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rbruehlman's reviews
128 reviews
Paris: The Memoir by Paris Hilton
emotional
funny
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
5.0
I truly loved this book, and I have so, so, so, so much respect for Paris Hilton. This is the only book I've ever read as an adult that has made me cry.
I find it really difficult to put my thoughts around this book into words. I wish I could. It is such a profound story. Maybe I will revise this review later when I can formulate thoughts around it.
I wish I could personally reach out to Paris Hilton and tell her how much this book meant. Ha. Trying to write this review makes me cry again.
The fact that she persevered in the face of institutionalized psychological torture--that her spirit wasn't broken--that she's risen above it--that she has given a voice to those who have suffered the same: I have no words.
Thank you, Paris.
I find it really difficult to put my thoughts around this book into words. I wish I could. It is such a profound story. Maybe I will revise this review later when I can formulate thoughts around it.
I wish I could personally reach out to Paris Hilton and tell her how much this book meant. Ha. Trying to write this review makes me cry again.
The fact that she persevered in the face of institutionalized psychological torture--that her spirit wasn't broken--that she's risen above it--that she has given a voice to those who have suffered the same: I have no words.
Thank you, Paris.
How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety by Ellen Hendriksen
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
I wish I had read this book years ago. I used to have absolutely crippling social anxiety--not your run-of-the-mill shyness most people experience, but genuinely, truly disabling anxiety. Ellen Hendriksen <i>gets</i> social anxiety, and nails everything about conquering it that I had to learn the hard way. It's gratifying to see everything I learned written so concisely for other people.
Firstly, Hendriksen tackles the complicated intertwining of introversion and social anxiety head-on. In today's culture, introversion and social anxiety are often conflated. However, as Hendriksen astutely notes, introversion is <i>not</i> social anxiety. Introverts are more likely to be socially anxious, but extraverts can also be, too. Introverts recharge by being alone, but they don't necessarily feel <i>anxious</i> interacting with others, and they enjoy their time with others. Sort of like being at a bar with a lot of noise, you could be having a good time, but eventually your brain is just like "yup, we're done here, time to go home." You tap out, spent. <i>That</i> is introversion. Meanwhile, socially anxious people are not enjoying themselves in the moment. The entire process of socializing from beginning to end is exhausting and anxiety-provoking, and it's a relief to just go home and self-isolate. You're drained from socializing, but it's not because you're necessarily introverted: you're drained because you are on fight-or-flight mode 24/7.
A good litmus test, as she notes, is identifying why you don't want to engage in a social activity. Non-socially anxious introverts will reject an activity because it's just not their scene, whereas an anxious person will reject the activity because they're afraid they will say or do something stupid.
I loved that while Hendriksen applauds the growing acceptance of introversion as a legitimate personality type, she also calls out the twin trend of hiding behind introversion when the real problem is social anxiety. I've noticed this as well. If you find normal social interactions anxiety-provoking and simply chalk it up to being an introvert, you give yourself the excuse to avoid facing the fear and conquering it. It's not that you need to be a social butterfly who loves making small talk or going to parties, to be clear! However, avoiding normal activities makes your world much smaller and more stressful than it has to be.
I've found this very true for myself; I thought for the longest time I was extremely introverted. I found being around other people exhausting, and while very lonely, I also vastly preferred being alone. While I knew I was socially anxious, I also thought I didn't enjoy socializing because of introversion. However, as I got a better handle on anxiety, I came to realize I'm actually more on the extraverted side: I genuinely enjoy being around other people. I wasn't drained because I was an introvert, I was drained because anxiety is draining.
Secondly, Hendriksen notes that socially anxious people get caught in self-defeating behaviors and thought processes they're not even aware of. For as much self-monitoring as socially anxious people do, they're somewhat blind to themselves. For instance, many people with social anxiety ruminate on how they will screw things up before a social engagement, and they excessively rehearse and prepare for the worst. However, it doesn't actually make them better able to handle socializing at all. It actually just heightens their anxiety and primes them to fail and misinterpret neutral or positive signals as confirmation they are messing it up.
Moreover, socially anxious people engage in compensatory behavior that can send the completely wrong signals. For the socially anxious who fear others don't like them, a very tempting thing to do is to self-isolate and limit interactions with others--eat lunch alone, avoid joining conversations, and otherwise keep to yourself. It's not that the socially anxious person <i>wants</i> to be alone; they may really want others to reach out! However, others might think the socially anxious person doesn't want to interact with them! The socially anxious person then misreads that as others not liking them, compounding their anxiety. It's a vicious cycle based on misunderstandings.
