Why bother? // Self-care in a time of uncertainty with pioneering author Jennifer Louden
“Why Bother? is a reclamation. With curiosity, wisdom, reverence, and grace, Jennifer Louden shows us how to transform two simple words from the ultimate expression of futility into a path back to desire and, eventually, meaning. Read it, then live it.”
In times of uncertainty — both personal and collective — it’s easy to struggle with the question Why Bother? Pioneering self-care author Jennifer Louden answers this complex call to both complacency and action in her new book, Why bother? Discover the Desire for What’s Next.
We had the opportunity to talk to Jennifer before the devastating impacts of the global Coronavirus pandemic started to be widely felt. But her wisdom on how to continue to feed our desires, create small moments of activism and live our lives in the gap gives us hope for how we might adapt to our current moment.
The following interview is an edited version of our original conversation. We hope you enjoy it, and benefit from it, as much as we have.
We sometimes talk about If Lost Start Here as a guidebook for people who don’t want to go anywhere. Let’s start by talking about the idea of that stuck place, where many of us have found ourselves and which is as real as any other location in the world.
I know that when I was in my why bother times — which started in my 20s and periodically showed up every decade except my 50s — I always imagined the stuck place as having glass walls, though the top was open. There was a way out but there was no way to get traction, or as my grandmother would say purchase, on those glass walls.
I think the thing that makes this location — this prison, this place, this swamp, however people describe their stuck place — so real is that we think we have already answered the question that we are asking. We think we’ve answered the question of why bother, or “What’s the point?”. We think that there’s not going to be anything new, or that “I’ve already tried that”, or whatever version that we’re asking and then answering in the negative.
This kind of thinking just creeps up on us and convinces us to remain where we are (though sometimes there are a lot of real reasons to believe something). A lot of the ways that our brain works keep reinforcing an idea. The thing that I look back on and realize is that I kept bouncing up against and trying to climb those slippery glass walls using the same outlook, the same tools, trying to get to the same place.
What makes stuck feel so real is what we believe about why we have to stay there, and why we can’t get out.
What did that concept of being lost mean to you? You write about being "in the land of the lost”, finding yourself there after your divorce, your father’s death, your mother’s Alzheimer’s, a close friend's suicide and a creatively insecure period.
Being lost to me means what I can say and see now, but which I couldn’t at the time: that I only could conceive of the same “found” that I had experienced before, the same kind of success, like writing a successful book and having a successful teaching business. Part of what kept me lost is that I kept going back and trying the same things over and over again. That not only kept me lost but it also meant that I didn’t have the energy or the imagination to find my way through.
I’m really interested in the moment that comes before going, before doing. How did you overcome your own sense of inertia and start to take steps forward?
God knows it took me long enough and there are stories in the book of people who figured it our much faster or had a lightbulb moment early on, or really listened to a sense of inner prompting. I’m very stubborn and I’m incredibly slow to learn so those moments had to come a lot!
One of the biggest things I did to overcome my own sense of inertia is really what became the thesis of the book: when I could stop repeating the same ineffectual things, I could then explore with openness and a lack of attachment an experience of desire, a desire that had nothing to do with figuring anything out or achieving something for me.
That’s what’s so important to know about these why bother / “What’s the point?” lost times. That there is desire bubbling up even if its super faint. I’ve noticed though that we deny it. We’re afraid of it. We stamp on it because it triggers fears in us, it doesn’t work well for our brain. That’s what keeps us in a sense of inertia. But if we can cultivate our sense of desire like we would embers in a campfire we can make space for it. Imagine that moment when you are about to get up on water-skis, that moment when you get pulled out of the water – it feels like that. It’s not perfect, and to get us going requires some efforts on our part.
Let’s linger for a moment on that concept of desire. You make a distinction between the outward kind — about things and status that we’ve been told to pursue — and a more inward, self-defining kind.
Desire, the flow of desire, a relationship with it, a curiosity about it, is how we open the door to life. The image that always comes to me is of a spring. If you’ve ever seen a spring bubbling up out of the ground, or the rocks, it’s amazing to see what feeds it. Where is it coming from? I think desire is that bumbling up spring. It feeds our curiosity. It feeds our ability to do hard things. It gives us resiliency. It gives us pleasure.
