The pursuit of self-improvement is a seemingly noble ambition, celebrated across social media feeds, echoed in countless self-help books, and embedded in our workplaces. In my late twenties, I am encouraged to dream “big” and become “my best self”—and yet, somewhere beneath this motivational messaging, a darker reality takes shape. While this drive for personal achievement is cast as empowering, it often conceals an intricate Machiavellian twist: It seems that I have become the worker and the taskmaster, voluntarily subjecting myself to a cycle of relentless self-exploitation.
At the heart of this cycle lies the influence of my parasocial foe: neoliberalism. Under neoliberal “values,” I have become conditioned to treat my time and personal life as resources to be maximized and commodified. This here is a special kind of pickle I find myself in because this isn’t exploitation in the traditional sense, where external forces impose labor demands. Instead, it’s a self-imposed grind, wearing my favorite mask; the mask of liberation from the “corporate machine” and personal freedom.
This self-imposed cycle may have the appearance of liberation, but the boundaries of my life and identity are increasingly defined by metrics of productivity and the perceived necessity to constantly “level up.” Beneath the surface of these aspirations lies a quiet but pervasive fatigue—a very familiar and nagging sense that perhaps I am working for something that demands more with each passing day.
The subtlety of neoliberalism’s control mechanisms is something to be admired, really. Rather than limiting me with overt restrictions, neoliberal values present life as a series of what’s often framed as “limitless” choices and empower me to “take control” of my destiny. Passive exploitation, of course, is easier than traditional workplace exploitation, where one could easily point at and identify the source of control—the boundaries here are blurred, and the "boss" is an internalized, unrelenting push to maximize every aspect of life.
Unlike traditional exploitation, which is externally and blatantly imposed, this new model subtly and continuously convinces me to exploit myself, often without even realizing it. Self-worth is directly tied to achievement, with little room for simply being. Taking time to rest, reflect, or detach is not just discouraged; it’s perceived as an unproductive use of valuable time, and personally speaking, it’ll always be absolutely bizarre to hear that I have to “earn” such time. Milton Friedman and his buddies at the Mont Pelerin Society managed to carefully craft an invisible cage that keeps individuals under constant strain to perform, produce, progress, and self-optimize, all under this guise of claiming unattainable ownership.
Burnout is no longer an exception but is increasingly becoming a defining feature of contemporary culture, where exhaustion is worn like a badge of honor.
Contemporary Philosopher Byung-Chul Han, in what perhaps is his most widely read text, The Burnout Society, describes our modern condition as an “achievement society,” where the boundaries of success are endlessly pushed outward, and individuals are driven by the notion that they can and therefore should achieve more. In his view, this form of society replaces the old obnoxiously authoritative structures of “no, you can’t” with a devious and deceitful “yes, you can”—a positive reinforcement that pushes people to constantly take on more, reach higher, and exceed limits. Yet, according to Han, this empowerment comes at a significant cost: the striving not for intrinsic fulfillment but an ever-elusive sense of worth tied to productivity.
In the achievement society, self-exploitation is glorified. Constant striving becomes a mark of character, turning work into a lifestyle and success into a moral imperative. Social media platforms, of course, amplify this culture, shoving down society’s throats public figures and entrepreneurs who seem to balance high-achieving careers and desirable lifestyles, creating a relentless drive to measure up. Those who resist this cycle, choosing rest, self-acceptance, or not to indulge in the excesses of neoliberal values, risk being seen as unambitious or lazy.
Han’s critique points out an honestly troubling reality: the achievement society creates a feedback loop of self-exploitation. I’m told to push myself harder, only to find that each accomplishment reveals yet another level to “conquer”. It’s a restless cycle, where I eventually willingly become a captive to my ambitions, convinced and even absolutely sure that one more milestone will bring contentment. But contentment, in this system, is a moving target, one that always seems just out of reach.
The achievement society’s ultimate irony is that the constant “yes, you can” that fuels it gradually morphs into an unstated but pervasive “you must.” I once believed I was working solely for my personal goals, but the economy indicates I’m a laborer for an invisible force.
The most insidious consequence of self-exploitation seems to be the toll it takes on the mind and spirit. Burnout is no longer an exception but is increasingly becoming a defining feature of contemporary culture, where exhaustion is worn like a badge of honor. People are championed and praised for their ability to push through fatigue while neglecting the very humanity that makes their work meaningful in the first place. I find it increasingly alarming how common it is that only when someone is on the brink of an episode—for lack of a better word—do they get the occasional “Hey, maybe it’s time to slow down a bit.”
Feeling burnt out isn’t really just about feeling overworked; it comes with this eerie sense of self-alienation. When most actions are tied to productivity, I’ve often lost touch with myself. Passions morph into obligations, and the joy that once fueled my pursuits is replaced by anxiety over results, and personal connections are deprioritized in the process.
Rest is a sin; failure to achieve is a personal flaw. People internalize the belief that they are solely responsible for their success or failure, ignoring the systemic forces that set impossible standards in the first place. Trapped in a loop of striving and guilt-tripping.
I’ll end this by sharing a quote that I always try to remember whenever I’m overwhelmed. It’s from a book given to me by someone very special.
What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking, you cannot find.
Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha
Amazing article it touches my heart and express my intire in a simple way.