They said things like… You will LOVE it! The message is so powerful. It’s a game changer.
Less than a handful of pages in, I thought things like… This is cringe worthy. I’m having trouble reading with the incessant eye rolling I’m doing. Just, no.
Several acquaintances recently recommended a new book. I’m not gonna tell you the title, because honestly, being an author myself, I just can’t bring myself to do it, and…it’s irrelevant. It will suffice to say it is in the self-help, motivational, inspirational genre— which is right up my ally—and the endorsements were shining.
I began reading…and…just, no.
No. No. Hell no. No.
My mind reeled, “What is wrong with me that the message(s) of this book feel so wrong? Why do other women, women I know and respect, think it’s great, and I think its garbage? WT actual F?
These thoughts rolled around in my head for days.
I tried to keep reading.
The message and voice grated more with each new chapter. There was a critical moment when the author made a statement that so conflicts with some visceral, essential part of me that I just could NOT read any more.
It truly bothered me that I was apparently at extreme odds with the people in my life who recommended the book. Are we really that different?
Now, had this been a fiction novel, or even a non-fiction history/biography, I’d likely have no problem being at odds. I’ve had little issue agreeing to disagree about books in my book clubs etc.
But this…this was a how-to-be-your-best-self-motivational-girls-go-kick-some-ass book. Why couldn’t I get on board?
I waded through my feelings. I sat with my thoughts.
And I finally realized…
This is not the message I need to hear right now. This just isn’t for me.
It sounds so simple. Maybe it is? Perhaps it is painfully obvious to everyone but me? Yet, KA-POW. When that idea seeped in for me, it’s packed a wallop.
How often in my life have I struggled to make fit what wasn’t right for me? God knows, there were years when I kept the “it’s gonna fit someday” clothes in my closet, just like there were years when I kept the “it doesn’t feel right to me, but I want to be like them/her/whoever” ideas in my head. How many figurative and literal outfits have I tried to uncomfortably wear, struggled to keep on, forced to fit, or berated myself for not being able to fit into?
Too many. And no more.
Call the newspaper and put up the signs. It’s garage sale time. Those clothes and all those ideas…it’s time for them to go. Maybe they’ll serve someone else?
They just aren’t what I need right now.