Eat. Pray. Love. is about a white woman whose life is a jungle of first world problems. I understand why it’s been massively successful – and of course I can see the value in the message being presented. White women with few problems and high disposable incomes should be influenced to love, self-actualisation and philanthropy – it would make the world a better place. If you can afford to routinely spend hundreds on your clothes you should definitely be investing in self-improvement and then putting your money to better use.
My issue is my own stab of jealousy – I want those problems to be my problems. Why couldn’t my problems be the mildly dissatisfied, disconnected from authentic life problems?
Instead of the rape-victim problems, the drugged problems, the ‘will-anyone-ever-love-someone-as-truly-broken-as-me’ problems, the ‘could-have-been-a-schizo’ problem and so on and so forth.
Then the guilt – my problems pale in comparison to other people’s problems – we’ve all got problems in varying degrees and pain is all relative – someone’s distress at not having the latest handbag might actually equal mine at being told I was ‘damaged goods’, and certainly there are millions of people worldwide who don’t have a fraction of what I have to work with.
I just have to be grateful I suppose.
I am grateful.