But that spring gets mucked up. It gets mucked up with culture and trauma and fear and images of what it is supposed to be to desire and what we’re supposed to desire and our needs to make money. We have to keep cleaning out that spring — not because it’s going to make us money, not because it’s going to get us someone’s love, not because it’s going to get us likes on social media, but because it’s a flow of life, it feeds everything. The movement created by desire helps us to be here, to be present, to show up and develop the gifts that we want to. When we stamp on that, when we judge it, when we twist it, eventually we fall into really, the worst kind of why bother.
A lot of things that happen in the world come back to some form of desire and what I see, especially in western women which is the population that I know, is that desire has gotten completely messed up and with it so much of our sense of what we want our life to look like and the permission we give ourselves to make decisions. There’s so much exhaustion and burn out. We revive desire once it's dormant by paying attention to what we want and even if we can’t have those things, we need to still allow that feeling of want and curiosity to flow and then trying to understand it in different ways.
Your new book finds its pivot point on the question of Why bother — which can be both a call for change and an admission of defeat. How did your interpretation of that question change in writing the book?
I didn’t know for so much of those different lost periods in my life, those different stuck periods including the longest and darkest one, that I was asking even why bother. What I really discovered when people started reading the book is that they didn’t even know that they were in a why bother phase either. A couple of people who endorse the book wrote back that reading it was so good for them because they didn’t realize that they were trapped in this why bother phase and reacting in all these unhelpful ways. One person was just hustling their way through it, working harder, which I think we can all relate to. The question in and of itself can be such a pivot point, but the first thing that we have to recognize is that we’re asking it.
Even though it has its dark side, its flawed side, its done side, we still need this question of why bother. If someone is asking why bother to date again after a partner has died, they also need to acknowledge that that relationship, that past, that love is gone. You can’t go back to it. In some ways even asking why bother to keep trying is really, really important. But if we can’t embrace what’s done, what’s not working, what’s been taken from us, we can’t start to ask the question of “What do I want to bother about now?” and “What’s possible about bothering about now?”
What I saw myself doing, what I saw the people I interviewed and who I work with doing, is trying to go back to what’s known or familiar. We keep replaying the past and complaining about it. We keep being sad about it. That’s what keeps us from asking the generative why bother? Because we can’t embrace it, we can’t come to terms with it, we can’t face what is no longer ours to bother about. There’s a lot of hanging on it.
You write about why bother as not just a response to personal life circumstances, but as a response to such overwhelming situations as climate change, political upheaval, and social injustice. We’ve certainly felt the pull-down of those issues and the weight of what to do has kept us stuck. How have you found ways to negotiate overwhelm and feelings of futility?
It is buying into overwhelm and futility where we lose our ability to take any action. It’s buying into cynicism.
I had a friend say to me that it’s too late to do anything about the climate crisis, that there’s nothing to do, that they are going to be dead before it gets really bad. I had a conversation with friends at a party a couple of weekends ago who said that, “Trump is going to win, it’s too late, it’s already over”.
It’s that kind of thinking that we have to stop in ourselves and, if we can and it’s appropriate, in conversations with people who we’re in community with. It drags all of us down. It stops our brains from being creative. It stops us from wondering what is possible. I love what some climate activists are saying now, that we have to stop the conversation that this is impossible, that this is overwhelming, and that we can’t do anything.
The first thing that we need to do is to find reasons to be optimistic and to reclaim our agency. Without agency, there is nothing that can happen. It’s just bullshit to believe in futility. It is not what history shows us. History shows us a lot of things, but it also shows us the possibility of change. It’s not always the change that we like or in the direction we want, but there’s nothing about history that shows us that things don’t change. And so why can’t we believe that our actions can be a force for change?
The flip side is that we have to negotiate our own lives, our own passions. We have to embrace our own human-scaled life. I have it on my list to take one action a day on the climate crisis. Sometimes that’s reading a couple of articles at lunch. Yesterday it was buying a book and sharing something on Facebook. Sometimes it's calling or tweeting something to my senator. It can be really small, but I refuse not to do anything. I want to keep learning where I can be a voice, where I can be useful.
