Unlock Your Best Self — yeah I’m gonna say it right in the first sentence like the SEO gods demand — are the only thing standing between me and permanently living in sweatpants scrolling Zillow for houses I can’t afford.
It’s January 19, 2026 and I’m sitting here in my apartment (somewhere in the US, let’s not get too specific because the walls are thin and the neighbors already hate my 2 a.m. keyboard typing). There’s half a cold brew sweating on my desk, a stack of unread New Yorker magazines I bought to “become smarter” last April, and my cat is aggressively cleaning himself two inches from my elbow. This is the glamorous scene from which I dispense wisdom.
Why Most Self-Improvement Strategies Feel Like a Scam to Me
I used to devour those 5 a.m. club books. You know the ones. Wake up at dawn, chug lemon water, journal your “big why”, cold plunge, manifest a private jet by Tuesday. I tried. God I tried.
One morning in like October 2024 I set six alarms, put my phone across the room, even slept in gym clothes so I’d “just do it”. Woke up at 6:47 a.m. to my phone screaming from the kitchen, tripped over the cat, face-planted, and then cried while eating leftover lo mein straight from the carton. Very on-brand “unlock your best self” moment.
So yeah… I’m skeptical now. But weirdly, some stupidly simple things have actually stuck.
The Three Self-Improvement Strategies That (Kinda) Survived My Chaos
1. The Two-Minute “Embarrassingly Small” Rule
I stole this from somewhere (sorry brain, I forget) but made it dirtier. If a habit feels overwhelming, make it so small it’s almost insulting.
Examples from my actual life right now:
- Want to exercise → literally just put the running shoes on and stand in the living room for 120 seconds
- Want to read more → open the Kindle app and read one sentence
- Want to stop doom-scrolling → put the phone face-down for two minutes and stare at the ceiling like a depressed philosopher
I’ve been doing the shoes thing for 41 days straight (yes I’m counting because I’m that person). Some days I end up doing 30 minutes. Most days I just stand there feeling ridiculous and then go make tea. Either way the streak continues.
Feels dumb. Works anyway.
2. Talk to Yourself Like You’re Your Own Drunk Best Friend at 2 a.m.
This one sounds insane but hear me out.
I used to have a nonstop inner monologue that went: “You’re disgusting. Why are you like this. Everyone else has their life together. You’re 30-something and still can’t fold a fitted sheet.”
Now I literally say (sometimes out loud, which is why my neighbors love me):
“Bro. You got out of bed. You brushed your teeth. You answered one email without crying. That’s actually insane. I’m proud of you, you chaotic little legend.”
It feels fake at first. Then it feels sarcastic. Then one day you realize you’re not being ironic anymore.
There’s research on self-compassion (here’s a solid overview from Kristin Neff’s work: https://self-compassion.org/) but honestly I don’t need a study to tell me that calling myself a worthless slug 24/7 was not helping me “unlock my best self.”
3. Track One Number That Isn’t Money or Followers
Pick something stupidly small and track it daily. Not for clout. Just to see the line go up.
Mine right now is “times I drank water before coffee.” Current streak: 17 days. Highest ever: 22 days (then Christmas happened and everything derailed).
Other dumb ones I’ve tracked:
- Days I left the apartment (even just to get the mail)
- Nights I didn’t fall asleep to Netflix autoplay
- Times I said “no” to something I secretly wanted to say no to
The trick is: don’t judge the number. Just watch it. It’s weirdly addictive.
15 Best Free Habit Tracker Apps To Check Out
(Think clean habit grid with checkboxes—perfect backdrop for yours like “Days I left the apartment (even for mail)” or “Nights without Netflix autoplay betrayal”.)
Here’s a decent free habit tracker I actually use: https://www.habitica.com (gamifies it so my inner child stays interested).
The Messy Truth About Becoming Better
I’m not a morning person. I still eat cereal for dinner sometimes. My apartment looks like a bomb went off in a thrift store. I ghosted therapy for three months because “I was fine” (spoiler: I was not).
