An Ordinary Life

An Ordinary Life

Lately I find myself longing for an ordinary life.

On any given day, we all face so much pressure to be extraordinary. Social media scrolling can give us a case of the “less-thans”, the news entices us to drink, the job market feels hopeless and we wonder if we are doing enough to stand out from the crowd and be noticed.

It’s bloody exhausting.

I just finished reading Mark Manson’s book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck. So many of his ideas resonated on a deep level, offering a lovely echo chamber of my own curated thoughts, but the section on being ordinary was particularly timely. If you are looking for a short, profane and meaningful read, I highly recommend it.

What if we simply opted out of trying to be amazing and instead learned to be content with being good enough? As our world gets louder, I long for quiet. When other people broadcast their accomplishments around the clock on social media, I yearn for humility and privacy.

It’s okay to want less. To decide that who you are and what you accomplish doesn’t need national (or even local) acclaim. Wouldn’t it be lovely to just exist, in our own families and with our friends, and truly believe that everything we eat, say, do, watch, read and think does not belong on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or a blog?

Something interesting is happening in our culture right now, with the attention on Zuckerberg and questions about privacy. For years I’ve been saying in my digital boundary presentation (and to anyone else who cares) that privacy is going to be our most valuable currency in the years to come. I believe it to the core of my soul.

So the question becomes: what are we doing to safeguard our own privacy? How do we take back control of our own unique and precious lives?

I’m bone weary of wasting my time on the crack cocaine of social media. I post less and less but I still scroll far too much. I’m afraid of what’s coming and I’m trying to summon the courage to close it down and walk away. I know I would be happier if I did exactly that but then how would I stay in touch with people? How would readers find me as a writer?

I’m not sure those fears outweigh the cost of what social media has done to my sense of identity, my jealousy over the success of others when I am struggling, my own raging insecurities that leap to the forefront when I give myself over to something that has the power to repeatedly hurt me.

The answer is not yet clear to me, but I’m committed to asking these questions until I decide what’s really best for me. How do the rest of you handle social media and your digital lives? I know I’m not alone in longing for an ordinary, private existence. I’d love to hear from you.

The Flashlight of Criticism

The Flashlight of Criticism

When we face criticism, we can spiral down in a funnel of shame, feeling less-than and outed for pretending to be better than we really are.

Or maybe that’s just me, because possibly my childhood was not as stellar as yours.

I know it’s unhealthy to attach my self-worth to my performance. These things are my products: writing, speaking, acting, grades; my identity is something different. This distinction is oh-so-clear in my head and not so obvious in my experience.

Everything in the arts is subjective. One person loves what you’ve written or taught, and the next person thinks it’s boring and useless. As a writer, I’ve volunteered to be criticized to try to make my work stronger and more effective. In a cold, clinical setting, I do understand this.

But in my heart it’s something different. Being told what is “wrong” with my manuscript is painful in some intricate way. It reminds me of how far I have yet to go to make my dreams into reality. I do realize that all writers face this. I’ve been through classes and writers’ groups before, processing negative feedback, but I still hurt at first.

Maybe it’s time to just allow this. To feel it, and not to attempt to rationalize it away or explain it. Some feedback wounds because we have more internal healing work to do. The criticism is a flashlight revealing our hidden chasms where shame and fear lurk in the darkness.

The key might be to reach out to the cheerleaders in our lives when we get knocked down. To ask for love and support so we can summon the energy to keep going, to continue believing that we are onto something as long as we don’t quit. Rough work is better than no work when it comes to creativity. Revisions exist to fix the little things.

I’m loving the process of working on this new YA novel. I don’t want to forget that. It’s fun to write, even if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s the book I longed to find on the shelf when I was 15 years old and that kind of passion is worth pursuing.

Often a pain that doesn’t fit with the circumstances is an indication that an old wound is being disturbed. That’s what I felt last week through a workshop round of mild criticism: a very old childhood fear that I am simply not good enough to compete in the arena I want to work in. The only way to combat this is to keep going anyway. To feel it, acknowledge it, cry a few tears, and then get back to work.

