I Don't Like Self-Help Books

I don't like self-help books.

I used to read a ton of them when I was younger. Probably because reading one made my heart race, made me feel like I could do anything. Like I should go challenge something right now, and if I didn't, I was just being lazy. Like anything I started, I'd pull off in no time.

Then somewhere along the way, reality hit.

Wait. Is this right?

When I actually thought it through, the advice flipped completely depending on who was talking. Author A says do what makes your heart race. Author B says grit your teeth and endure, even if you hate it. Author C says forget that, just walk out and live a joyful life. Author D says you can't only do what you want, so put your head down and grind.

So... what exactly am I supposed to do?

I spun around in that loop until it finally clicked: this is a business. Emotional bait to sell one more book. That realization put a scratch on my once-pure heart, and from then on I didn't so much as glance at self-help books or life-advice lectures. Because in the end, here's what they do: they say the things struggling, fragile people wish someone would say to them, wrap it up as their own glorious success story, and shout through the marketing, "I'm a great person, and you should adopt my values too!"

So I set one rule for myself. Every self-help book boils down to the same three things anyway. Work hard. Stay consistent. Be a decent person. Those three show up in every book, every philosophy. I decided to carry just those and move on.

And then, recently, I caught myself feeling completely drained.

Elementary school to university to work. Thirty years of running without a break, more or less. Study, succeed, make money. At first I thought this whole process was my own satisfaction, my own goal. I believed I was a special kid, that I'd turn out somehow different from everyone else. Then one day I looked back and saw just an ordinary person standing there, covered in the grime of the world.

Come to think of it, I don't know what I like. What makes me happy. What I love. What I hate.

I just do it. Chasing the "success" everyone talks about.

Exactly as the books taught me. You must succeed. You must not rest. You must quietly endure. Your heart must race. As if these were rules I had to live by.

And then a YouTube video found me. (The algorithm served it up while I was eating.) It was Graham Weaver's talk from Stanford GSB's Last Lecture series, "How to Live Your Life at Full Power."

Hmm.

Right. It's all true. It sounds like my story. Which probably means everyone's living with roughly the same thoughts.

The video made three points:

1. Pull out the nail. Even if it hurts, work to remove whatever binds you: the bad habits, the fears.

2. Follow the energy. This isn't about one grand dream or a single burning passion. Imagine the different lives you could shift into from where you stand now, and pick the one that makes energy surge.

3. Bet everything. Keeping one foot in each world is a colossal waste of time. And "I'll put my dream on hold, now isn't the right time" is just as dangerous a thought.

But could I actually make decisions like that?

What is my nail, exactly? The one only I can't see. What's sitting deep inside me, holding me back? And why does it take this much energy just to think about it?

Energy, huh. Is mine depleted? Or have I simply never found it? How do I even begin imagining the nine futures I want?

Have I ever had something precious enough to bet my life on? Something I wanted to protect that badly? Have I lived too comfortably? Then why did it hurt?

Can the version of me that postponed his dream still reach it? And if I just went for it, could I pay the price?

Too many thoughts started flooding in.

Honestly, I can't work up the nerve. The video's message is simple, but the moment I try applying it to my own life, it feels like walking into a level-999 stage and meeting the final boss.

So I'm going to make some time. This birthday, I want to slowly get to know myself: the nine lives I want, the things I'm afraid of, the things I've been keeping locked away.

Isn't it hilarious, though?

Thirty years since I was born and I still don't know who I am. And yet I expect other people to understand me.

Humans. Honestly.