Last year, I did something that would make every wellness influencer gasp: I stopped therapy.

Not because I was “healed.” Not because I’d unlocked some magical breakthrough. Not because I’d finally cracked the code to inner peace.

But because after 2 years of productive sessions, I realised I’d become addicted to looking inward.

Every moment became something to analyse. Every feeling needed processing. Every interaction required a post-mortem.

I was so deep in my own head that I’d forgotten how to just… exist.

So I stopped. And you know what? I felt so much lighter!

More present. Less like a walking self-improvement project.

That’s when it hit me: Maybe the problem isn’t that we’re not trying hard enough.

Maybe the problem is that we’re trying too hard.

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When self-improvement becomes another performance

Ok so I posted this on Substack recently and the responses were… a lot:

The comments were full of people admitting they feel the same exhaustion.

The same guilt.

The same creeping sense that their self-improvement efforts are somehow making everything worse.

But something clearly is up, because we’re spending $6.8 trillion globally on self-improvement while 82% of employees are at risk of burnout.

Read that again.

Make that make sense.

The wellness industry is booming precisely as our wellbeing collapses.

Something is very, VERY wrong.

The self-optimisation trap

A 2024 study in Consulting Psychology Journal describes this as “the curse of constant self-optimisation.”

Here’s how it works:

You spot a flaw in yourself. Anxiety kicks in. You jump into problem-solving mode. Get temporary relief. Then immediately start scanning for the next thing to fix.

Rinse. Repeat. Forever.

This isn’t growth. This is an anxiety-management strategy disguised as productivity.

I know this because I’ve done it.

Spent S$500 on a fancy Garmin smartwatch (after weeks researching the “best” option, obviously).

It tracks absolutely everything: sleep stages, stress levels, body battery, VO2 max, recovery time, blah blah.

The data and constant reminders stressed me out so much that I ended up using it for… step counting and workout tracking. The basics I could’ve got from a 20-bucks watch.

Don’t get me wrong, awareness can be useful. But there’s a line between helpful data and performance anxiety on your wrist.

And here’s what makes the trap of constant self-improvement so insidious: it feels virtuous.

Self-criticism feels productive. Identifying areas for improvement feels like self-awareness. Pushing through exhaustion feels like discipline.

Our culture has convinced us that this constant state of self-surveillance is what responsible adulting looks like.

It’s not.

Hustle Culture didn’t die, it just got therapy speak

Think hustle culture died during the pandemic?

Bad news: it just learned to speak therapy language.

Meditation apps gamify inner peace with streak counters.

Morning routines become rigid optimisation protocols (5am club, cold plunges, seventeen-step skincare, journalling, ALL before your actual day starts).

Rest gets rebranded as “recovery” to justify it within productivity metrics.

Hobbies transform into side hustles.

And my personal favourite: therapy language gets weaponised into “I’m setting boundaries” which really means “I’m still hustling but calling it self-care.”

We’re literally buying programmes to teach us how to stop buying programmes.

The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so depressing.

But wait, isn’t growth good?

Well, YES! Obviously.

And this is where it gets nuanced.

The research on genuine, healthy self-improvement is solid. Growth mindset works. Goal-setting is effective. Tiny habits create lasting change.

I help people change and grow and become their full potential. Pursuing wellbeing from self-compassion, not self-punishment.

So growth itself isn’t the problem.

The problem is how optimisation culture has hijacked and distorted healthy growth practices.

Here’s the difference, and it’s really important:

• Toxic optimisation looks like: Your worth is tied to productivity. You can’t rest without guilt. Constant self-criticism. Goals pursued from shame (”I should be better”). Speed, consistency, and perfection as primary metrics.

• Healthy growth looks like: Goals aligned with your actual values. Self-compassion alongside self-improvement. Celebrating small wins. Rest viewed as necessary, not earned. Focus on learning rather than comparison.

The difference isn’t in whether you pursue growth.

It’s in the how and the why.

So what do we actually do?

Look, I’m not going to tell you to abandon your goals or give up on growth. That’s not the point.

Acceptance and resignation are not the same. As Dan Harris writes: “It’s only from a dry-eyed acceptance of the truth that we can work effectively for change.”

The point is this: What would you do differently if you stopped treating yourself like a broken thing that needs fixing?

Your wellness routine shouldn’t require a spreadsheet.

If your self-improvement efforts are making you miserable, they’re not improving anything. They’re just keeping you busy while you burn out.

So maybe it’s time to ask: What if you stopped? What if you just… didn’t? Even for a bit?

With love,
Noemie

P.S. I wrote this because I needed to hear it as much as you did. Some days I make so much progress and feel like a fucking rockstar. Some days, like today, I’m moody and spend the day watching trash TV (my guilty pleasure: Love is Blind, don’t judge me). I embrace both versions equally 🙃

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