Talking is not Trying

Talking is not Trying

I finally watched The Glass Castle and burst into tears when Jeannette says to her dad, “Talking is not trying.” It struck so close to home that something primal in me rose up to meet this simple piece of dialogue. The whole exchange vibrated with truth.

My dad died sixteen years ago this spring. I was twenty-nine. It seems so long ago now, and in other ways it still feels fresh and recent. Like Jeannette’s father in The Glass Castle, mine was an alcoholic. He also struggled with mental illness in the form of bipolar disorder.

When dad died, he was alone, estranged from his ex-wife and his three adult children. I hung in there with him longer than my siblings, but our relationship was one hell of a wild roller coaster ride. I have no doubt that he was filled with regret at the time of his passing. He longed to be healthier and more stable, but simply couldn’t find the keys to that particular combination.

Viewing the ending of The Glass Castle, when Jeannette decides to go see her dying father, was a powerful catharsis moment for me. I recognized just how far I have come in these last sixteen years to forgive my dad and actually feel grateful for the lessons I learned through my difficult relationship with him.

I can see what he gave me, through his genes but also through his behaviour. And like Jeannette, I can agree that talking is not trying, even though I can see now that my dad did try. He just wasn’t able to succeed.

The point of the line in the movie is that talk is cheap. Action is what counts and what matters. Understanding this has changed me for the better, for I expect more than words now from those I love. It’s not enough to simply have good intentions. There has to be behaviour that matches the promises and the hype. Without the actions, all you are left with is lies. And a shit-ton of resentment.

I wish now that I could sit down with my dad over a cup of coffee and tell him that I have no more hard feelings. Forgiveness for me has been a long and exhausting road, but I can see that I have made significant progress. Talking is not trying, and when I was younger I needed much more than fancy words. I needed something that he simply was not capable of providing. And now it feels good to let that go.

But it’s still okay to admit that I needed a better dad. I think I’ll long for that until the day I die, but I’ve made peace with that desire. Now I know how to get what I need, from myself and from others who are healthy, to ensure that I can actually receive real love and care. I’ve found people whose actions do match up to their words. It’s not just talk anymore. The trying makes all the difference.

Your Little Corner

Your Little Corner

I honestly don’t know what to say anymore. People are being slaughtered weekly with assault rifles in our neighbour to the south and those in power have zero interest in doing anything about it. The president lies, every single day, and on top of that makes racist, misogynist and offensive comments and faces no real consequences for any of it.

My rage is on a slow boil and has been for a long time, but it’s wearing me down. I feel bruised, deep in my soul, and hopeless that nothing is changing. This is not the world I want my kids to grow up in, but I can’t fix these massive problems.

What I can do is focus on my own little corner. You have one too. The people and the pets and the hobbies that you love reside here. You can look after them (and this includes your own beautiful self). You can grow a flower or bake a delicious cake. You can watch a movie or a TV show that helps you escape the horror of the world or gently ushers you toward a fresh outlook. You can read a book that has the power to transform you.

I’ve been making my way through Hillary Clinton’s book, What Happened, and as excellent as it is, I had to stop reading for a bit as what could have been was simply too raw. (Side note: If you don’t like HRC, you are welcome to your opinion, but I don’t want to hear it right now. She is being unfairly bashed online constantly and I’m not allowing that nonsense on my watch).

For a break from real-world pain, I picked up a People magazine borrowed from the library and put it down immediately after reading the headline “Taking Down a Hollywood Predator” with Harvey Weinstein’s mug front and centre. No thanks. More suffering in the form of patriarchy gone wild with power and abuse. I needed something else to inch back toward hope in humankind.

Thankfully, the brilliant Celeste Ng’s newest novel, Little Fires Everywhere, was in for me on the hold shelf. I raced to the library to get it, having just finished her debut, Everything I Never Told You, which broke my heart but in such a healing and redemptive manner. If you haven’t read Celeste Ng, please put these two books at the top of your TBR pile. Her talent is awe-inspiring.

