Part 3: Self help: A Decade of Wasted Time, Money, and Emotion

It all began when I found three books taped together in a dumpster near my apartment in Queens.

Ha! How apt, seeing as I was about to embark on a 10-year journey of investing in an industry and belief system that would waste my time, money, effort, and emotion.

I was 22 and had just been fired from my first post-college job and then was part of a mass layoff from my second job. I was desperate for the security of knowing how I would pay my rent. 

I felt like I couldn't catch a break, and the pressure of adulting while broke in New York was practically debilitating.

There must have been a fellow spiritual seeker in my building because they were throwing away Deepak Chopra's "7 Laws of Spiritual Success," "The Law of Attraction" by Rhonda Byrne, and "The Charge" by Brendon Burchard.

After reading the 7 Spiritual Laws of Success, I sat on my apartment floor and literally wept, feeling like I had finally found THE answer to my inner suffering. 

I was hooked.

You see, I was crushed by student debt, clueless about finances, and navigating the rollercoaster of online dating in one of the toughest cities. These self-help books tinted with Eastern philosophy seemed new, exotic, and progressive—unlike stale, judgmental, archaic, close-minded Christianity.

THIS was my solution. THESE gurus had the keys to life – a secret knowledge the rest of the world was asleep to.

If I just worked on my mindset, rewired my subconscious, believed in myself, and thought positively, I would get the guy, the job, the apartment, and the money.

Best of all, I'd prove to everyone back home who ever doubted me that I wasn't some out-of-control low-life.

Around this time, my best friend had attended a self-help seminar called the Landmark Forum (formerly EST) and couldn’t stop talking about it and trying to recruit me.

At first, I thought she was in a cult. But as my depression and lost-ness progressed and I continued to spiral, I finally agreed to attend the seminar out of desperation.

During the weekend-long self-help conference near Madison Square Garden, I joined around 100 people airing their trauma at the mic in the front of the room where they received "coaching."

I had finally found my dysfunctional, traumatized tribe!

The Landmark seminar started a decade-long love affair with the personal development and the self-help world.

I loved being around people having honest, vulnerable conversations, aiming for personal growth, and digging deep to “do the work” it took to progress in life.

And so my self-help (or should I say selfish-help?) journey began…

I began studying kundalini yoga, transcendental meditation, breath work, chakra balancing, and manifestation. 
 
I invested in conferences, retreats, seminars, astrologers, psychic mediums, and endless meditation and yoga classes. I read books by a woman who cured her cancer with green juice and positive affirmations. I even journeyed to Costa Rica to study Vedas, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali to become a certified yoga instructor.
I thought I was discovering the spiritual secrets of life. But most of all. I loved the positivity of it all.

Whenever I felt discouraged on my commute to work, I'd listen to a Hay House podcast on the crowded 7 train. Listening to these authors and speakers gave me hope that someone out there had it figured out, motivating me to believe in the future I could achieve by staying positive and "manifesting it."

I didn’t realize it then, but I was actually just participating in an Oprah-style pop enlightenment.

With each book bought, seminar attended, or podcast heard, I’d experienced a brief spiritual high, followed by a search for the next "solution."

You see, New-age spirituality bastardizes the religious practices of Hindus, Buddhists, and Taoists, throws it into a blender, and makes it palatable enough for white girls with enough income to attend yoga retreats, buy crystals, and find God on psychedelic trips in the jungles of Peru.It's a never-ending cycle of spiritual seeking that always leaves you searching for your next "high," only to land back at square one when the reality of everyday mundane life sets in.And where was God during this time?

God became “the universe,” spirit guides, a Buddha statue, and my past life ancestors. In all of my seeking, I had chopped God into a thousand pieces, molding him and shaping him into whatever belief or spiritual tradition I was into at the time.If this sounds ridiculous to you just open Instagram or TikTok and see the masses talking about manifestation and crystals and referring to God as "the universe."

Better yet, just walk into TJ Maxx or Marshalls, and you’ll find Ouija Boards and Tarot Cards decks lining the shelves next to the candles and notebooks.

As immersed as I was in this lifestyle, what triggered the end of it all? It was a series of "rock bottom" moments, which I will explain further in my next email.