I used to self-isolate as well because of anxiety. I remember having an "oh shit" moment one time when I was at a work function and saw a socially anxious coworker hang awkwardly around the periphery, too afraid to join any conversations. She didn't look approachable at all. I knew <i>exactly</i> what she was doing and why, because I'd behaved the same way before, and it really drove home how little we're aware of how socially anxious behavior comes across.
On the flip side, though, as Hendriksen notes, most people aren't actually thinking you seem nervous or awkward, and even if they do, they don't really ruminate on it. Socially anxious people are kind of like teenagers in a sense; they think everyone is thinking about them a loooooot more than other people actually are. I think a good reality check for social anxiety is asking yourself, "If someone else did XYZ, what would be my reaction / how would I interpret that?" If you wouldn't really think very much of it if someone else did the same thing, then other people are probably not judging you or thinking that hard about it.
Ultimately, I think the key for treating social anxiety isn't telling someone it's all in their head or other people like them; it's developing metacognition about your own behaviors and thoughts, and being able to distance yourself from them, and then repeatedly exposing yourself to anxiety-provoking situations. I <i>love</i> Hendriksen's suggestion of giving yourself a role in social situations to help combat social anxiety. Social anxiety comes about in part because you're struggling to deal with ambiguity, but if you provide structure to yourself, it's so much easier to navigate the situation. I personally hate introducing myself to new people and making conversation because it makes me anxious, for instance, but when I consider her suggestion to take on the role of making a new person feel comfortable and welcome, I'm actually sort of excited to talk to a new person? Then it's less about me and my performance, and more about helping someone else feel good. Perspective matters.
Firstly, Hendriksen tackles the complicated intertwining of introversion and social anxiety head-on. In today's culture, introversion and social anxiety are often conflated. However, as Hendriksen astutely notes, introversion is <i>not</i> social anxiety. Introverts are more likely to be socially anxious, but extraverts can also be, too. Introverts recharge by being alone, but they don't necessarily feel <i>anxious</i> interacting with others, and they enjoy their time with others. Sort of like being at a bar with a lot of noise, you could be having a good time, but eventually your brain is just like "yup, we're done here, time to go home." You tap out, spent. <i>That</i> is introversion. Meanwhile, socially anxious people are not enjoying themselves in the moment. The entire process of socializing from beginning to end is exhausting and anxiety-provoking, and it's a relief to just go home and self-isolate. You're drained from socializing, but it's not because you're necessarily introverted: you're drained because you are on fight-or-flight mode 24/7.
A good litmus test, as she notes, is identifying why you don't want to engage in a social activity. Non-socially anxious introverts will reject an activity because it's just not their scene, whereas an anxious person will reject the activity because they're afraid they will say or do something stupid.
I loved that while Hendriksen applauds the growing acceptance of introversion as a legitimate personality type, she also calls out the twin trend of hiding behind introversion when the real problem is social anxiety. I've noticed this as well. If you find normal social interactions anxiety-provoking and simply chalk it up to being an introvert, you give yourself the excuse to avoid facing the fear and conquering it. It's not that you need to be a social butterfly who loves making small talk or going to parties, to be clear! However, avoiding normal activities makes your world much smaller and more stressful than it has to be.
I've found this very true for myself; I thought for the longest time I was extremely introverted. I found being around other people exhausting, and while very lonely, I also vastly preferred being alone. While I knew I was socially anxious, I also thought I didn't enjoy socializing because of introversion. However, as I got a better handle on anxiety, I came to realize I'm actually more on the extraverted side: I genuinely enjoy being around other people. I wasn't drained because I was an introvert, I was drained because anxiety is draining.
Secondly, Hendriksen notes that socially anxious people get caught in self-defeating behaviors and thought processes they're not even aware of. For as much self-monitoring as socially anxious people do, they're somewhat blind to themselves. For instance, many people with social anxiety ruminate on how they will screw things up before a social engagement, and they excessively rehearse and prepare for the worst. However, it doesn't actually make them better able to handle socializing at all. It actually just heightens their anxiety and primes them to fail and misinterpret neutral or positive signals as confirmation they are messing it up.
Moreover, socially anxious people engage in compensatory behavior that can send the completely wrong signals. For the socially anxious who fear others don't like them, a very tempting thing to do is to self-isolate and limit interactions with others--eat lunch alone, avoid joining conversations, and otherwise keep to yourself. It's not that the socially anxious person <i>wants</i> to be alone; they may really want others to reach out! However, others might think the socially anxious person doesn't want to interact with them! The socially anxious person then misreads that as others not liking them, compounding their anxiety. It's a vicious cycle based on misunderstandings.
