Self-Help . . . Or Not

I hate self-help books. In all their various forms and iterations. I don't like authors telling me that I just need to adopt this certain methodology to attain organization or develop these seven habits in order to become an "effective person" (whatever that means).

So why now was I standing in Borders, choking back tears, in front of that shelf in the Religious/Inspirational section, desperately searching for . . . What? Something, anything.

Because, to tell you the truth, I'm tired and I need help.

I'm tired of my husband feeling like he needs to act like my mother and my father. My mother, because somehow I managed to not learn how to feed myself, and so he has to try to scrounge up a meal for me on top of working full-time and completing his Bachelor's degree. My father, because I still can't manage to drag my ass out of bed in the morning to make it to work on time, and so he has to set two alarms and poke and nag and beg to get me up and getting around.

I'm twenty-four, for crying out loud, I should have at least these two things down by now.

I'm tired of hanging my head in shame when I hear "She's so organized", because I know the truth. The reason I carry that notebook in my purse is because I can't remember everything any more, and I got tired of constantly losing the napkins, envelopes and receipts I was writing those notes on.

And frankly, I'm fed up with being tired of these things, because nothing ever changes.

Hubby and I had just had a heated discussion (read argument) about my inability to feed myself. That was followed by a chapel message about hearing the voice of God, not merely listening to it.

As I was dutifully heading out to find something to eat, I felt that prompting. Go to Border's. You need some help. You can't do this by yourself.

The image of myself standing in that dreaded section of the store, thumbing through "The Seven Habits of Highly-Effective People", flashed through my head. What? Abba, you know I hate those books. I rolled my eyes, but turned towards the mall (maybe I am learning something). Well, there's a Starbucks there so I can grab some lunch and a coffee. And I can get those birthday cards I need at Border's. Maybe I'll go look at the books... I don't have to buy anything.

After picking out the cards I needed and a new journal to go along with . . . What? I'll just put it back if I don't find anything, I headed over for the Christian book section. As much as I detest the whole idea of picking out a book to begin with, the thought of trying to endure a bunch of psychobabble from psuedopsychologist who thinks that my problem is that I was potty trained too early, made it seem unbearable. At least a Christian will know that change without the Holy Spirit is impossible.

I soon found myself scanning a shelf full of imposing hard-cover books with titles like "Reposition Yourself: Living Life Without Limits", "Uncommon: Finding Your Path to Significance" and the like. Then my eye fell on a bright pink paperback. Only Nuns Change Habits Overnight. It made me chuckle, so I picked it up. I flipped it over to find, "The Best-Selling Author of Chocolatherapy". I knew the reason I had been sent to Border's.

Before I cracked open the book, I knew I had found a kindred spirit. This is a woman who gets me. Who understands what it's like to remember that "typewriter" is the longest word you can spell with the letters from the top row on the keyboard and to spend fifteen minutes searching for the pair of shoes she just took off last night.

Heaven knows, I've tried this before. But maybe, taking this journey with a woman who has never met me, but knows me all too well, and the help of the Holy Spirit, just maybe, I'll be able to move on from this place I've been stuck for too long.