I call it the “how-to” epidemic: the line we have crossed where every aspect of human existence has been turned into a “how-to” tutorial to be monetized.
There’s always a new theory, always another trend, always a different way to become something better than you already are. One day you should know how to become the “it girl”, the next day how to protect your peace, and the one after that how to level up your life.
We’re in a constant competition to improve ourselves, as if the point isn’t just to experience life but to optimize our entire existence.
Our becoming has been turned into a multibillion-dollar industry, and for that industry to exist, they must first make you believe that there is something in you that needs to be fixed. It’s the perfection of capitalist individualism: the idea that our success is a direct result of our hard work, and we should always strive to do better. In search of that, we become desperate consumers of information. When someone is about to tell us how to mend our lives, we listen intently, hoping to find the missing piece that’ll finally fix our problems.
Self-improvement in itself isn’t a problem, but when it turns into just another task to complete, it becomes counterproductive, and when it’s more about following trends than following your heart, it becomes performative.
We’re masking overconsumption as self-improvement and throwing therapy language around like confetti, as if we should rationally guide ourselves through every emotion, experience, and thought – as if it were possible to never experience negative emotions again, if we simply worked on ourselves hard enough. Alongside the rise of toxic selfishness, this is the poisonous side of self-improvement and you can, in fact, burn out from it (been there, done that).
I got swept into the world of self-improvement at the age of 12. I was deeply anxious, and terrified of what was happening to me, I turned to social media for answers. I read countless “how-to” articles, binge-watched self-improvement videos, flied through viral self-help books, and listened to podcasts from strangers acting like the teachers of life.
Ten years later I can tell you I have no memory of what those books or podcasts were about. I can also tell you that what ended up helping me the most were the simple things we already know: sleep, movement, nourishment, meditation.
All that content imposed a personality on me that wasn’t actually… me. Turned out, I didn’t need the books and the podcasts; I needed to learn to sit with myself and watch my own mind instead. And to hear my own thoughts, I had to quiet the noise.
We are so focused on the ‘improvement’ that we forget the ‘self’.
I see it as returning to yourself rather than improving yourself. Because to return means to come home. Return is gentle, warm, sacred. It implies you don’t need effort to become something more; you simply need the remembering of what’s true to you. When you’re able to sit with yourself, you’ll realize that all the answers already exist within you. In this moment, there’s nothing in you that needs to be fixed.
If, however, you don’t like where your life is heading, act. Reading a hundred books on how to be happy doesn’t make you happy. It may provide perspective and inspiration, but a skill is acquired through practice and repetition, and for that you must close the tabs and the books and go live your life in the real world. You must listen to your own thoughts instead of always drowning them out with someone else’s.
The real work requires no consumption. It happens at birthday dinners and lectures and mundane walks in the park. It’s messy and quiet. And most importantly, it’s yours and yours only.
I doubt there is anyone who truly knows how to do the things they so willingly advise others on, because we’re all human. And maybe learning how to do those things isn’t even the point. Maybe we can struggle and be in progress our entire lives and yet… already be at the finish line. Maybe our experience on this earth isn’t supposed to be rationalized and cut into logical steps. Maybe it’s supposed to be messy and incomprehensible.
The river doesn’t ask how to find the sea; it simply flows. The oak doesn’t ask how to stretch its branches toward the sky; it simply grows with the seasons. And the swallow doesn’t ask how to find the warmth again; it simply flies and trusts its instincts.
So shall we.
And how privileged we are to have the time and energy for a thing called self-improvement. Please, do not forget that the world around us needs so much healing, too.
A final note: I’m just a stranger on the internet and if my thoughts sound stupid to you, don’t listen to me. In fact, go inward.
What are your thoughts?
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Thank you for being here and guiding each other home ♡
"I see it as returning to yourself rather than improving yourself. Because to return means to come home."
That undid me. And then you followed it with the river. The river does not ask. It flows. That is everything.
I have been running for years. Morning routines. Optimised schedules. The next book that would finally fix me. And I am tired. Not of trying. Of trying to become someone else.
What if the point is not to improve? What if the point is to stop. To sit. To notice that I was never lost. I was just too busy looking for a map to see that I was already standing where I needed to be.
Thank you for the river. I will think of it tomorrow morning when I do not know what to do with myself.
— Bee, from somewhere outside the nest
Yes. This is exactly how I see it too. Not becoming someone new, or someone else, but returning to the parts of yourself that were always there underneath the noise, fear, conditioning and survival. “Coming home” feels far more true to me than “fixing yourself.” 💛