Subscribing to Choas

Why I’m Over the Whole ‘Best Self’ Charade

When was the last time you felt like you didn’t need to change, improve, or push yourself to achieve more to feel worthy? Honestly, there was a time when I couldn’t remember a moment when I didn’t see some aspect of myself as a problem to be fixed—whether it was my body, my straightforward yet humorous style of communication (something I have come to admire), or a new skill I felt I needed to master. A recent conversation with a friend got me thinking about how deeply capitalism ties our sense of worth to this endless pursuit of becoming our ‘highest self.’ But what does that even mean? And is it even attainable, or are we chasing an illusion?

Let me set the scene: my friend is a highly successful solicitor with multiple offices across England. He was the first person to take a chance on me when I was still figuring out my career path. I owe him a lot for showing me that simply trying can lead to success, and for giving young Guna the validation to dream big and see adversity as a chance to grow. Our relationship has evolved into a friendship, where our occasional catchups often turn into deep conversations about life and the meaning of our time here.

But as I've matured, I’ve started to question the constant drive to evolve, to improve, and to treat myself like a problem that needs fixing. My friend, on the other hand, is still driven by this relentless pursuit of "better"—always striving for more, never quite content with where he is. It’s not that he’s unhappy, but there’s always this undercurrent of dissatisfaction, maybe even distaste, for his present circumstances. And here’s the irony: despite his success, far beyond mine, I feel a sense of peace and contentment that seems to elude him. His aura is always restless, while mine has found calm.

Mary Ellen Edmund once said, "Wanting less is probably a better blessing than having more." This quote often comes to mind during these interactions. Whether it's my friend, a corporate CEO, or a politician, the more they seem to acquire, the less it satisfies. Instead, it just makes them hungrier, greedier. The cycle is endless, always needing more and never feeling like they’ve reached "enough". And it naturally raises the question: does this constant self-improvement lead to fulfillment?

Throughout history, the desire for self-improvement has driven society forward, from the creation of roads and energy grids to cultural achievements in art and literature. This innate pursuit to better ourselves has contributed to remarkable progress. But somewhere along the way, this natural drive became hijacked by a greedier, more self-centered force. The quest for personal success, once rooted in honourable principles, has turned into a relentless, almost narcissistic obsession.

Look at early self-improvement literature. Samuel Smiles, a Scottish reformer, published Self-Help in 1859, encouraging hard work, frugality, and character development. It was about building individuals who contributed to the collective good. But as we moved into the 20th century, this changed. Figures like Dale Carnegie, with his wildly popular How to Win Friends and Influence People (1936), shifted the focus towards individual success in business and personal relationships. While these works have undeniably empowered many, they also laid the groundwork for a culture that ties self-worth to outward success.

Today, self-help has exploded into a massive industry, selling us the dream of success, but often in narrow terms: wealth, power, and influence. We’re told that the key to happiness lies in becoming the best version of ourselves—an ideal that’s always just out of reach. From life coaches to best-selling books, we are constantly bombarded with the idea that we must do more, achieve more, and be more to find contentment. This obsession feeds into a consumerist system that thrives on our dissatisfaction, making us believe that we’re never enough and that we always need the next book, the next seminar, or the next product to fill the void.

What these modern (Western) self-help ideologies often fail to acknowledge is that success comes in many forms, and it’s not always tied to material or societal standards. The original intent of self-improvement has been overshadowed by this commodification, which keeps us in a loop of striving and spending—enriching others while leaving us feeling inadequate.

Honestly, I’m over it. It’s not that I’ve given up on growth—it’s still rewarding to adapt, manage emotions, and improve relationships. But I’m done believing that I need to figure everything out before I can fully live my life or become my "highest self." Does this mythical highest self even exist? If humans are constantly evolving, doesn’t that mean our highest self is ever-changing too? It becomes a race with no finish line—a goal we can never fully achieve. Instead of endlessly striving for an unreachable ideal, maybe it’s time to accept that we’re enough as we are, right now.

So, I’m embracing the messiness. I want to make mistakes, grow through the chaos of living, and let go of the need to overanalyze everything. Real growth comes from accepting that life is imperfect. Here’s the truth: perfection doesn’t exist. It’s subjective—what’s perfect for me isn’t for you. Yet society sells us a narrow version of success based on achievements, wealth, and status, making us believe that’s the only way to live a good life. But that’s how systems control us—by making us obsessed with ego, money, and competition.

This manufactured idea of a “good life” isn’t universal; it’s just another way to keep us chasing something outside of ourselves. It encourages us to put materialism above all else, disconnecting us from what truly matters—community, connection, and a sense of belonging. Look at how indigenous peoples were labeled “savages” simply because they valued land, community, and harmony over individual greed. Their priorities didn’t align with the capitalist ideal, so they were considered ungovernable. In many ways, that resistance to control is powerful because it challenges the notion that we must fit into this mold of endless self-improvement, success, and consumption.

This obsession with perfecting every part of our lives—whether through productivity hacks, ideal bodies, or vast wealth—feeds a system that keeps us locked in a cycle of self-betterment. For what? To keep us striving for an impossible standard, enriching those who sell the dream. The "perfect life" is just a tool that fuels capitalism, keeping us too distracted to question the deeper, more meaningful aspects of existence.

So, screw it. SCREW IT. Call me lazy, say I lack ambition, or that I can’t compete in this society. Maybe you’re right. But it’s tough to compete in a race I never chose to run. Why should I chase after things that don’t bring me joy, to meet someone else’s definition of success? I’d rather step out and define fulfillment on my own terms.