i'm a self-help Hoe

NOT to be confused with the Hoe of self-help

You’re reading The Confession which comes out on Fridays. Proceed with due caution.

---

JESUS FUCK. I just took a CBD Gummi* which ALSO happens to be laced with 1.5mg of THC and now I’m OVERTHINKING EVERYTHING.

Am I high?

Are my thoughts lucid?

What if think I’m making sense and I’m actually NOT making any sense at all.

CHRIST THAT WOULD BE MORE HUMILIATING THAN FUCKING A HAIRLESS ARMPIT.

😂😂😂

^That wholesome phrase popped into my head yesterday, or was it today (the drugs, man) and I’ve been ITCHING to use it because I can NOT be the only one who is privy to that kind of outrageousness.

BUT THEN, IN MY CURRENT STATE, I WONDER… IS IT AS FUNNY AS I THINK IT IS?

Because I don’t know… am I high?

SPOILER ALERT.

I generally dislike weed. The Mary Jane. That Flower in a Pipe. (← 99.2% sure nooooobody says that. But I’m not backtracking now.) Not for me.

Anywho. I’m quite certain that you CANNOT get the least bit of any sort of actual high off of CBD gummies with 1.5mg THC but I must let you know that I am a LIGHTWEIGHT when it comes to the flower in a pipe. And right now I am feeling a bit “altered in the mind”. But ever so subtly. Which makes me wonder if I can trust that. WHAT IF THAT’S JUST MY PERCEPTION AND I’M REALLY ONLY 2 DEGREES OF SEPARATION OF BEING WILLIE NELSON’S SISTER FROM ANOTHER MISTER. You feel me?

Ok enough is enough.

I don’t THINK I’m actually high right now. 😂 But I also cannot confirm with complete accuracy that I’m not at least a little altered. Which feels as unsettling to me right now as a San Fransisco earthquake circa 1906.

OKAY OKAY OKAY.

(alright alright alriiiiiiht 🤠)

Today’s confession?

I AM A SELF-HELP HOE.

Strap me to that bed, shove a book in my hands and tell me to be a good girl and read until I’ve solved all my problems and let me tell you… I will try my DAMNDEST to be that good girl.

Mindset books? Gobble ‘em up.

Memoirs from fascinating figures? Of course.

Physical health? Yep.

Business books? Love them!

Philosophy? Ding-ding!

Etc., etc. etc.

I’m OBSESSED with “fixing myself” and believe that “self-help” books are the aftercare I crave.

hunni if you don’t self-help are you really living? 💅 ← me to me

And it doesn’t help that I am a naturally curious person who loves to learn and question and grow and my god, the “self-help movement” is a drug for that level of curiosity. And should potentially be classified as a level II narcotic.

Because if you aren’t careful, before you know it, you’re pimping yourself out to the next great self-help read.

Secretly, desperately thinking to yourself:

→ maybe this will be the one to fix me!

→ oh yes, this sounds so right!

→ of course, I just have to follow the steps!

→ following these steps will unlock everything for me!

…

…

…

FUCK THAT MAKES ME ITCHY (JUST LIKE I PRESUME A LEVEL II NARCATOIC SITUATION MIGHT INDUCE).

…

Sigh.

The struggle is real.

On the ONE hand, I looooooove reading. And learning. And use the term “self-help” quite broadly. Self-help encompasses a PLETHORA (hoe, but classy) of topics ranging from psychology to physical health to mental health to philosophy to spirituality to business to memoirs to financial literacy and much, much more.

Which I think all of the above is fucking fantastical!!!

But on the OTHER hand, I FEAR that I am getting stuck in a hoe-rut of gobbling down all of the books, trying to follow someone else’s bloody system all the while ignoring the screaming in my soul.

I’m just not someone who can “follow” someone’s prescribed system and viola - it worked!, I’m a rouge renegade who needs to listen to her screaming soul:

“LISTEN HERE YOU DAMN SELF-HELP HOE, YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP DROWNING IN OTHER PEOPLE’S WISDOM UNTIL YOU WOMAN UP AND LISTEN TO YOUR OWN DAMN WISDOM. BITCH ASS HOE.”

^My soul, to me.

She ain’t wrong, though.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK it’s frustrating for me to know the answer but also not know the answer. You know?

^At which point I would not blame you for thinking maybe I am high.

WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS… I can feel it in my bones that I’m supposed to be living a life that is unapologetically true to my heart and soul, and that is the answer to all of my problems… I just don’t exactly know what that looks like or how to get there, for that matter.

And then my soul starts screaming at me again:

“YOU DO TOO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING, WOMAN! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT TO DO BUT THEN ALWAYS SHUT IT DOWN BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO AFRAID OF WHAT THE PEOPLE’S WILL THINK OF YOU. ← THAT’S WHAT YOU SHOULD BE DOING!!!”

Ugh, SHE RIGHT.

I DO know what I’m supposed to be doing.

And guess what? Writing confessionals that make me all itchy and squirmy are part of what I’m supposed to be doing. <3

Because I LOVE to write. Confessing my thoughts on paper in a (hopefully 😂) entertaining, honest and relatable way brings me immense joy.

And as long as I follow that immense joy with wanton abandonment I’ll find myself on the government most wanted for tax evasion I’m pretty sure I’ll have stopped being a self-help HOE and will become a self-help DOMINITRIX SEEKER.

Seeking truth. Seeking inner peace. Seeking joy. With no naughty hoe-ing in the “self-help” process.

To be CLEAR:

I think “self-help” (and again, that includes a massive span of adjacent genres) books are FANTASTIC.

How else are we supposed to challenge our beliefs or expand our mindset or find inspiration for new swears or inspire our faith or learn new things?

AND:

There is no “right way” to life.

// there is no right way to life //

I could read ALL the self-help books and STILL not know what my “right way” to life is.

Which makes me feel a wee bit panicky, not going to lie.

So.

What does that mean for me going forward?

WELL. 😂

I know I’m still gonna read my “self-help” books. But by golly, I am going to practice doing so with such curiosity and open-mindedness and joy and NOT reading them because I’m looking to immediately fix internal problems by external means.

(And I solemnly swear I intend to only practice safe self-help hoe-ing.)

So. TL;DR -

HERE’S TO LIVING YOUR -AND MINE- BEST LIVES, ACCORDING TO EXACTLY HOWEVER OUR SOULS ARE SCREAMING AT US TO DO IT.

Because at the end of the day, those self-help books might be mighty helpful guides as we learn and grow, but they can’t possibly substitute your own inner knowing and wisdom of what’s right for you.

-M

*BTW this was at 8:35pm on Thursday, the night before publishing, so put your ta-tas back, Barb, I wasn’t popping (even if only 1.5MG) TCH-CBD laced gummies in the AM on a Friday.

---

Hi, hello! You just read The Confession were I, Megan, confess some shit to you in the only way I know how: blasphemously.

And here’s even more detail you didn’t ask for.

I have challenged myself to write 3x weekly during the month of June as a way to normalize failure to myself, and well, others!

You see, fear of failure normally paralyzes me from the brain down and I never publish anything that I truly love or brings me joy. So for the entire month of June, I’m free-ing myself to write whatever the hell I want, and if it “fails” who the flip-flop cares!! It is an experiment.

So, if you want to give me feedback on this lil experiment of mine, I would be ever so grateful. Drop a comment and let me know if you like this kind of newsletter. Comments such as “it was more boring than Hillary’s ass” or “I feel alseep with my eyes open” are perfectly acceptable forms of feedback. I welcome it all.

Shank you for reading.