7 thoughts on “my guess is as good as yours.”

1. Good post, Meg. I like what you came to (and yes, you did come to something) but I must disagree to some extent on the self-help books. It wasn’t until I needed one myself that I saw their value. Before that I was with you in thinking they were all a bunch of hooey. Don’t read about getting better, just get better!

   BUT, then I was at a point where I couldn’t just help myself. There was no one to learn by example from. Not even therapy could help. And then I picked up this book called “Making Peace with Food”. The author seemed to know exactly what I had been through. And about halfway through the book and the exercises, she answered my question which was: how do I let this (obsession) go?

   And the answer was so simple: when you’re ready, you just will. And I just did. After that I stopped needing the book and I did make my peace with food. (Then I just had the depression to deal with…). But anyways, self help books? Not all bad.

2. All we can do is know our own experiences, I guess.:)

   I think the kind of book you’re talking about is a lot different than the stuff I am put off by, though. It’s HUGE promises that bug me, or easy fixes, or “This worked for me, it WILL work for you” stuff — I don’t think your book or your realization fits that template at all.:)

3. I look at the self-help books from time to time, buy them once in a while, and mostly get nothing from them. I think, if anything, the self-help books help because they make you realize you aren’t alone. I find that the ones that do help–ones I’ve read about being a motherless daughter, for example, help because they’re more or less a collection of anecdotes–and seeing/hearing someone else’s story helps put mine in perspective.

   When I taught, I was one of those teachers that was dedicated to experiential learning. I wanted my kids to dive in and get dirty–while I was their guide and mirror. I was the one being brave first, and they’d follow me in–but I wouldn’t let them fall off the deep-end. For me, that’s what teaching is: taking the risk for your kids–making the things you’ve learned safe to be experienced on a small scale. Ultimately, though, I found that my kids were terrified–were told time and time again that they knew nothing. So, at every turn, they’d look for reassurance from me–for more guidance than they needed. And the hardest thing of all for me to learn was that, even when I had all the answers, it was better for me to withhold them sometimes.

   Because, ultimately, we already know. I can fool myself into thinking I don’t…that I need some guidance for what to do. But, really, the only expert on my life is me. The only person who can answer the question in the way that makes the most sense to me is me. All a teacher can do is give me enough rope to hang myself with. And, even if I don’t get it at first, eventually I will. It may just take me years to realize that I’m ready. As soon as I convince myself of that, it’ll happen.

   This reminds me of when I was a little kid. I was never athletically inclined and was always the last one picked. I had asthma, was uncoordinated and overweight. I hated gym with a passion. And, one day, my teacher told me to jump over a pole. I had seen people do it a million times before. And I didn’t think I could. I tried a few times to do it and, of course, failed miserbly. Then, one day, I stopped caring. I was sure I would fall down. I was sure that I’d get dirt all over myself. And then, I said to myself, “It doesn’t matter.” And so, I jumped….and didn’t fall down. I set a class record that day, too.

4. I like this. I like it a lot.

5. I have a couple philosophies on this.

   First, people that write books are generally much more organized in their thinking and easily more driven than me, or they’d never have the gumption to write a book. If I were ever to write a self-help book it would be titled “How not to write a self-help book”. But that’s just me. Which brings me to my next philosophy.

   I’m just me and you’re just you. I’ve never spent one second of my life being anyone but me. I grew up with six siblings who sat around the same dinner table, did the same chores (alternately, of course), ate the same meals, had the same parents who gave us all similar parenting and yet we are all very different from each other. We are all, as humans, very different from each other. I can only ascertain what I know of you through MY grid and who am I to say for certain that I’m even close to accurate in my gleanings. So, when asked for advice or judgments, I always lead with, “Nothing is for sure, and I surely am not an expert, and I’ve never been you, but this sorta worked for me…” Because truly, who am I to give concrete answers to a very different soul? Unless of course it’s Portland Cement you’re talking about.

6. John, I can tell you from experience, most of the people writing self-help books (and Dummies books, and a lot of non fiction) aren’t the people who actually wrote those books. I’ve edited portions of two in the past year that the “author” didn’t touch until after final draft.

   Driven, maybe. But organized? Nah, editors are the organized ones.:)

7. Oh,yes.

   I call them “shelf-help books” because they end up on the shelf.

   The thing is, everyone’s experience is different. (Duh!) So one person’s process that works for them and maybe for a few clients becomes a book – but that doesn’t mean it’s going to work for everyone.

   But then the people who buy the book feel like they’re wrong because it doesn’t work for them. And, like, hey, the author is an EXPERT, after all.

   Yeah. In the end, as you say, it’s just about being. As you say in your example of teaching, it’s about living what you want to teach.

   That’s the best teaching of all!