How to be a Person in the World
I love advice columns. There are a lot of reasons. Good, practical, applicable advice is certainly part of it. I like having concrete tactics and actions to fall back on in difficult situations. But there's also a weird combination of solidarity and smugness. I like reading about some problems and knowing that I'm not alone. I like reading about other problems and feeling better about my own life. At least I'm not as stupid as some people out there. I think it all comes down to that human connection, conveniently packaged into bite-sized articles.
When I'm dealing with a tricky problem - practical or emotional - one of my go-to problem solving methods is to write a letter to an advice columnist. I never send these letters. But the act of writing the letter is beneficial. What's the most succinct way to describe the problem? What information is relevant and what really isn't? What sort of answer am I looking for? A big part of the process is deciding who I want to send the letter to. Do I want Dear Prudence to tell me to use my words and communicate honestly? Do I want Captain Awkward to help me excise toxic people and remind me that good fences make good neighbors? Do I just want Miss Manners to assure me that I'm right? Or do I want Dear Polly to remind me that my life is my own and I need to embrace all my flaws and talents and regrets and options in order to take charge of it?
Of the advice columns I read, Dear Polly is easily the longest winded. (Though Captain Awkward can sometimes give her a run for her money.) She gets down in the trenches with the people who come to her. She assures them that they are not alone; she too has been where they are. She employs this astounding combination of compassion and honestly to help pinpoint problems, both big and small, that the advice-seekers are perpetuating in their own lives. It's really amazing the way she will lay a person's soul bare with surgical precision and then stitch them back up with love.
This book is a collection of her advice columns, all of which are available for free in various places online. But the collection is curated. It's perfect to keep on my nightstand and read before bed each night.
I'll be honest: if I'd tried to read this book straight through in a couple of days, I might have hated it. I might have found it repetitive and trite. A letter or two each night is how this book was meant to be read. It swaddled me up in practicality and compassion and sent me off to sleep each night with the reassurance that I was not alone, that every problem is solvable, that every person is, in fact, a complete person who deserves happiness and fulfillment. It's just up to us to find it.
When I'm dealing with a tricky problem - practical or emotional - one of my go-to problem solving methods is to write a letter to an advice columnist. I never send these letters. But the act of writing the letter is beneficial. What's the most succinct way to describe the problem? What information is relevant and what really isn't? What sort of answer am I looking for? A big part of the process is deciding who I want to send the letter to. Do I want Dear Prudence to tell me to use my words and communicate honestly? Do I want Captain Awkward to help me excise toxic people and remind me that good fences make good neighbors? Do I just want Miss Manners to assure me that I'm right? Or do I want Dear Polly to remind me that my life is my own and I need to embrace all my flaws and talents and regrets and options in order to take charge of it?
Of the advice columns I read, Dear Polly is easily the longest winded. (Though Captain Awkward can sometimes give her a run for her money.) She gets down in the trenches with the people who come to her. She assures them that they are not alone; she too has been where they are. She employs this astounding combination of compassion and honestly to help pinpoint problems, both big and small, that the advice-seekers are perpetuating in their own lives. It's really amazing the way she will lay a person's soul bare with surgical precision and then stitch them back up with love.
This book is a collection of her advice columns, all of which are available for free in various places online. But the collection is curated. It's perfect to keep on my nightstand and read before bed each night.
I'll be honest: if I'd tried to read this book straight through in a couple of days, I might have hated it. I might have found it repetitive and trite. A letter or two each night is how this book was meant to be read. It swaddled me up in practicality and compassion and sent me off to sleep each night with the reassurance that I was not alone, that every problem is solvable, that every person is, in fact, a complete person who deserves happiness and fulfillment. It's just up to us to find it.
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