It’s Not Fun Anymore, Monica

Helpful Suggestions and Other Personal Attacks

Photo by Daniel Herron on Unsplash

Well-intentioned people love telling me about things that are “good for me,” like I didn’t already hyperfixate on it for two weeks straight, burn out, and pretend it never happened.

“You should try this, it would be soooooooo good for you.”

Cool. Head nod. Thanks.

Now I’m never doing it.

Here’s the irony: I know it would be good for me. I was literally about to do it, but the second someone else turns it into a thing — BOOM — my motivation gets replaced with anxiety, irritation, and full-blown shutdown.

My soul checks out.

My brain nopes the fuck out.

This is what happens when my nervous system interprets helpful suggestions as threats.

It even has a name: Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA).

Harsh label, but it tracks.

I didn’t know this was a thing until I saw this note from Kelly @divergentcoachkelly.

Immediately sent it to my sister, the one who is constantly trying to get me to do things that are “good for me.” All well-intentioned. Still annoying as hell.

She responds with:

“Whyyyyyy.”

So I looked into it.

Turns out, this delightful trait has a root cause: my brain hates being told what to do.

The second something shifts from “I want to” to “You have to,” my nervous system flips. I could have been hyped about this 2 minutes ago, but now it feels like pressure.

I’m out.

My brain says, “Absolutely not.”

Here’s the kicker: I didn’t suddenly lose interest. I lost ownership.

The second someone else takes the reins, my brain shuts it all down.

It’s like when Monica planned fun. “It’s not fun anymore, Monica.”

Here’s how it plays out:

Someone close to me gets really into working out, starts meditating, journaling — ya know, the whole wellness thing.

They’re excited about it.

Loudly.

Passionately.

Every fucking day.

Meanwhile, I’d been thinking about doing the thing. But the second it became A Whole Thing™ — with gentle nudges and wellness updates — I reach for a cookie and say,

“Fuck it.”

I was going to end this with something insightful, but my soul checked out, and my brain noped the fuck out.

Until the next burst of unsolicited, undemanded inspiration…