Dr. Jordan Peterson is all the rage now, so you won’t believe me when I say I’ve been watching his class lectures on YouTube for years, but I swear on all that is dear to me, I have. Do I get points for that? No. No, I don’t because Peterson has become a one-man psychologist-meets-professor phenomenon — Canadian by birth, American by adoption (we wish), and all the world is now obsessed with his incredible ability to speak articulate truths in a way people wish they had heard before. (I meant it when I said he’s the alpha male America needs.)
People, particularly Americans inclined toward right-of-center politics, love his political views, which seem to increasingly align with theirs. And yet, his real expertise (which is how I originally discovered Peterson) lies in his observations and knowledge about mankind, about the human psyche, about our emotions, our spiritual nature, and our behavior as a result of how those things coalesce (or don’t). Peterson’s target audience is the fledgling, young, millennial male, and indeed it would seem his true gift and joy is helping them find the way out of their mother’s basements, heal their wounded, selfish hearts, and become real men that can help themselves, others, and society at large.
Suffice it to say, I am not a young man. Still, I have found his views profound, wise, articulate, and helpful. Peterson’s book, 12 Rules for Life, which really has nothing to do with politics, is a manifesto of sorts on how to survive and thrive. Here are five pieces of wisdom he mentions in the book I wish I’d known before I turned 30 (or even 20, but such is the timeless nature of his advice).
Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today
This adage would have been apropos 100 years ago, but had I taken it to heart in my early twenties, right as the Internet began to take over the world, I would have had a happier transition to adulthood. As every living, breathing person began to have access to Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, I found myself comparing my lowlights to everybody else’s highlight reel. Combine this with the fact that most people are only showing you what they want you to see, or how they want to be perceived, and you have the bona fide makings of unhappiness, or even depression.
It has been easy, even as a mother of four, to compare my children to other children, rather than compare their progress — educational, athletic, and spiritual — to others, as opposed to the people they were previously. This is important in the age of the selfie, the perfect Instagram photo, the well-crafted tweet, and the people pretending to live lives they aren’t living, but who make you feel jealous, stupid, or unsatisfied anyway. It’s not fair to yourself or your kids, so I’ve tried to stop altogether.
Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them
Speaking of kids, in this one sentence, Peterson, a father himself, described discipline and behavior so succinctly, I only wish I’d read it 11 years ago when I had my first child. All of my children — two of each gender (and two gingers!) — are in some ways fierce, strong-willed, and have given me a run for my money at different times. I am by nature no pacifist, but I am more of an introvert, a peacemaker, and don’t like conflict. As a parent, this means sometimes it has been easier to appease my child, rather than discipline; to allow them to have their way, rather than enforce behavior that would have been better for both of us in the long run.
Peterson describes this phenomenon well in this lecture, and how to handle a child’s temper here. When I first watched these lectures, I had a two, four, six, and eight-year-old, and it was so helpful to hear both what is going on in the psyche of a child’s mind, and how to deal with it. Children do tend to behave in ways that make you feel annoyed, exasperated, angry and exhausted — yet often, I have learned, it’s because I let them. Recently during dinner at my parents’ house, one child started to throw a fit about her place setting. This is unacceptable, and I could feel myself about to dislike her (let’s just be frank), so I sent her to her room where she worked out all her feelings, and when she decided she could return with a “happy heart,” lo and behold, she did. It’s like Peterson knows of which he speaks.
Be precise in your speech
One of the things people seem to love most about Peterson, whether they’ve noticed or not, is how incredibly precise he is in his speech. One never wonders what he is saying or what his words mean — he’s thoughtful, patient in debate, and speaks with precision. By contrast, while I am happy to write this way in a column, I tend to be a bit less precise when it comes to speech in real life, particularly on social media. (My editors are groaning.) This has gotten me in trouble at times, both online and in my real life, with my friends and with my kids.
While most people who know me come to understand (and appreciate?) my hyperbolic nature — c’mon, it’s funny! — it’s helpful and probably best in public to be as exact and precise as possible. My rule of thumb: If I wouldn’t say it to my late grandmother, who had an English degree and was incredibly precise, I probably shouldn’t say it at all. I’m still learning how to do this, but if I’d thought about this more carefully in my twenties, I wouldn’t have to now.
Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world
This is probably the most difficult piece of advice for me, and when I first read it, I felt angry and betrayed and wanted to throw Peterson’s book out the window. However, I assume if I were to tell him this at one of his tour events, he would notice I’m a woman with typical, complex emotions. I assume he would understand and offer me grace and insight, and with his determined nod, convince me of how right he is. As if I need convincing.
Life is literally and metaphorically messy — my childhood was not, but my adulthood has been. I’ve had stages of life where keeping my actual house clean was as hard as keeping my figurative life neat and orderly, and have noticed the default is to truly ignore all that and bark at, whine to, or opine about someone or something else. Peterson would likely say there are moral issues with doing this, but having done this first hand, I would add: It’s a lot harder to keep your own life in order than it is to opine about the state of America (or a friend), which is why everybody tends to deflect and do the latter. I wish I had done this more when I was younger; I’d have fewer regrets.
Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping
I was great at doing this in college, and most people are, but now that I am knee-deep in the throes of balancing motherhood and a career, I wish I’d thought of this sooner. It’s easy, and sometimes feels more noble, to raise your children, develop a career, and invest in friends, rather than treat yourself with kindness, and as Peterson says, as someone you should responsibly help. Though Peterson doesn’t necessarily expound on this idea from the vantage point of parenting, it’s the area where it hit me the hardest.
I wanted to be a mother and have never regretted that great responsibility, but also had no idea how much it would take from my body and spirit. My four children provide a neverending cup of both joy and pain, work and reward. Motherhood has drained me of every ounce of energy while, at the same time, heaping joy upon gladness like no other task. But I have often let this all-encompassing job, the one that G.K. Chesterton said “is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute” take too much; I have often given too much, at the expense of my own health, my own spirit, and my own sanity. When I treat myself like I try to treat the people I am tasked with helping grow into responsible humans, I am healthier, and by default, a better mother too.
Nicole Russell is a contributor to the Washington Examiner’s Beltway Confidential blog. She is a journalist in D.C. who previously worked in Republican politics in Minnesota. She was the 2010 recipient of the American Spectator’s Young Journalist Award.
