Hello, today's teenagers. I know you don't remember this, but back when you were three months old, you likely began showing self-soothing behaviors — that is, you began learning how to calm down, relax and go to sleep again in your bed.
By the time you were six months old, your parents were actively encouraging you to self-soothe, as this is around the time you could make it through the night without needing to be fed.
And I'll bet you were crushing it!
Guys — I am absolutely loving my summer reading list! It started with Hillary's What Happened, which, as I wrote in Right Now is the Best, Weirdest Time to Read Hillary Clinton's 'What Happened', felt weirdly timely and relevant. I also enjoyed and recommend A History of the United States in Five Crashes: Stock Market Meltdowns That Defined a Nation (which also feels really relevant right now), Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (which is alarming, to say the least), A Sand County Almanac (which is more soothing than poetry), and The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West (which was educational, but definitely not my favorite).
Now, I'm finishing Marriage, a History: How Love Conquered Marriage, from which I learned a really weird and unexpected fact:
Marriage counseling was pioneered as a form of eugenics.
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Last night, like every night before it these last few weeks, was one of the most glorious of my life. It was midnight, and I was walking through the woods, alone. The trees blocked most of the moonlight and starlight, but above and below and all around me, I was surrounded by fireflies.
All at once, I felt secluded in nature, and like I was scuba diving, and like I was riding Space Mountain, and like I was on some kind of drug that just makes you love everything around more than you thought possible.
You know I have a thick skin -- I love making fun of virtue signaling, regressive feminism, whiny little babies, and social justice warriors.
But I canNOT stand the disgusting rape song that is "Baby, It's Cold Outside." When it comes on, I literally wait outside until the song is over.
While traveling in Malaysia this year, I met the most amazing woman. Vivacious, brilliant, and adventurous, this girl and I kayaked several miles of open sea in search of fish species we'd never seen before. We lay on the beach all night, watching the stars and eating watermelon infused with duty-free vodka. We trekked the python- and cobra-filled jungle in search of the elusive Penis Plant.
"She only got in because she's an athlete."
"He only got in because he's black. I had a much higher SAT score, and I didn't get in."
"Of course she got in! She's Mexican, gay, and disabled. A triple-threat minority!"
"Yeah, but he's a legacy student."
Jealousy is ugly... and if you're someone who's been admitted to a prestigious prep school or university, chances are you've heard someone say something ugly about why you got in.
They might be right. They might be wrong. They might just be spiteful. Regardless, who cares? You got in, and they didn't.
Yesterday, I wrote about how there's a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser. My intention was to inform those whose friends suffer from mental illness to be compassionate... but remember to think critically about your actions and the effects they may have on your friend and his/her partner.
Today, I'm writing a quick reminder to those who are, or may be, affected by mental illness:
Your partner is not your emotional slave.
My background is in psychology -- but not abnormal or relationship psychology. (I studied adult playfulness!) I want to acknowledge that before I start, because this is far from my area of expertise.
But I just saw some of THE MOST FUCKED UP SHIT on Facebook, and it prompted an important realization:
There is a difference between helping a depressed friend and enabling an abuser.
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Last Wednesday, I was at the rock wall, waiting for my climbing partner, who was running late. Mindlessly, I started scrolling through my newsfeed... when I saw an ad for a Fleetwood Mac concert!
I clicked the link, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn't actually go, since I'm bad at planning things in advance. But it turns out the concert was that night! In the moments before my climbing buddy arrived, I texted a friend to see if he was game, and booked our tickets. I had time for about 45 minutes of climbing before the show!
Next thing I knew, I was in the 5th row at Fleetwood Mac, about to take a selfie during the chorus of Landslide, one of the most legendary songs of all time... when Stevie Nicks suddenly stopped singing and said, "What's happening? What happened? I lost the key!"
Manners are great -- when appropriate.
But there is a time and a place for everything.
About the Author
Eva is a content specialist with a passion for play, travel... and a little bit of girl power. Read more >
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