Self-improvement is a Chinese finger trap (part 2).

Do you need to be better, smarter, happier? Or do you need a little goddamn support?

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"My head isn't a safe place for me to be."

This confession came from my friend at 2AM, both of us sitting cross-legged on my dorm room floor while a forgettable party raged downstairs. But I had nothing to offer her besides another slice of cold pizza. Not because I didn't care, but because I was drowning in the exact same waters.

I was doing all the "right" things. I had a psychologist, a psychiatrist, and was actively studying neuroscience. I could explain the neurochemistry of anxiety while being utterly incapable of crawling out from under its weight. And I was disgusted with myself for not being able to figure it out.

We were so cute and so little. (Instagram filter from 2012.)

It’s almost like our obsession with feeling good is part of the reason we’re so miserable.

In part 1 of this essay, we unpacked some of the nonsensical premises of mainstream self-improvement:

1. Our happiness is entirely within our control (which makes unhappiness a personal failure)

2. Being happy all the time shows that you are both morally good and objectively successful (so feeling anything else means you should crawl into a shame hole)

3. Negative emotions are undesirable and avoidable (so bury them in a backyard, board up the backdoor, and just pretend that entire section of yourself doesn’t exist)

A decade ago when I set out to “heal” myself, I swallowed these assumptions hook, line, and lead sinker. This created an internal environment that was the emotional equivalent of a toxic dumping ground — shame poisoned every thought, every action, every moment.

Fake it ‘til you feel it, Leona. Don’t wallow. Everyone else seems fine, what’s wrong with you? That wasn’t a big deal, don’t make it a big deal. Practice your breathing techniques. What? You don’t immediately feel 100% better?? Gawd, what is wrong with you?? You’re being such a baby. It’s really not that bad. Others have it so much worse. Spoiled, that’s what you are…

And on, and on, and on.

There was no acceptance in my psyche for anything other than blue-sky, streaming-sunshine serenity. That’s what all those medication commercials and self-help books and spiritual gurus promised, so that’s what I expected. But I NEVER felt like that. Even when I was close — living a literal mermaid dream in the Caribbean (see part 1 for those deets) — I would find a morsel of unexplained dissatisfaction, fixate on it, and spiral.

Which brings us to the fourth and arguably most aggravating logic pretzel of self-improvement:

If negative emotions are deemed both unacceptable and fixable, that sets us on a mission: find and neutralize all negative emotions.

So let’s play that out — binocs raised, you scan your inner horizon for sadness, frustration, judgment, anything icky… What was that flicker?? You zoom in, looking past any and all pleasant emotions to see what’s hiding beyond… Aha! That’s it! You’ve found what you were looking for! Mission accomplished.

So now how do you feel? Successful? Pleased? Happy? At the very least, satisfied with your job well done? I think not.

That nugget of unpleasant emotion you hunted around for, which perhaps exists within the backdrop of a pretty decent life, immediately becomes evidence that you haven’t done enough work, that you are somehow broken, that you’re definitely ungrateful, etc…

This, my friends, is self-surveillance cosplaying as self-awareness.

(Many of us will recognize its true form because it's often accompanied by its chatty side-kick, the inner critic.)

And it is debilitating.

Essentially, self-surveillance is like planting a spy on the inside, constantly looking for ways you are fucking up. And because it lives inside your own head, it finds them constantly. When operating like this, it’s impossible to do anything right. And you know what happens when you feel like you can’t do anything right, no matter how hard you try?

You stop wanting to do anything at all.

In the name of self-improvement, we’ve split ourselves in two. One part feeling, one part judging the feeling. One part human, one part critic. We become both prisoner and warden, inmate and institution. We patrol our own emotional borders with the vigilance of someone who believes the enemy could strike at any moment — and the enemy is ourselves.

(Anyone else seeing this as a wild analogy for autoimmune disease?)

What blows my mind is how many of us have internalized this surveillance system so completely that we actually defend it. We've convinced ourselves that this harsh internal critic is not just helpful, but necessary. (25-year-old Leona included.)

“How else will I change?” a friend recently asked when I questioned their insistence on pointing out each and every place they could be doing better.

After meditating on it deeply for some time (aka recording podcast-length voicenote rants for a few close, patient friends), I realized the issue. We've conflated enforcement with encouragement, resignation with acceptance. The self-surveillance state has fooled us into thinking there are only two options: berate yourself into change or give up entirely. But what if there's a third path — a way to relate to ourselves that doesn't require either cruelty or fatalism?

Let’s do a thought experiment to see how this works.