I used to self-isolate as well because of anxiety. I remember having an "oh shit" moment one time when I was at a work function and saw a socially anxious coworker hang awkwardly around the periphery, too afraid to join any conversations. She didn't look approachable at all. I knew <i>exactly</i> what she was doing and why, because I'd behaved the same way before, and it really drove home how little we're aware of how socially anxious behavior comes across.
On the flip side, though, as Hendriksen notes, most people aren't actually thinking you seem nervous or awkward, and even if they do, they don't really ruminate on it. Socially anxious people are kind of like teenagers in a sense; they think everyone is thinking about them a loooooot more than other people actually are. I think a good reality check for social anxiety is asking yourself, "If someone else did XYZ, what would be my reaction / how would I interpret that?" If you wouldn't really think very much of it if someone else did the same thing, then other people are probably not judging you or thinking that hard about it.
Ultimately, I think the key for treating social anxiety isn't telling someone it's all in their head or other people like them; it's developing metacognition about your own behaviors and thoughts, and being able to distance yourself from them, and then repeatedly exposing yourself to anxiety-provoking situations. I <i>love</i> Hendriksen's suggestion of giving yourself a role in social situations to help combat social anxiety. Social anxiety comes about in part because you're struggling to deal with ambiguity, but if you provide structure to yourself, it's so much easier to navigate the situation. I personally hate introducing myself to new people and making conversation because it makes me anxious, for instance, but when I consider her suggestion to take on the role of making a new person feel comfortable and welcome, I'm actually sort of excited to talk to a new person? Then it's less about me and my performance, and more about helping someone else feel good. Perspective matters.
Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig
dark
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
3.0
I instantly knew when I read <i>The Midnight Library</i> that Matt Haig must have suffered from depression. He captured the thought process of a depressed, self-hating person all too well, with a stinging accuracy that a person who has never suffered from depression would be able to write. Depression is irrational, hateful, brutal. There is no real way to describe what it's like unless you've lived it.
This is a very powerfully written books in some respects. Matt Haig poured his soul out into this book, depicting his depression in a very vivid, painful way. To do so must have been both incredibly hard--who wants to think of and relive the deepest, darkest time of your life?--and shame-inducing, because it is showing the most vulnerable side of yourself to the whole wide world.
Still, I just ... didn't connect to the book. His description of his descent into depression was gripping, especially early on in the book, but then I was left with a ... so what? It sounds so cruel to say, given the topic. Maybe there is not supposed to be a point, just sharing someone's experience of depression. But after the first third or so of the book, it just didn't really resonate with me. He doesn't really talk about his experience of getting better. He just sort of does, over time. It felt like a story without a real beginning-middle-end arc, that ends with fuzzy edges and no real sense of closure or finality. The depression recedes over time, and it ends, quietly, with me waiting for some kind of "aha". Anticlimatic.
I found it odd that Matt Haig never seemed to go to therapy or try medication. He does allude to why he didn't want to touch medication, and I can understand his reasoning there. However, I find it difficult to wrap my head around the fact that he didn't really seem to seek out help otherwise. I don't mean to be judgmental when I write this; people can have lots of reasons for not seeking help. Those reasons can be extremely interesting and thought-provoking, and add a richness to someone's story. However, Matt Haig simply never addresses it, and I'm left baffled why he suffered so intensely on his own. I feel like I would have been much better able to connect with his story if he had explored this.
I guess I ultimately I somehow felt disconnected from his experience and who Matt Haig was. It's a very odd sentiment. I feel like I should feel moved by the book, but I just wasn't. I'm unsettled, and I feel sorry for him, but I did not connect with his story and didn't really enjoy reading it.
This is a very powerfully written books in some respects. Matt Haig poured his soul out into this book, depicting his depression in a very vivid, painful way. To do so must have been both incredibly hard--who wants to think of and relive the deepest, darkest time of your life?--and shame-inducing, because it is showing the most vulnerable side of yourself to the whole wide world.
Still, I just ... didn't connect to the book. His description of his descent into depression was gripping, especially early on in the book, but then I was left with a ... so what? It sounds so cruel to say, given the topic. Maybe there is not supposed to be a point, just sharing someone's experience of depression. But after the first third or so of the book, it just didn't really resonate with me. He doesn't really talk about his experience of getting better. He just sort of does, over time. It felt like a story without a real beginning-middle-end arc, that ends with fuzzy edges and no real sense of closure or finality. The depression recedes over time, and it ends, quietly, with me waiting for some kind of "aha". Anticlimatic.
