I Don’t Want Your Self-Help Hacks
People with mental illness can’t will their way back to happiness
Their profile photos are gleaming. They’re on an island, or sprawled on a fast car, or clutching a piece of fruit. Every day, their articles crop up on my feed, each one promising betterment. With their clickbait titles and words that barely nick the surface, they want me to believe that they can make me happier, smarter, cuter, thinner, lovable, productive, and possibly a millionaire.
All I need to do is sign up for their newsletter, download their $29.99 eBook, and take their $499 online course.
All I need to do is believe… and click to buy.
They’ll start their pitch with a personal anecdote that makes readers believe they’re “just like us” — or at least they were until they tried whatever it is they’re now peddling. The relatability is merely a vehicle for the sale. They’ll then introduce the challenge or tension, deliver their proposed action, and boom! Welcome to the resolution. All lessons have been learned.
Promise peddlers survive the apocalypse by teaching us how to survive the apocalypse, but what are their credentials beyond the 100 million views they’ve garnered on articles that guarantee The Promised Land? Are they researchers, psychologists, sociologists, or…
