Feel the fear – and dismiss the whole bloody thing anyway

Very disappointing and sneering piece on Woman’s Hour today. The self-help tome by Susan Jeffers, Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway is 20 years old, and the question posed was “Is Feel the Fear a feminist classic”?

The contributors were pretty damning (Historian Mary Beard criticised it for being too “upbeat” and unrealistic and the editor of Men’s Health said it was only read by neurotics who watch cable TV <ahem, and all the readers of his magazine which sells thanks to the gym-buffed naked torso on the cover are perfectly emotionally adapted>). Even journalist Helen Rumbelow, who was arguing in favour of the case, sounded apologetic as she explained that <whisper> some women had made empowering steps to improve their as a result of reading the book. And that it contributed to changing the way women (and the male readers, who are conveniently forgotten in the debate) viewed themselves, regardless of the way they had been brought up and the influences to which they had or hadn’t been exposed as a child.

Fortunately, a lot of listeners emailed in in support of the book (maybe a reminder to programme makers that media types do not always accurately represent public opinion). The fact is, yes it is very American and can grate a bit if you’re used to more downbeat literature. But why throw the baby out with the bathwater?

The central message (that it is only through meeting our fears head on and getting out of our comfort zone that we can really grow as people) is relevant and useful. Jeffers advocates taking risks and avoiding the trap of being too careful about life. Her book has sold millions because it strikes a chord with many people who are no longer happy to live being ruled by anxiety.

Self-help has become a much-maligned genre, due to the number of bonkers books that have somehow become bestsellers (such as The Rules or He’s Just Not That Into You). But when there is a book that is widely acknowledged to have helped so many people live richer and more fulfilling lives, why ignore it and lump it in with all the bad eggs? It’s easy to sneer, but it’s not big or clever.

I’ll get through the day…maybe

The day started irritatingly early. The baby, for once, did not wake during the night, but decided to get up for the day at 5.30. Which, since I’d not got to sleep until midnight, was not ideal. I know there are plenty of mothers who survive on much less (broken) sleep per night – and I’m as guilty of the sleep-deprivation one-upmanship game as the next person – but on top of some really crappy nights, it felt like too much.

Our toddler is a very light sleeper, and as I fed the baby, I began my usual mantra of, “I hope he gets back to sleep, I hope he doesn’t wake his brother”, and listened acutely for any sounds coming from the adjoining bedroom. For some reason, I remembered something I’d read in one of the million self-help books I’ve amassed over the years (see previous posts on that topic). It was an exercise from Susan Jeffers’ book, Embracing Uncertainty. She’s best known for Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway, but I found the lesser-known one to be more relevant to my own circumstances.

Anyway, the bit I remembered in my sleep-addled haze was the suggestion that if you really, really hope something will happen, it can be helpful to remove the word “hope” from your thought and replace it with “maybe”. So, in my case, it would be, “Maybe he’ll get back to sleep, maybe he’ll not wake his brother. But maybe he won’t”. For some people this might sound daft, as if it could change anything about the situation. The point is, it won’t, but it does alter your emotional attachment to it. So when he didn’t get back to sleep and indeed did wake his brother <sigh>, I was less distraught that my plea hadn’t worked. I’d already prepared myself for the possibility that what I really wanted might not come to pass.

It didn’t stop me feeling any less tired, but I was less irritable with the children, and more able to clear my mind and deal with the situation as it was, rather than coping with disappointment.

Not revolutionary, but I wanted to share it nonetheless.