This brings me back to my little corner. I’m finding it really, really, really challenging to write blogs right now. Everything I want to say is too raw and unfiltered – too brutal for human consumption. I start to type it and I can’t get it to sound right. So I backpedal and feel like I’ve failed. I know I’m not adding anything meaningful to the conversation. But maybe that’s okay. Perhaps what I’m meant to do in this god-awful time is just to say, “I’m here too. I’m hurting, just like you. Let’s look after ourselves and our loved ones.”

Anne Lamott tells a story in one of her books about planting a certain type of tulip that only blooms for a few days each spring. She was complaining to a friend about it, saying, “What is the point of all that work to only enjoy the flowers for 4 or 5 days?” Her friend’s answer? “The point is those 4 or 5 days.”

I’d like that lesson to patch up my hope so I can keep going. It doesn’t seem like enough. But when it’s all we have, perhaps that will have to do. I’m going to tend to my little corner while you tend to yours. Maybe, just maybe, it will temporarily brighten up the world and help us find the solutions we need for harmony, peace and optimism again.

Summer Book Recommendations

Summer Book Recommendations

Summer is here and I’ve been reading so many incredible books that I thought I’d recommend a few of them in case you are looking for something to read on your deck, at the beach or on vacation. I’ve also been watching some fabulous TV and going to the cinema a lot these last few weeks so maybe I’ll do posts on what to watch as well.

But for now, let’s focus on reading. Here are some terrific summer reads for you, in a variety of genres and styles:

I’ve been a fan of John Grisham forever, so I read every single thing he publishes. Even I can admit that his last few books have been misses more than hits, but Camino Island is a winner.

The plot focuses on rare books, jealous writers and summer living on a Florida island with a little bit of the FBI thrown in so it feels like a Grisham novel. This one is light and fun and tailor-made for me and my literary tastes.

 

Roxane Gay is an incredible writer. Bad Feminist was a favourite read for me and I’ve only just begun Hunger and I’m in love with it.

Her voice is raw, honest and compelling. She tackles the painful, embarrassing, hard topics that many wouldn’t go near. She is my hero – courageous, authentic, vulnerable and willing to take down the walls to show you who she really is.

 

Rich People Problems is about as much fun as you can have reading a book. This is the third book in Kevin Kwan’s fabulous trilogy about ultra-rich Asians.

It’s a peek into a culture I know nothing about and it’s ridiculously fun to dwell in this wild world for a few days.

Don’t start with this one – be sure to read Crazy Rich Asians and China Rich Girlfriend first, but then you’ll definitely enjoy this in your beach bag.

 

This book taught me so much. It draws a parallel between the events leading up to Nazi Germany and the state of our world today.

In 20 brief lessons, Timothy Snyder lays out the signs of tyranny and teaches us what to watch for and how best to react in order to fight the authoritarian mindset.

It’s an important read, particularly in these troubling times.

 

I had serious trouble putting this book down. Lisa Ko’s use of language is so elegant and compelling. The story she weaves is beautiful, stirring and remarkable.

As a debut, this book blew me away. It’s a story of a complicated mother and her son, spanning many years as the boy grows up and they work to find their way back to each other.

 

At the beginning of the summer I also read The Circle by Dave Eggers (it’s not new as it came out in 2013 but a movie was just made based on the book starring Emma Watson which I haven’t seen). It’s a dystopian book that does a beautiful job warning us of current and upcoming digital dangers. I really liked it.

And in case I haven’t already bored you with this in person or on social media, if you haven’t read Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty (published in 2014), please drop everything and start reading. You’ll be glad you did. I don’t really read murder mysteries but this one is exceptional. And the HBO show with Reese Witherspoon is supposed to be amazing, too.

There’s so much good stuff out there! Here are the next 3 titles I’m reading:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you reading this summer? Have you read any of these? Do tell!