Me, age 40
Every
month, I read O magazine for my Oprah
fix. I derive a curious pleasure in dissecting what she knows for sure (her
words, not mine), how she lives her best life (ditto), and what “Aha!”
moments she has stockpiled for my personal edification.
The
September 2014 issue is chock full of good stuff. I’m sifting through Oprah’s
advice for smart, simple makeovers when I land on Dr. Phil McGraw’s column. His
topic is “The way you do anything is the way you do everything.”
“Well,
this sounds fascinating,” I say to myself, cheerfully tucking into his article.
Dr. Phil explains
that the phrase “The way you do anything is the way you do everything" has become his own personal credo. He writes: “I observed that I was an
all-or-nothing person. If I was lazy about just one thing, my attitude
contaminated all that I touched… On the other hand, if I aimed to be my best in
one area, that commitment raised my game across the board.”
“I like this.” I say. “You’re on to something,
Dr. Phil!” After all, who can argue with the suggestion that we bump up all of
our efforts to be as productive and excellent as possible?
“You
might want to take a look at the areas in your life that could use some
improvement,” Dr. Phil says, ticking off bad habits like amassing credit card
debt, passing the buck at work, and eating too much junk food. “Even the
smallest change can help you turn things around… Start by taking better care of
what’s around you.”
“OK, that
sounds easy enough,” I respond. But Dr. Phil is just getting started.
“Has your
window screen been torn for the last three years?” he asks me.
“Damn,” I
whisper. “How does he know that my window screen has been torn?”
“Fix it,”
he says.
“Sure,” I
say. “As soon as I fold the six loads of clean laundry sitting in my family
room and buy my kids their costumes for Halloween.”
Dr. Phil
remains impassive.
I read
on. “Is your car a disaster?” he asks me.
“Oh, HELL
NO,” I retort. “We are not bringing
my car into this.”
Dr. Phil
stares at me from the magazine page with a frosty smirk.
“I’ve always been honest about the fact that
my car is a disaster. I try to keep it tidy, but it’s a losing battle. How can
I ferry my three kids around with their snacks, backpacks, water bottles,
soccer balls and dance gear and not
have it resemble a landfill?” I ask.
But Dr.
Phil does not care to hear my excuses. “Clean it up,” he says.
“Jerk,” I
say.
“If you
don’t live your life as if everything matters, you’ll never become everything
you’re meant to be,” he adds.
“Dr.
Phil, your personal credo is bunk!” I
yell. “It looks fine on paper, but in practice it’s ridiculous!” Who does this
guy think he is? He is certainly not
a mother. If Dr. Phil were a mother, he would implicitly understand that not everything matters.
What does
matter: that my children are healthy, clean, fed and educated; that they go to
bed every night smothered with kisses and knowing they are loved. The rest is just
icing on the cake.
I could
be an all-or-nothing person like Dr. Phil and tend to the spot(s) on my carpet
and clean out all my junk drawers, but then I wouldn't have time to
play Uno with my son, take my dog for a walk, or enjoy ten precious minutes alone
with a cup of coffee.
The more
I stew about Dr. Phil’s philosophy, the more I’m convinced he is mucking up the
whole concept of balance. (And,
ironically, isn’t balance one of
those subjects that Oprah herself loves to wax poetic about?) Instead of
feeling compelled to assign meaning to every single aspect of our lives, maybe we
should grant ourselves permission to be a little lax now and then. Because, Dr.
Phil, I do not believe the way I do
one thing is the way I do everything else. I give my family my best, not my
screens.
