Self Help Doesn't Actually Help You

Self Help Doesn't Actually Help You

I want to tell you a story about how self help seriously messed me up.

It started when I was 15. I was shy, liked to play football with my mates, but most of my time was spent in my room designing games and reading.

I was bullied at school and never really had any luck with girls. I lacked confidence and desperately wanted to connect with people.

Then the summer holiday of 2016 changed everything.

One day, feeling lonely, I wandered downstairs and caught a glimpse of Bear Grylls drinking water from elephant dung on TV. I thought, “What the actual hell?” but I kept watching.

He was jumping out of helicopters into breathtaking landscapes, living off the land. I was hooked.

After bingeing every episode, I had an idea: follow in his footsteps.

So I bought a SAS training guide. I still have it. Inside was a program designed to get you fit enough to join the SAS. I laced up, headed out for a run, and within minutes I was gasping for air.

I ran a few strides and instantly had a stitch.

This continued for weeks. But gradually, I got fitter.

The injuries came: plantar fasciitis, patellofemoral pain syndrome, IT band syndrome, and intense back pain that sent me to a physio.

But the training fascinated me. And I started to see noticeable results. I walked into school more confident. I filled out my uniform better. I spoke to girls with less fear.

I thought, “If I can improve myself by reading and taking action, what else could I become?”

So began my obsession with self help.

Years passed. I devoured everything: social skills, money, productivity, emotional intelligence, fixing every flaw.

By my mid 20s, life was at its peak. I was making more money than ever. I was in my best physical shape. I had a thriving social circle. I was a gym manager as well as a successful PT.

What else could I want?

Then in 2016 my Nan passed away.

Everything spiralled.

Suddenly the self help books I’d been depending on were useless.

I was doing drugs multiple times a week, drinking 3 nights a week. I went back to self help books but the more I read, the more I analysed myself. Every imperfection, every flaw.

The closer I got to “understanding” myself, the more I hated who I was. I thought I needed to fix everything.

Self help taught me that I was broken. That I needed to be repaired.

Every book had something, but none had the one thing I craved.

When I turned 30, I banned self help books completely. And after experiencing the darkest depression of my life during lockdown, I finally went to therapy.

That is when I figured it all out.

My whole approach had been wrong.

I was trying to fix layers of myself, one by one, like peeling an onion. But I had never gone to my core: my childhood.

With my therapist, we began rebuilding that inner child. The boy who was bullied. Who never felt good enough. Who didn’t feel safe in his own skin.

We worked on reparenting him.

And once I understood that, everything changed.

For the first time in my life, I felt whole.

I felt connected to myself.

Self help no longer mattered. I no longer needed it. I was finally approaching life from a place of sufficiency, not lack. I was enough.

If you've made it this far, you can see that self help did help me initially. But I eventually outgrew it.

Because when you approach self help from a place of lack, it usually ends in pain.

But if you approach it from a place of love, of learning, of growing without hating yourself along the way, then it becomes powerful.

This applies to fitness too.

If your goal is driven by self hate, even when you reach it, nothing actually changes. But when you pursue health from a place of love and self respect, the whole journey feels different.

If you found this helpful or want to learn more about what I do, drop me a follow:

Instagram: getfitbynick

Cheers,
Coach Nick