i’ve spent the past few months (if not years) actively working on becoming “more better” mentally, energy-wise and health-wise. so, how do i feel better? should i use more productivity tools, more wellbeing tools, “hack” my sleep or diet, meditate, do cardio, move mindfully, socialise, isolate? thousands of people who “figured it out” talk about ten things that improved their lives and solved all their problems, all backed by metrics and exact daily schedules. who wouldn’t love to be that perfect human who wakes up at 5:30, checks their sleep recovery score on a health app, exercises, meditates, and has the healthiest colourful breakfast — all by 7am. then they could have a few successful deep focus work sessions thanks to a pomodoro-like method, followed by focused family time (yes, even that). some self-improvement afterward — maybe meal prep, maybe monthly planning, stretching or yoga? i caught myself desperately trying to become the best version of myself and feel the best possible, because there must be that perfect ratio of work and rest, perfect diet, perfect workout schedule, right? and then i stopped and realised that the wellbeing culture, which was supposed to save me from hustle culture, just gave me more reasons to feel like i’m failing. breathe in, breathe out. i’m just an oddly shaped human with back problems, tummy ache, and a tendency to overshare, floating in space on a tiny rock. is it really this serious? as kurt vonnegut said, “we are here on earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you any different.” maybe i don’t need to be good. maybe i need to just be. angry, messed up, hungry, have bad days, with a ruined sleep schedule, order takeaway all week. but this also makes me a passionate human. only when i gave up on even trying to do well i realised that i’m sad not because i don’t do pilates and haven’t had a proper homemade meal in weeks. i’m sad because i don’t do what i want with my life (let’s leave it for another oversharing post). so no, i haven’t figured it out. i don’t have a perfect schedule nor a recipe for success. i’m just farting around and calling it a life now.