I found it odd that Matt Haig never seemed to go to therapy or try medication. He does allude to why he didn't want to touch medication, and I can understand his reasoning there. However, I find it difficult to wrap my head around the fact that he didn't really seem to seek out help otherwise. I don't mean to be judgmental when I write this; people can have lots of reasons for not seeking help. Those reasons can be extremely interesting and thought-provoking, and add a richness to someone's story. However, Matt Haig simply never addresses it, and I'm left baffled why he suffered so intensely on his own. I feel like I would have been much better able to connect with his story if he had explored this.
I guess I ultimately I somehow felt disconnected from his experience and who Matt Haig was. It's a very odd sentiment. I feel like I should feel moved by the book, but I just wasn't. I'm unsettled, and I feel sorry for him, but I did not connect with his story and didn't really enjoy reading it.
Spare by Prince Harry
slow-paced
2.0
Good God, through much suffering and pain, I managed to finish this dreadful book. I think I would have enjoyed watching paint dry better.
This book started out deceptively okay and interesting! It gave a very heartwrenching, vivid depiction of Princess Diana's death and the impact that it had on Harry. I felt for him. I can't imagine, truly, what it would have been like to have your mother pass away at that age and have both her death and your grief up for public scrutiny. It's cruel and inhuman, and no child should ever be subjected to that. Some people say that the Royal Family is supported by British taxes, and therefore the public is entitled to know about their lives, but does a child get to choose that? And, really, even if you opt out of it, the press still follows you. Constant scrutiny is a hefty price you pay on merit of your mere birth. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
So that part of the book was good. I was actually pretty impressed by the writing; I have to imagine it was ghost-written, but whoever ghost-wrote it was exceptionally good at drawing a scene and making it all very easy to mentally visualize. It really helped drive home the anguish Harry felt as a child.
However, that highly detailed writing style was also the death of the entire book. The entire book is written in excruciating detail. Even the bits that don't matter. God, there were so many bits that didn't matter. I think Harry just did a brain dump of every single memory he ever possessed, and it was written into this book. Harry is a mere mortal like the rest of us, which means the minutiae of his life are ... utterly boring. Scores of pages are dedicated to pointless and detailed anecdotes that are fine at first, but just start to drag after a while. I don't care you played a practical joke on some schmo; can you get on with the important bits of your life already? It's like Lord of the Rings, except nonfiction, where it goes on for excruciating pages about nothing. At least Tolkien was trying to create lore and worldbuilding! Harry's excuse ... I have no idea.
So, as my patience waned, the rest of the book got progressively more and more boring, until it reached a fever pitch and I started getting aggressively bored.
And then Harry himself started to irritate me.
To be clear, I empathize with Harry's situation of being a royal hounded by the paparazzi, 100%. I would never, ever, ever want to be a royal or a celebrity. It's not all it's chalked up to be. Everything you do is under a microscope, up for scrutiny by the public at large. You can't make mistakes as a teen; you can't go anywhere or do anyone without being followed by paparazzis. You lose relationships with people who understandably don't want that life for themselves and opt out of it. At least a celebrity signs up for it (although I don't think even they appreciate what they're signing up for). A royal is stuck with it on merit of their birth.
And I think I would find it hard to ignore the press beating up and spinning stories about me, too. I've always wondered about celebrity rag magazines--they always cite "pals," "sources," "friends," etc., dishing on salacious details about a celebrity's marital troubles or drug issues. Who are these friends, I've always wondered? Hardly friends if they're gossiping to a rag magazine like that. If I was a celebrity having a very private issue and it was leaked to the press, you'd better bet I'd be hellbent on figuring out which of my friends did it and drop the friendship ASAP. Fool me once, maybe, but never again. It makes sense now that many of the stories are simply made up, but to stand by and have your name slandered would be hard for me, too. The personality the press makes up about you has to rub off on you a little.
So I have sympathy for Harry. But it just got old hearing him complain again and again and again about his family and how everyone was out to get him. Toxic families do exist, and I can totally see how the royal family's strange position in society could twist a family dynamic. So, you know, maybe Queen Elizabeth and Charles and William and Kate are awful, toxic people. Who knows! I'm not there. But I found Harry's exploration of their character wanting--who were they beyond intolerant, cruel characters who were supposedly hellbent on hating Harry and Meg? They felt like mere caricatures. Everyone in Harry's book is presented as black-or-white, all-good or all-bad. I suspect there is more nuance than he lets on. Also, what of the rest of the royal family, the ones that aren't under nearly as constant press scrutiny? They were never mentioned--how do they feel about Harry and his situation?
