "depressing" and "repetitive" like I was yesterday because it's part of life. If I write post after post here trying to be everything to everyone than I have failed in everything I meant to do when I started this blog; connect with other people going through the same shit I do.
This site, for better or worse, is a chronicle of the past nearly ten years of my life. From marrying a guy I barely knew to moving to New York City, landing my dream job, making new friends, my journey into motherhood and officially removing myself from the Mormon church record books and our eventual move to the home in which we want to raise our kids. I've shared my greatest joys with you, my lowest lows and the most embarrassing moments of my life so when someone decides to tell me "Carry on with whatever point you are trying to make with these kinds of posts. I used to read you, and then the repetitiveness of do I drink too much, I don't think I drink too much, am I crazy, maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm depressed, no I'm not depressed started being depressing to read" I decided to respond. The comment really bothered me.
Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm depressed, I am insecure, I hate myself sometimes - this is what life is about. Figuring yourself out and trying to make it better. Do you have it all figured out? Or do you struggle with some of the same shit over and over and over again? Sometimes you get over one thing only to replace it with a new thing you need to work on. This is life. What do you really expect when you come to read this blog? I want to know. Do you want me to sand down the rough edges of my life so that you get an uplifting read every day? Bible quotes? Stuart Smalley affirmations? Would you rather I not wonder aloud if I'm drinking too much or open the closet and introduce you to the skeleton that is my occasionally debilitating insecurity and self-hatred? Would you rather I pretend like my marriage is the most amazing union since Prince Charming slid the glass slipper onto Cinderella's perfectly manicured foot?
Yesterday you got a post about my self-hatred, today you get this rant and tomorrow you get vacation photos that will make my life seem as perfect as the person who posts Father's Day gift idea collages. Next week you might get a post about how complex my relationship is with my dad. Who the fuck knows? But, just like I told a commenter yesterday, don't like it, don't read. I don't say that to be a "bitch" as I was immediately called, I say that because it seems like a completely rational response to someone telling me they dislike my blog because it's depressing and repetitive so they don't read it anymore but, oh hey, I just popped back in to tell you how disturbed you are. Why are you here? CHANGE THE CHANNEL.
I wrote yesterday's post in an attempt to articulate a low-grade self-hatred I've had for most of my life. It flares up every now and then and I usually manage to tamp it out with the self-confidence I have in certain areas of life. It's a constant balance. Something I think we all deal with on one level or another and so I wanted to share it with you. Like I said, I was called "deeply depressed" and "disturbing" and told pills are the answer.
Know what I find disturbing? The knee-jerk reaction to suggest pills to someone expressing periodic sadness. I realize that pills have worked for millions of people, including my husband and I think that's great. I also think that people, Americans especially, have been trained to believe that the pursuit of happiness (or even just the avoidance of sadness) is the ultimate life quest. It's in the Declaration of Independence, for godsakes, so it must be one of life's top goals. But I'm not buying it. I think that, just like stick figure supermodels convince us we're never thin enough, the importance placed on being happy all of the time leads us to believe our natural sadness is wrong. We end up feeling lonely when we don't feel the happy that everyone else is feeling, or pretending to feel. A lot of us end up feeling like we're broken and need pills to fix ourselves.
Sadness is as much a part of life as happiness. As self-described psychologist and social researcher, Hugh Mackay, said in the comments on yesterday's post, "The idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying 'write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep' and 'cheer up' and 'happiness is our birthright' and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position - it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say 'Quick! Move on! Cheer up!' I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word 'happiness' and to replace it with the word 'wholeness'. Ask yourself 'is this contributing to my wholeness?' and if you’re having a bad day, it is."
Preach it, bother.
You there, sitting behind your monitor or scrolling through your phone reading this; are you happy all the time? Most of the time? And even when you are happy, do your demons still nip quietly at your ankles? Do you have a case of the blahs today? Do you feel overwhelmed by life sometimes? Do your bills stress you out? Does the news depress you? What about the world's sickening focus on celebrity? Do all the people behaving badly on reality shows give you anxiety? Do you worry if you're on the Internet too much? Did you have a fight with your spouse last night? Are you still not speaking? Guess what? ME FUCKING TOO.
It's okay. It's normal. You aren't broken. Pills aren't necessarily the answer. You might just be ebbing in the flow of life. It's par for the course. You can't ride the roller coaster without going up, down and sometimes even upside down. Yesterday I shared a down. Tomorrow I'll share an up. If you want to read a blog so bright you gotta wear shades, you're on the wrong site. That ain't ever gonna happen here.
You can read about the abortion I had at seventeen. You can read about my ill-advised relationship with an older, married man. You can read about my attempts to discover my sexuality. You can read about the time I crapped my pants in the park. You will hear about the time I hit our car with a shovel and you'll read about the petty arguments too. You will hear about the times I'm so depressed. You can read about the times I'm content. If you find the depressing stuff depressing move along! Or leave a comment and expect a response. In a world of heavily moderated comments I continue to publish every, single comment on this site - unless it's ridiculously inappropriate - so I welcome the discourse. I have been so appreciative of all the amazing feedback given to me by readers over the years but sometimes, if a comment doesn't sit right with me or I feel someone has completely misconstrued what I wrote, I'll respond.
So if, like me, you're interested in exploring the range of emotions every, single one of us experience in life, talking about life the way it really is and what we can learn from it, then pull-up a chair, stick around and let's talk about the pursuit of wholeness.






Girls Just Wanna Have Fun