Imagine a kid on a sports team with a coach who's the classic critic — this piece of work believes that enforcing high standards is the best way to mentor and motivate (or they’ve never thought about it that hard and are just an asshole). Whatever philosophical underpining, when the kid does something well, they get nothing beyond a nod affirming "that is correct." But when they're anything short of flawless, they get a verbal lashing: "How could you do that? What were you thinking? I expect more from you. You owe me 10 extra laps next week." So… how do you imagine this kid feels walking onto the court? Excited, courageous, confident? Probably more like nervous, withdrawn, deeply insecure.

This “critical coach” is your inner surveillance system with a mouthy lean — constantly judging, nitpicking, punishing. Never satisfied, always finding the flaw.

Next, imagine a kid who has a coach that doesn't berate them, doesn't punish them, but doesn't expect anything from them either. Who says things like, "Well, you haven't amounted to much before now, so I don't have high hopes for today either." Who lets the kid leave practice early, give a half-hearted effort, and believe they just don't have what it takes. That kid doesn't walk on the court; they don't even come to the game.

We can call this one the “resigned coach”, and they’re also a lackey of the self-surveillance system — just one with more Eyore-ish tendencies.

So I’m curious, which do you think is worse, the wet blanket or the asshole?

Personally, I think the resigned coach. At least the critical coach believes the kid is capable of something. And so I can see why, when people feel like they have to choose between criticizing themselves into improving versus giving up entirely, they go with the former.

But there's an Option C: a coach that both encourages growth and acknowledges weak suits in order to effectively support their player in becoming the best version of themselves.

Imagine Lucky Kid #3 has a coach who cheerleader as much as guide. When they do anything — literally anything — they're met with encouragement. And when they struggle, they get constructive feedback along with recognition of what they did well. How do they approach the game? Ready to try and play and learn and maybe mess up, but that's part of life.

Will Kid #3 still have down days? Absofuckinglutely. They’re not immune. But thanks to their coach’s style, they will have a different perspective about the rough patches — when they can’t seem to find their rhythm, when their confidence is shaken, when they’re upset or unmotivated for seemingly no good reason.

In other words, Option C shows us that even though we can’t control what we feel, we can control how we relate to what we feel.

We can’t decide “I’m going to be happy now!” but we can adjust the level of judgement or safety we experience within our own skin. No, it’s not as quick as a light switch; most of us can’t just decide, “I am going to be the supportive coach now.” But it’s a muscle we can all train.

We think we're broken; we’re convinced that there’s something in us that needs to be solved… but how often are we just being so cruel to ourselves that we cripple our own ability to learn, explore, grow, and evolve?

Ana and I in Yosemite last summer.

Ok, let’s take a step back and enjoy the full view.

In essence, the magnificent fuckery of our current self-improvement landscape looks something like this:

You deserve to be happy. If you’re not happy, you can look inside and find what’s blocking you from happiness. Oh wait, now you’re focusing on the negative. I told you NOT to do that, you idiot. Write a gratitude list. Are you happy yet? Why aren’t you happy yet??

Thus the finger trap:

The more desperately you try to be happy, the more acutely you feel every unpleasant emotion you've been trying to avoid.

Let that sink in.

No matter which way you slice it, emotional avoidance always becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy: when we attempt to root out and eliminate certain emotions, they end up ruling our lives — we're constantly clenching against them, arguing with them, shaming ourselves for experiencing them, making our lives smaller to avoid triggering them. The emotions you’ve sought freedom from are now running the entire show.

So what can we do?

Dump the surveillance state.

Embrace our natural capacity to feel and flow through any emotion that arises. (More on that in part 1.)

Practice something like self-acceptance and self-encouragement rolled into one: self-allyship.

I’d love to point out that neither acceptance nor encouragement require us to feel a certain way about ourselves. They just require us to show up a certain way for ourselves. I would never ask you to love yourself, to practice gratitude, or to “fake it ‘til you feel it” after all the shame this sort of emotional straight-jacket-ing has caused me. But I will challenge you to experiment beyond your self-talk ruts and see what happens.

Because when we become our own supportive coach rather than our prison guard, we free a massive amount of lifeforce to channel towards Way Better Shit. All that energy we’ve spent whipping, corralling, loathing ourselves can shape-shift into the best support system we’ve ever had, setting us up to feel safe and capable even in hard times. We can be open-hearted, adventurous, excited for a challenge. We can be inspired and creative and ready to change the world with our ideas. We can be honest and kind, able to have hard conversations without collapsing or lashing out.

But not by suppressing parts of ourselves… by becoming our own uncompromising ally.

Climbing in El Portrero Chico in 2023.