I dunno. After a certain point, between the overexplaining of every life detail and the caricaturization of his family members, I did begin to wonder if Harry was part of the problem. Maybe his family is problematic. The two can be true at the same time. But Harry never, not once, ever, analyzes his role in the family dynamic, even though Harry hints at immature behavior all throughout his twenties. Everyone else is mean and out to get him. The constant one-sided complaining just added to the overall dreary boringness.
Whatever, I don't really care. I'm glad he found solace moving away from the UK, and I hope it all works out for him. Wish him the best. Was still a stupefyingly boring book.
This book started out deceptively okay and interesting! It gave a very heartwrenching, vivid depiction of Princess Diana's death and the impact that it had on Harry. I felt for him. I can't imagine, truly, what it would have been like to have your mother pass away at that age and have both her death and your grief up for public scrutiny. It's cruel and inhuman, and no child should ever be subjected to that. Some people say that the Royal Family is supported by British taxes, and therefore the public is entitled to know about their lives, but does a child get to choose that? And, really, even if you opt out of it, the press still follows you. Constant scrutiny is a hefty price you pay on merit of your mere birth. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
So that part of the book was good. I was actually pretty impressed by the writing; I have to imagine it was ghost-written, but whoever ghost-wrote it was exceptionally good at drawing a scene and making it all very easy to mentally visualize. It really helped drive home the anguish Harry felt as a child.
However, that highly detailed writing style was also the death of the entire book. The entire book is written in excruciating detail. Even the bits that don't matter. God, there were so many bits that didn't matter. I think Harry just did a brain dump of every single memory he ever possessed, and it was written into this book. Harry is a mere mortal like the rest of us, which means the minutiae of his life are ... utterly boring. Scores of pages are dedicated to pointless and detailed anecdotes that are fine at first, but just start to drag after a while. I don't care you played a practical joke on some schmo; can you get on with the important bits of your life already? It's like Lord of the Rings, except nonfiction, where it goes on for excruciating pages about nothing. At least Tolkien was trying to create lore and worldbuilding! Harry's excuse ... I have no idea.
So, as my patience waned, the rest of the book got progressively more and more boring, until it reached a fever pitch and I started getting aggressively bored.
And then Harry himself started to irritate me.
To be clear, I empathize with Harry's situation of being a royal hounded by the paparazzi, 100%. I would never, ever, ever want to be a royal or a celebrity. It's not all it's chalked up to be. Everything you do is under a microscope, up for scrutiny by the public at large. You can't make mistakes as a teen; you can't go anywhere or do anyone without being followed by paparazzis. You lose relationships with people who understandably don't want that life for themselves and opt out of it. At least a celebrity signs up for it (although I don't think even they appreciate what they're signing up for). A royal is stuck with it on merit of their birth.
And I think I would find it hard to ignore the press beating up and spinning stories about me, too. I've always wondered about celebrity rag magazines--they always cite "pals," "sources," "friends," etc., dishing on salacious details about a celebrity's marital troubles or drug issues. Who are these friends, I've always wondered? Hardly friends if they're gossiping to a rag magazine like that. If I was a celebrity having a very private issue and it was leaked to the press, you'd better bet I'd be hellbent on figuring out which of my friends did it and drop the friendship ASAP. Fool me once, maybe, but never again. It makes sense now that many of the stories are simply made up, but to stand by and have your name slandered would be hard for me, too. The personality the press makes up about you has to rub off on you a little.
So I have sympathy for Harry. But it just got old hearing him complain again and again and again about his family and how everyone was out to get him. Toxic families do exist, and I can totally see how the royal family's strange position in society could twist a family dynamic. So, you know, maybe Queen Elizabeth and Charles and William and Kate are awful, toxic people. Who knows! I'm not there. But I found Harry's exploration of their character wanting--who were they beyond intolerant, cruel characters who were supposedly hellbent on hating Harry and Meg? They felt like mere caricatures. Everyone in Harry's book is presented as black-or-white, all-good or all-bad. I suspect there is more nuance than he lets on. Also, what of the rest of the royal family, the ones that aren't under nearly as constant press scrutiny? They were never mentioned--how do they feel about Harry and his situation?
I dunno. After a certain point, between the overexplaining of every life detail and the caricaturization of his family members, I did begin to wonder if Harry was part of the problem. Maybe his family is problematic. The two can be true at the same time. But Harry never, not once, ever, analyzes his role in the family dynamic, even though Harry hints at immature behavior all throughout his twenties. Everyone else is mean and out to get him. The constant one-sided complaining just added to the overall dreary boringness.
Whatever, I don't really care. I'm glad he found solace moving away from the UK, and I hope it all works out for him. Wish him the best. Was still a stupefyingly boring book.