There is apparently a better version of us out there.
We know this because the internet reminds us constantly.
This version wakes up at 5:30 a.m. without hitting snooze. Drinks water before coffee. Works out because they “love moving their body,” which is suspicious because most of us have moved ours plenty of times and have rarely felt the need to post about it.
They journal.
They meditate.
They eat enough protein.
They have boundaries.
They read before bed instead of spending forty-five minutes watching strangers reorganize refrigerators we will never see in person.
Their finances are automated. Their closet is edited. Their nervous system is regulated.
And presumably, somewhere between the morning sunlight and evening magnesium, they are very, very happy.
We have never met this person.
But we've spent an extraordinary amount of time trying to become them.
And we couldn’t help but wonder:
When did being ourselves become something we were supposed to grow out of?
The Person We’re Supposed to Be
There was a time when self-improvement seemed fairly straightforward.
Read more books. Learn from your mistakes. Be kind. Call your mother.
Now?
Being a person appears to require a project manager.
There is always something we should be working on.
Our bodies. Our careers. Our relationships. Our finances. Our homes. Our skin. Our sleep. Our gut health. Our attachment styles.
Even relaxing has become competitive.
You can't just take a bath anymore. You need salts, candles, lymphatic drainage and a podcast explaining how to properly recover from the week.
Walking became 10,000 steps.
Eating became macros.
Sleeping became a score.
Drinking water became carrying around a vessel roughly the size of a toddler.
Somehow, we managed to take the most basic functions of human existence and give them performance reviews.
Potential Is a Terrible Roommate
Of course, there is nothing wrong with wanting more for ourselves.
We have goals. Plans. Things we'd like to change. Things we'd like to accomplish.
But “potential” has become this strange little voice following us from room to room.
You could be doing more.
You could be thinner.
More successful.
Better read.
More disciplined.
More present.
More organized.
More interesting.
More financially responsible.
More emotionally evolved.
Apparently, after becoming all of those things, we're also supposed to be more rested.
It's exhausting.
And perhaps the strangest part is that we're rarely encouraged to ask whether we actually want the life belonging to this improved version of ourselves.
We just assume it's better because they're better at everything.
The Business of Not Being Enough
There is also an inconvenient financial reality to all of this.
A person who wakes up one morning and thinks, You know what? I'm actually pretty okay, is not an especially exciting customer.
But someone who believes they're approximately three purchases away from becoming an entirely new person?
Excellent for business.
There is always another solution waiting.
A supplement.
A planner.
A treatment.
A course.
A serum.
A membership.
A morning routine.
A nighttime routine.
A routine for recovering from all our other routines.
We are constantly being introduced to problems we didn't know we had, followed rather conveniently by products designed to solve them.
Perhaps dissatisfaction isn't always a personal failing.
Sometimes it's a business model.
What If Tuesday Is Just Tuesday?
I think this is where we've gotten ourselves into trouble.
We've become so accustomed to improvement that we've forgotten how to simply have a life.
Not every dinner needs to meet a nutritional goal.
Not every hobby needs to become something we're good at.
Not every outfit needs to photograph well.
Not every vacation needs an itinerary.
Not every evening needs to be productive.
And not every Tuesday needs to contribute meaningfully toward becoming our highest self.
Sometimes Tuesday can just be Tuesday.
We order something mediocre for dinner.
We watch three episodes of television.
We don't answer the email.
We don't hit our steps.
Nothing transformative happens.
And somehow, the earth continues rotating.
I’ll Be Happy When...
Maybe the most dangerous thing about constantly becoming is that it gives us permission to postpone living.
I'll wear that when I lose weight.
I'll invite people over when the house is finished.
I'll take the trip when I have more money.
I'll relax when work settles down.
I'll take the picture when I look better.
I'll be happier when I'm more confident.
I'll enjoy myself when I finally get my life together.
And then suddenly, five years have passed.
The house changed.
Our bodies changed.
Our friendships changed.
Our parents got older.
Our children got older.
We got older.
And all those years we thought were preparation?
They were our life.
Maybe This Version Gets to Come Too
I don't think we should stop growing.
Hopefully we're different ten years from now.
Wiser. Kinder. Braver. Hopefully better with money and significantly less likely to purchase clothing for imaginary events.
But maybe we shouldn't spend the next ten years treating the people we are today like embarrassing first drafts.
Maybe this version gets to come too.
Maybe we open the good bottle.
Maybe we wear the dress.
Maybe we have people over while the house is imperfect.
Maybe we change our minds, waste an afternoon, order dessert, make a questionable purchase, laugh too loudly and occasionally do something that contributes absolutely nothing to our personal development.
Because there will always be another version of us waiting somewhere in the future.
Thinner. Richer. Wiser. More successful. Better dressed. More disciplined.
But they have one significant disadvantage.
They aren't here.
And maybe the people we keep trying so desperately to become aren't the ones who need our attention.
Maybe it's time we paid a little more attention to the people already living the lives we're so busy trying to improve.
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