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  • Caroline Wright

On self help

Updated: Apr 26




I thought about enrolling in a self-help program to help me deal with my relationship issues. There are plenty out there, and for an undisclosed amount, I, too, could enroll. "Some women do go into debt for this," one program's administrator admitted. I was simultaneously inspired and disgusted. Inspired that someone who went on a personal journey and found the key to her own relationship success is now triumphantly passing her key to other women; disgusted how much it all felt like a 'sell.' After an introductory phone call that quickly switched from, "Tell me about yourself—I noticed you write a blog," to: "I can tell you're not a good fit and aren't ready for the next phase."


At first, I felt offended. Did I not reach out to her, saying I was interested? How does my inquiring about the cost of her program equate to being turned off so quickly? A conversation with a psychic from years ago flashed before me: "We won't know how much it will cost or how long it will take until we start the program and see what your needs are."


The kicker was, shortly after I was cut off from this scheduled phone screen, I received an automated follow-up email from a gal named Charlotte, a different program administrator, thanking me for registering for the call. She told me it's a shame I'm not yet ready to change my life, but just as soon as I am, to give her a call back.



miracle


What would you do if you happened upon a miracle?

If it wasn’t lit, didn’t resemble magic -

encompassed mostly grit?

What if the miracle had sad eyes?

If it wore cold hands, holding desire to be anything but?

Would you speak if you happened upon a miracle?

If it had extra thin lips, wrote in mysterious subtitles,

came void of a proverbial bag of tricks?

What if the miracle looked like you?

Saw fear?

Knew your brother?

What would you do if you happened upon a miracle?

Would you sense the sensation?

Marvel at the marvelous?



When I researched the leader of this program's pack—the she-wolf in charge of the transformative program—I learned she takes part in what's called "Clients on Demand," where someone buys into an elite sales program to up their prices from about $300 to the $3,000-10,000+ range. Apparently, this woman makes $80,000 - $100,000 per month for her coaching services. While it's cool this woman called Lucy is successful in her own right, I could not help but think of the oodles of women who pay her salary in exchange for help while so many other women out there successfully find their soulmates at no cost (other than putting forth their own time and effort).


So, I decided to make one of the most important decisions of my life, all on my own: to let go of the fear that I am powerless in my search for a new mate and indulge in a 'free-to-me' self empowerment course of my own making—I'm spending time re-reading books on my bookshelf (such as Panache Desai's Discovering Your Soul Signature and Louise Hay's You Can Heal Your Life), to reflect upon and reapply the books' exercises, many of which helped me heal after countless hospitalizations after my husband's passing. Time to reinvest in myself (without going into debt), only now my focus is on my relationship with myself—mental and emotional.


I'm in Day 14 of a 60-Day program and results are good. My mood is elevated, I am happier and more at peace with myself than I was before quarantine for COVID-19 took place, despite (perhaps because of) having to spend more days in rather than out. There's no dating allowed until after completion of the course. I guess you could say I'm dating myself, for the first time in my life.


Speaking of firsts, today was the first day I was able to put up a photograph of Michael in my condo since his passing. (It's been seven years.) If that's not a sign of success, I'm not sure what is.


...


P.S. I ended up sending a birthday card to the guy from a previous post who had forgotten my birthday. Because, well, I am a person who loves to send homemade cards to friends and, sometimes, even acquaintances. (Plus, it feels so fucking good!) I promised myself never to forget how great it feels to be kind, really.


Cha-ching.



Remembering Michael A. Juska (1981-2013). He was an engineer and inventor, an avid picture-taker, amateur filmmaker, actor, graphic artist and comedian. Proud Lithuanian-American. Good husband, son, brother, nephew, uncle, godfather and friend. He is missed and also loved.


You don't know | What it's like | Baby you don't know | What it's like

To love somebody | To love somebody | The way I love you

— Nina Simone


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