In the beginning of August, I found myself with no job, no place to live and, somewhat unexpectedly, no boyfriend. Was this my welcome into this mystifying time period known as the "Super Senior Feb semester?" Having one class a week while my graduated friends observed Ramadan in Tunisia and started start-ups that help people start start-ups? If being a super senior meant watching my prom date get married on Facebook and dwelling on my anxieties while working at the mail center, I was having none of it.
I explained this over Skype to my friend Max, who had just returned from a four-week program called The Bold Academy. According to their website, The Bold Academy is "a life-changing experience designed to help you find your deepest clarity, build confidence and unlock your ability to lead the life you've always wanted to live."
"So it's like a self-help cult?" I asked him.
"Yeah!" he said. "But let's face it. Sometimes, you just need it! And anyone who tells you they're always confident, driven and don't need self-help is full of bullsh*t."
I nodded tentatively as he worked up to his conclusion, happily exclaiming, "We're all f*cked up!"
Before this moment, I had laughed in self-help's face. Those Anna Quindlen books my Dad checked out from the library about how great it was to be over 50? Must be a scam. Meditation? Booo-ring. But suddenly this notion that "we're all f*cked up" was speaking to me. I was 3,000 miles from home, and I had five weeks to kill. With a healthy coat of irony to protect me, I decided to give this "self-help" thing a try. In the words of the Bold Academy website, I was going to unleash my full potential, find meaning and make the world a better place!
Part 1: Reiki Treatment
My first self-help opportunity arose when I learned that a woman I worked with had some training from a Japanese Reiki Master. I didn't know what Reiki was or how to spell it, but I did possess stereotypes of the Japanese as healthy and calm people. My three and a half hour journey began by unclogging my heart Chakra with a pendulum and ended with identifying my flower essences.
Part 2: Soul Cycle
Soul Cycle, America's most expensive exercise class, is where hot yoga meets TV evangelist meets rave. It's a spin class in candlelight attended by fifty of New York's highest-powered turbo babes. The temperature creeps up while techno music blasts into your eardrums and an instructor jumps around screaming motivational statements. "IF YOU CAN DO THIS, YOU CAN DO ANYTHING!" Emma screamed over the PA while the Indian food I just ate sloshed around in my stomach. I watched the butt a foot in front of my face bounce to the beat and sweat into its lulu lemon exterior. Why hadn't I invented this?
Part 3: Moving in with Grandparents
One day, I woke up and remembered that there were two adorable humans in Schenectady, New York who love me unconditionally. And they have a pool! They can't hear very well, so I yelled my future plans to them over our potato stew dinner and found it surprisingly remedial.
Part 4: Jogging
Before life in Schenectady, I considered jogging to be a masochistic ritual practiced by people who hated themselves. Then I discovered that through jogging I could literally run from my problems. I downloaded an app called "RunKeeper," where every five minutes a woman's condescending voice was broadcast over my music to tell me how slow I was going. But hey, I needed all the endorphins I could get.
 Part 5: Free Middlebury Therapists
Did you know the price of your tuition includes these counselors? I mean, it would be a waste of money NOT to go talk to them! Did you know their phone number is (802) 443-5141 and you can call them right now?
Part 6: Burning Man
Originally created by a guy going through a breakup, Burning Man was clearly the culmination of my month long quest for self-betterment. If roller-skating naked in the desert doesn't make you feel like $$$$, then I guess self-help can't help you.
During my month of soul searching and heartbreak induced "crisis" come 30 years early, I soaked in the woo-woo and the vague clichés. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, I told myself. Grab life by the antlers. Kick your anxiety in the groin. I don't think I'll be going back for a Reiki treatment any time soon, but I believe Max was right. When it comes to the enormous commercial ploy categorized as "self-help," sometimes you just need it.
Is This It?
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