With December coming to a close and the headlights of 2025 racing toward us, many are beginning to think about their New Year’s resolutions. Some of us will be vowing to hit the gym, eat healthier or spend less time on social media. While these common goals are valid and attainable, the idea that we should transform ourselves into our ‘best possible versions’ is both damaging and impossible. This mindset of “personal optimization” is not just an issue during New Year’s. We live in an age where self-improvement is seemingly everywhere. An atmosphere of optimization feels as if it’s closing in, attempting to morph us into something we believe we should become.
Displayed proudly in thousands of bookstores with over 20 million copies sold is “Atomic Habits” a No. 1 New York Times bestseller by James Clear. Clear advertises the book as “a revolutionary way to get 1% better every day.” While this sentiment is optimistic and well-meaning, the notion that it is best practice to “improve” every day poses serious risks. Aspiring to attain optimality strips our lives of spontaneity, fun and our very human nature.
One thing Clear instructs his readers to do is organize their morning routine into “good,” “bad” or “neutral” habits, with the directive to “categorize your habits by how they will benefit you in the long run.” This exercise is intended to increase good habits and eventually eliminate bad ones. As I read this section, I was unsettled. These sorts of practices can make us obsessed with the validity of our actions and how they might affect our future, eliminating our potential to live in the moment. It is impossible to be present when we’re trying to decide if it is “good,” “bad” or “neutral” to put peanut butter instead of jam on our toast. Attempting to predict which option would bring us closer to perfection minimizes the beauty of the now and the reality that, oftentimes, what we do is really not that deep. Spending five minutes on your phone before you get out of bed may not be ‘good’ in the long run, but that doesn’t mean it is inherently bad.
I see another potentially dangerous self-improvement tool from a quickly growing company called Whoop. Whoop is a wristband designed to be worn 24–7 that tracks a variety of health metrics such as heart rate variability, sleep and stress. Whoop’s website says Whoop will: “Track every step of your health & fitness journey” to help you “perform at your best.” Two years ago, I wore a Whoop and became obsessed with the idea of optimizing myself. I was convinced by the notion that to live my best life, I needed to follow the steps Whoop told me would make me the best version of myself. I saw my daily recovery scores go down when I stayed up late or missed a few days of exercise. Consequently, I began to say no to experiences that brought me joy like hanging out with friends late into the night or spontaneous outings that would replace a workout. I saw my recovery score remain steady but felt the happiness being rung out of me like water from a worn-out towel.
According to self-help methods like “Atomic Habits” and Whoop, something fun, spontaneous and fulfilling may be a bad habit or lower your recovery score, therefore preventing you from becoming your best self. However, spending the afternoon sitting around talking with your friends may just be enjoyable in the moment and may not do anything remarkable for you long term. And that is okay. Not everything is a means to an end. Trying to behave as though everything you do should be beneficial strips the wonder away from our messy and imperfect reality. “Best selves” are not created by following a manual of doing ‘good” and avoiding “bad.” A best self is subjective, ever-changing and, in many ways, just a figment.
Self-improvement is an essential part of life. Learning strategies to increase productivity and be healthier can be extremely valuable. Still, we must be careful not to take these entities as gospel and remind ourselves that spontaneous fun with no positive end result is perfectly acceptable and should be embraced. We are not robots meant to be optimized. We are faulty and chaotic humans who can be dumb, lazy, gross and disorganized — and that is truly beautiful.
