What Does "Self Help" Mean?

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I’ve written a lot about the habit of “shoulding” on ourselves, constantly telling ourselves all the things we should do, improve, become, know, achieve, the better version of ourselves we should be. And specifically, the self-aggression of shoulding on ourselves, and the damage it does to our quality of life and ability to enjoy the present moment.

Today, however, I want to investigate another self-aggressive activity we engage in, a close cousin of shoulding. It’s what I call “nexting.” Nexting is the habit of continually poking and prodding ourselves to know what’s next in our life, what we need to do, decide, attend to, accomplish, and create—next. In a nutshell, what else needs to happen. Nexting is the opposite of being in the present moment; it’s forcing ourselves to turn our attention away from what’s here right now.

I was recently speaking with a friend whose youngest child is about to leave for college. She was obsessing over what she could do next to fill her empty nest; should she get a puppy, take up gardening, learn to sail? Later, I had a conversation with a colleague who’d just finished his most recent novel. He literally handed in the final draft the day before. His mind had already begun frantically searching for the topic of his next book. He was frustrated that he didn’t know what was next, assuming it must be writer’s block. Truth be told, I do the same: The instant I finish a project, I start searching for my next idea.

We are conditioned to believe that we must keep moving forward in life, on to the next thing, and then the next, from the cradle to the grave. According to our grand cultural narrative, moving forward, otherwise known as “progress,” is the goal of a good life. It means we’re doing life right.

As women, we’re taught that we have to start reinventing ourselves the instant our last child leaves for college, or the day we miss our first period. And that’s not enough; after that initial reinvention, we have to reinvent the reinvention. We even have a next for after we die, the afterlife, another place to have to get to. The nexts just keep on coming—they never end.

While there’s a lot to be said for moving forward and progressing in life, personally, professionally, and spiritually, what we don’t know how to do is be where we are. We’re really not good at being in the present moment. And, we’re particularly not skilled at sitting in the unknown spaces, those moments when what’s next is not yet clear, when we don’t know what we want to do, explore, or pursue next. At the core, we don’t know how to not know.

Not knowing what’s next makes us anxious; it feels like we’re nowhere, doing nothing. And so our mind rushes to fill the empty space, offering a thousand plans, problems, obsessions, ideas, and whatever else it can come up with for us to do and attend to in the meantime. The mind finds something with which to busy itself, a metaphoric bone to chew on. Once again, it’s not a problem that we want to make use of free time or be productive, but the anxiety that comes along with it, the urgency with which we feel compelled to get on to what’s next, is troubling.

When we’re constantly nexting on ourselves, we’re missing out on the profound opportunity to get to know what it’s like in the unknown and not yet formed space, the in-between, still unclear space. We rush to lock it down and make it something we know. But becoming is a something—its own process. It might be one that’s uncomfortable and unfamiliar, that we’re not accustomed to sitting in, but it’s a place of its own.

What Does "Self Help" Mean?

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Nexting on ourselves, like shoulding on ourselves, can become a form of self-aggression. We use “what’s next?” against ourselves, insisting that we should always know what we want to do next, where we’re headed, and who we want to become. While we may calm the anxiety that comes from having to hang out in the corridor before the next door opens, we create a different kind of anxiety and discontent, the kind that comes from fielding the unending demands to know what we don’t know and, essentially, stop being in the place we actually are.

If you suspect that you may be a habitual next-er, try this. Start paying attention to the voice inside you that asks you to decide or demands that you know what you don’t know yet. Start listening for the voice that tells you it’s not OK to be where you are, that the present moment is not enough, and not a place to land. Notice how often you hear some version of "what’s next?" inside your mind, or feel pressure to make a plan, have an experience, or be somewhere other than where you are. When you hear that voice, say to yourself (silently or aloud) “no next.” Then bring your attention back to what’s happening in this present moment—tune into your body, feel the sensations, drop into your now. Use your own attention to turn the transitional space, what feels like a non-space, into its own place—a destination, not just a launching pad. Ask yourself, "What’s it like right here if there’s nowhere else to get to—no next, just this.”

Play with these questions; see if becoming can become its own destination. Imagine the transitions in life, the corridors between rooms, as an opportunity to be curious about what’s percolating in you and what wants to come next. Relax and resist the urge to fill in the spaces so as to quell your own anxiety. Practice living in the questions rather than figuring out the answers. Not knowing is a place, and once you give yourself permission to be there, you may find that it’s one you can inhabit and even enjoy. The next time you start nexting on yourself, use it as an invitation—not to abandon the present moment, but to lean into it, and be curious about what it’s like to be right where you are. What you discover may surprise and even delight you.

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