One of your six ideas for getting your bother on is “become by doing”. We love the idea of “staying in the gap”.
Yes, this has been something I have been curious about, practicing and writing about forever. Given how our brains and our nervous system is built, we do not like to not know. We would rather have certainty that sucks then live in the question, the uncomfortableness of reaching forwards and exploring more. So, the key to living in the gap between what’s stirring in us and where we currently are is to recognize and find ways to be curious, awake and comfortable, even if it's only for moments at a time. But we need to stay in that curious, uncomfortable place, without freaking out because when we do that we make decisions, we numb out and we get busy with all kinds of things that ultimately obscure our discomfort.
How do you think the self-care landscape has shifted since you first wrote The Woman’s Comfort Book: A Self-Nurturing Guide for Restoring Balance in Your Life?
Its shifted as far as you can imagine. When I first wrote that book nobody talked about self-care. It was quite a foreign concept. I remember I taught a workshop early on and a woman looked at me and said, “I take care of myself. I get my nails done.” It’s now a multibillion-dollar industry.
What I discovered pretty early on in talking and teaching after The Woman’s Comfort Book was published is that self-care is how we recharge in order to do the hard things in life. It’s how we claim the courage and energy to have agency for ourselves to speak up for what we want. Self-care is intimately tied to creating a life we want. It’s not intimately tied to what we buy. It’s not intimately tied to some of the hoo-ha that I see out there. That stuff can be really fun, we don’t have to make it wrong, but I think it so often becomes an arms war of pashmina blankets and unicorn tear face cream. It can really trivialize the deeply feminist stance, that Audre Lorde first spoke about long before I did in the context of her work.
Something I love about your book is that you work against the narrative of self-care: that if you meditate enough, pray enough, have enough therapy, eat clean enough, become successful, you can create some happy ending for yourself and that's Life Done. But what you offer here is something more flexible, something foundational.
Yes, the narrative of self-care for me became an idea that if I just did everything right, I wouldn’t suffer anymore. It’s really ludicrous when you say it out loud, but I really, really believed it. And sometimes it still creeps in. I have some food allergies and the thought occurred to me that maybe this autoimmune response is my body reacting to what I still tell myself: if I’m a good person, I should eat these foods and I’ll feel great. It’s so much more foundational to realize that we fall into why bother, “what’s the point?”, and swamps of feeling lost, no matter what kind of self-care we practice because it’s part of being human.
How does it feel to be someone who writes about self-help concepts, facing your own life and struggles head-on? Did you feel pressure as "a self-help author" to be happy and to keep with narratives of promise and fulfillment?
I used to. It almost did me in and made me quit. I tried to run away from the self-help business numerous times. I felt like a fake so often because I couldn’t always take care of myself. I wasn’t getting better or “having my best life”. Can I just tell you how much I hate that phrase? I have no idea what my best life is! It feels like such a pressure. I don’t want my best life. I want real life.
If I was going to get a tattoo it would say, “Be here for it all.” I don’t feel the same pressure anymore. I feel the pressure to be here and to share ideas and stories and create community and spaces where we can be here for it all. I really do believe that once our basic needs are met — which for several billion people on the earth is not happening — the question really is how much can I be here for it. How awake can I be? And how compassionate can I be with myself and everyone else? There’s nothing to fix. When I realized that there’s nothing to fix, when I realized that fixing things is not my job in life, everything changed.
All quotes are taken from Why Bother? You can pre-order Jennifer’s book today (head to IndieBound if you can and support small bookstores).
About the author: Jennifer Louden is a personal growth pioneer who helped launch the concept of self-care with her 1992 bestselling debut book The Woman’s Comfort Book. She is the author of five additional books, including The Woman’s Retreat Book, The Life Organizer and Why Bother? With close to a million copies of her books in print in nine languages, Jennifer is a sought-after speaker, addressing audiences across the USA, Canada and Europe. She is a former columnist for Whole Living, a Martha Stewart magazine, and has appeared on a number of television and radio shows and podcasts—including The Oprah Winfrey Show. Her work has been featured in People, USA Today, CNN, and Brené Brown’s books Daring Greatly and Dare to Lead.