Last December I was likely diagnosably depressed. I did the bare minimum for work (thanks for being so flexible, Sue & Melinda!), lost interest in friends and activities, and wanted only to sleep, watch Netflix, or stare out my window into the rain.

And god, did I want to escape this feeling. I wanted to set it on fire, shred it apart, do all the fasts, 75-hards, or midnight-vomiting ceremonies it took to get back to my fiery, goofy self. But I had tried that approach before — for years. And all that unsuccessful fighting ever did was make me very very scared that I would feel like this forever.

So this time, I sank in.

I binged Severance in 24 hours. For weeks I turned off my alarm and slept until 10. I didn't exercise or respond to texts. I read trashy books and scrolled through the dumpster of TikTok, looking for a cat video that could still make me laugh. Winter helped — the cold and darkness felt like permission. They seemed to say, the sun will come out again. The days will grow long and your energy will return. You don’t have to “make” it happen. Just rest, decompose, let go…

I've never surrendered so completely to what felt like emotional death. Anger, grief, even fear have an aliveness to them, a spark that rages against the dying of the light. But apathy — there's never been a feeling I've avoided or judged more. Simply letting life pass me by was as tortuous as it was inescapable…

And yet, I stayed by the side of my despondency. I didn't try to fix it; I simply trusted its quiet wisdom, even as it revealed nothing. All I promised myself was that when I felt the tide shifting, I would honor that too. I wouldn't become attached to my depression, I’d let this winter thaw when it was ready to.

From the outside, it might’ve looked like the resigned coach had taken over and I was giving up. But the internal experience didn’t actually include much despair. Because the entire time I was talking to myself like a mad woman, but a supportive mad woman: I see you're struggling right now. I'm here with you. We'll wait this out together. I have no doubt you’ll emerge on the other side.

And Christ, did I emerge in January like a bat out of hell.

I've never experienced such a rapid shift in energy. In the first week of 2025 I did more work — brainstorming this new substack with Ana, starting an LLC, writing, planning, strategizing — than I had in the entire month of December combined. All because I didn't force myself to feel anything other than what I was feeling?? All because I put my energy into supporting myself rather than tearing myself apart??

It would seem so… If you have a better explanation, I'm all ears.

I don't want to sound flippant. I know many people suffer from seemingly inescapable mood disorders, chronic health conditions, lives strife with insecurity and stress. I understand many people are driven to self-improvement because they are looking for hope wherever they can get it. And now it may come across like I'm saying "It's not that bad! Just sit in it like a pig in mud. If I can do it, so can you." So let me acknowledge that it's always, always more complicated than that.

Each of our internal labyrinths of emotions is uniquely twisted. We all have ways of translating, experiencing, and suppressing our emotions that are so subconscious it can take years of digging to get to the bottom of what we are actually feeling.

So while game-changing, self-allyship will likely not be your silver bullet. But may you add it to your arsenal.

So in my opinion, we’ve been taught the wrong lesson.

The problem has never been feeling afraid, anxious, sad, or overwhelmed. The problem is treating these states as emergencies — reacting with surveillance instead of allyship, with judgment instead of support. It’s that double-thick layer of self-hatred we add on top of our emotions that can turn a bad day into much, much longer.

There will always be something in your life, your body, your emotional landscape that can be "improved." There will always be a thorn or twelve that makes you hiss with pain. So how do we work with that reality instead of fighting against it? How do we avoid condemning ourselves to eternal suffering just because this world contains both heaven and hell, often simultaneously, wrapped around each other?

The only answer I've found is to feel what I feel, without damming the flow.

I am filled with emotion and then emptied out, continuously.

I do my best not to resist either the filling or the flowing, whatever the content — sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain, sometimes motivation, sometimes apathy.

Does this mean my emotions "rule" me? To some extent, yes — but I'd argue far less than when I spent all my energy fending them off like Don Quixote with that windmill. These days, I can acknowledge when I feel like shit without immediately launching into avoidance, healing protocols, or self-flagellation. My emotions are once again weather patterns rather than existential crises. I don't know what emotional weather will blow through next, but I'm no longer stuck in the shit because I can't accept that life includes seasons of rain and cold.

So let’s stop pulling against the finger trap.

Let’s push inward instead — toward emotional acceptance, toward stubborn encouragement, toward the messy truth of our humanity.

Let’s stop seeing ourselves as broken and in need of fixing, and start seeing ourselves as whole, complex, ever-changing, and — here's the kicker — still capable of living a damn good life.

The moment we become our own ally instead of our warden is the moment we find something better than happiness: freedom.

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