2002-01-08

Chicken Soup for the Genius

"How do you feel about affirmations?" my therapist asks the other day.

"I hate them and I think they're wicked stupid," I reply. She wants me to be more honest about my feelings. Don't ask me why.

We're trying to get to the root of....something. My crummy self-esteem. The feelings of panic that were leading me to perhaps drink a tiny bit more than was good for me. So she asks me how I feel about affirmations: waking up in the morning and telling myself what a good person I really, truly am. So I tell her: I think they're a candy-assed way of dealing with things. I really said "candy-assed" in front of her. I quickly add that I have decided that drinking my weight in Jim Beam is also not really the best way to handle things.

I detect a smirk.

I am just too much of a snide, bitter little spore to drape myself in that "I'm O.K., you're O.K." type of thinking. I'm not O.K., and because of that, I really don't have the time or patience to figure out whether or not you are, okay?

I find it horrifying that the "self-help" section of your average bookstore is at least three times as large as the Drama or Classics section. And at least half of the self-help section these days is made up of those stultifyingly insipid "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books. Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Golfer's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Vegetarian's Soul.

My inner child runs with scissors.

I sweat the small stuff. Frequently.

I ask my therapist, "What if I were to just go around saying, �Goddamn, I'm a friggin' GENIUS.' Could that be considered an affirmation, sort of?"

"Well, yes."

"Good. Then that'll be my affirmation. Except maybe I'll revise it; I think I should tell myself that I'm a �fucking genius,' instead. Yeah. I could live with that."

She's earning her money with me, she is.

lisamcc at 1:43 p.m.

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