Riding the freight-train of f*&!-yeah

My journey into the self-help aisles of bookstores began several years ago in a sincere effort to better understand myself and correct tendencies to self-sabotage and become a gigantic ball of neurotic anxiousness in a few areas of my life.  I’ve read books that were utter bullshit and I’ve read others that prompted massive, positive leaps forward.  I’ve learned to meditate. I’ve connected with my inner child.  I’ve practiced pattern disruption and learned about the chemistry of the brain.  I’ve dabbled in all the sub-genres, binging on spirituality, self-improvement, and psychology titles.  I’ve kept dream journals.  I’ve hired coaches.  I’ve gone to psychics and astrologists.  I’ve tried, and failed, to spend an entire day without saying  a word.  I’ve gone to seminars and sat in rooms full of people amped up on self-helpery, wondering if I had become one of them.

Self-help junkies are generally a growth-oriented bunch.  They’re either struggling to overcome blocks in their lives or they’re seeking ways to take their lives to new levels of awesome.  I’ve fallen into both of these categories at different times.  I’ve always been growth-seeking, going at it (and sometimes failing) in a way that only an obsessive, perfectionist, Virgo can.

There are a few common threads that tend to run through the great self-help/self-improvement books that I’ve read, the most important of which is understanding the power of positive thinking and the law of attraction (these two concepts are really one in the same).  These have been hard-learned for me because, left to my own devices, I can be a worrier.  Worry is rooted in fear, which is by far the most destructive and negative emotion one can have.  When I start to stumble down the path of worry, I have to engage in a big pattern disrupt or else it’s easy to find myself spiraling into a crazy vortex of irrational if-then thinking, working myself into panic over events as likely to happen as a snowstorm in the desert.

I found myself tip-toeing down the rabbit hole of worry after my recent surgery to remove a small melanoma.  As I sat in my dermatologist’s office, getting ready to have a big flap of skin cut from my forearm, the nurse who was prepping me prattled on and on about how deadly melanoma is, sharing encouraging stories about all the patients she’s known who have died from melanoma.  Her bedside manner was impeccable.  I knew melanoma was no joke, but I’d also told myself there was no reason for me to lose my cool over it; we’d caught it very early, I am cautious in the sun, and I get regular skin exams.  But after the wonderful pep-talk from my reassuring nurse, I began worrying.  Not just about skin cancer, but all of the other possible things that could be, at that very moment, going absolutely haywire in my body.

So yesterday, I decided to stop myself from plummeting into the void of worry by indulging in a little self-helpery.

I was listening to Jen Sincero’s book, “You are a badass,” while on a bike ride in the morning.  She’s great.  The book is witty, in-your-face, awesomeness.  She said something (she’s also the narrator for the audiobook) about attitude that made me hit pause on my health freakout.  She was stressing the importance of having fun in life, of being playful and not taking everything so seriously.  She explained, “There’s nothing as unstoppable as a freight-train of fuck-yeah.”

A freight-train of fuck-yeah.  I like that.

Jen was talking about how powerful we are when we’re in that creative space of kick-assness, gleefully skipping around with big goofy grins on our faces, totally caught up in the joy and excitement of whatever we’re working on, giving no fucks about what anyone else thinks about it.  Whoooo-whoooooooo!

I’ve ridden the freight train of fuck-yeah many times but I always hop off at some point to resume my otherwise responsible life of adulting.  The thing is, when I’m on that train, everything in my life seems to effortlessly fall into place.  Awesome just happens.  Doors open, people appear, opportunities present themselves.  I don’t have to strong-arm anything into happening, I just have to stay on the train and let the universe work out the details for me.  And every time I’ve ridden the train in the past, I have thought to myself, “I don’t ever want to get off this thing!”

But I do — society is a bitch that will drag you back into the bullshit of worry and stress if don’t pay attention.  But what’s the point of anything in life if you’re not having fun?  I refuse to believe that we all came here to work ourselves to the bone, generate income, get old and die of stress-related illnesses.  No, that can’t be it.  It also can’t be about killing ourselves in ho-hum 9-to-5 jobs, five days a week so we can spend our weekends in drunken stupors and drag ourselves back to the office on Monday morning to repeat the same mundane cycle.

No.  I think life is about spending as much time as possible on the freight-train of fuck-yeah.  So I decided to hop back on yesterday.  I mean, why not? It’s way better than the freight-train of fear and worry.  I’m resuming my focus on projects that excite me and stripping it from things beyond my control.

The great thing is, there’s plenty of room. Hop on 😉