I’m no stranger to optimization maxxing and the many forms it’s taken over the years. From the Tim Ferris 4 Hour Work Week promise that you too can live a life of freedom by delegating and automating your work, to Gary Vee’s hustle porn glorifying the rise and grind mentality, to the presently popular 9-9-6 work schedule at AI startups in the Bay desperate to keep up with the winds of change (or should I say gusts). Even if you haven't subscribed to these trends, I'm sure you've heard of them.
I got introduced to optimization maxxing around 5th grade when I first read Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People. Spare me a laugh for the most cliche example there is. To my young adolescent brain with a hefty chip on its shoulder, this was a promising new drug guaranteed to help me optimize my personal growth, social skills, and eventual success. It was my first encounter with a self-improvement book, and I was hooked.
Fast forward nearly two decades, and I’ve read bookshelves worth of self-improvement books. Not to mention an embarrassing amount of Youtube videos, podcasts, Reddit threads, and any other form of media I could get my hands on from these authors / gurus / influencers. All with the goal of becoming as efficient as possible, as productive as possible, as optimized as possible, to make as much money as possible and experience as much life as possible. You get the point. Ultimately, the core theme all of this content go me hooked on was how to do more with my finite life.
I’m not gonna lie: this kind of content and the principles it taught me have definitely helped. They’ve shaped the way I think, act, and move through life, largely for the better. But optimization maxxing has it’s fair share downsides—ones that nobody seems to talk about. More recently, I have felt these burdens on my mental health and psyche, and I know I’m not alone.
If optimization maxxing is a drug, I’ve had my fill. I’m ready to go to rehab.
The symptoms deserve a post all their own, but to highlight the ones that stood out to me:
The feeling of guilt has been pervasive. Times when I’m not focused on work and 100% locked in have often led to feeling guilty. I won’t let myself watch TV in the evenings or read a book, unless it’s to help me fall asleep faster. A voice in my head chastises me for going to a social event on a weekday instead of staying in front of my computer. Hell, even feeling sleepy while already working induces some level of guilt for not being locked in enough, not optimized enough.
My other major symptom has been an overt programming for more. This aspect has gotten me far, but now I’ve bumped my head up against a ceiling a few times. Whatever I have today, it’s not enough. An inordinate amount of traveling and life experiences in my 20s? More. Surrounded by dozens of the most amazing friends on the planet? I bet I could find more. Making more money in a year than I ever thought possible? Nope, not enough.
It doesn’t take much imagination to see the slippery slopes underfoot.
As I’ve recognized these symptoms—let’s call them poor mental habits—I feel more driven and equipped to begin addressing them, to start undoing nearly 20 years of self-administered programming. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?
So, I’m trying to tackle these symptoms with new experiments in personal mental hygiene. The symptom of guilt is a particularly insidious one because it doesn’t have an inherent benefit. Unlike the quest for more, guilt simply exists as a fear-based driver, so that’s where I’m starting my rehab.
I’m not too far into my journey yet, but thanks to some guidance from a friend and a few open-minded experiments on myself, I may have lucked into an early solution to the guilt I feel nearly any time I’m not working. I call it riding the wave.
To ride the wave is to listen to the body, the mind, the flow of the seasons of life, and to internal variables we’re probably not even aware of. Based on those constantly shifting waters, we should make intentional, concerted efforts accordingly. Riding the wave is the antithesis of the brute force optimization maxxing that encourages doing more, all of the time. Because the desire for more is not inherently negative or evil — it can come from carrots rather than sticks. But the expectation of doing more at all times is where things get dicey.
To continue the ocean analogy, imagine you’re a surfer out in the ocean and want to get back to shore. You could brute force paddle your way there, making some progress 100% of the time. Sure, some waves would help you on your journey, and you might even get there faster than waiting for a proper wave, but then you’re gonna be too pooped when you get to shore, only to discover that there’s a nearby mountain to climb (and there are always mountains to climb in life).
So instead, in that same surfing scenario of returning to shore, you can wait more patiently for a proper wave. Maybe you assess the waters around you and paddle a bit to best position yourself for the ebbs and flows of the ocean. When you see the right wave forming, you paddle as hard as you can to catch it and ride it all the way back to shore while feeling like a million bucks. Now that is riding the wave.
Sounds great in theory, but that begs the question: if I want to get back to shore right now, is it worth waiting around for a wave?
Well, I’ve come to learn that no matter how much I optimize my sleep, diet, exercise, supplements, meditation, journaling or any other practices I’ve tried, there is no way to prevent a lull. Life just doesn’t work that way. You can’t will the ocean to produce waves on command, and you’ve got to flex with the conditions you’re given.
Even though I have far more control over myself than I do over the ocean, I’m slowly coming to accept that there will always be forces at play on me, both internal and external, that are out of my control. The best thing I can do is tune into those forces as much as I can and roll with the ebbs and flows happening beneath me. While these forces won’t get me to shore right now, they make for a far more substantial effort. The reality of life is that there are many shores to choose from, and the ones most worth aiming for are a long way off, requiring a series of waves to reach.
I use the “ride the waves” framework as a way to cut myself some slack when I feel like I’m operating below 100%. And not even from a place of forgiveness or relaxation, but rather because I logically accept that it is impossible to operate at a 100% level, 100% of the time. On occasion, I genuinely wake up in a funk and have a shitty day. More often, I have a long-ass workday and feel too drained by 8pm to work on a personal project. In those cases, the ocean has shifted under me, and it’s not worth trying to drown myself to eke out a shred of more productivity.
Now, I’ve talked about riding the wave entirely in the context of downside protection, but there is an upside to it too. When I get a stroke of inspiration or a task I’m genuinely stoked for, I’ve become more willing to let myself ride that wave in the present moment. I’ll stay up past my bedtime to work on something I’m excited about. I’ll spend a Sunday tinkering on something intriguing instead of forcing some pre-Monday work prep or the expectation that “weekends are for social time, so I should totally avoid work.” And believe it or not, I might just let myself watch an episode or two of a TV show when I need to relax and recharge,
At the end of the day, the simple act of acknowledging the existence of the wave feels like a meaningful step on the journey towards rehabbing myself from optimization maxxing.
Thanks for taking a few minutes to read my thoughts :) I’m slowly returning to my love of writing, and your subscription is the best way to support and let me know that I’m going in the right direction 💛
Disclaimer: No part of my personal essays are written using AI of any kind. Odds are that this idea came to me mid-shower, with a shout to Siri to “remind me about X,” (and you cannot give Siri the honor of being called AI). I probably stayed up past my bedtime, rambling away at my keyboard in a half-awake state. And there’s a good chance that you’ll find some grammatical errors in here (Llke in the previous sentence).