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One of the dictums that defines our culture is that we can be anything we want to be β to win the neoliberal game we just have to dream, to put our minds to it, to want it badly enough. This message leaks out to us from seemingly everywhere in our environment: at the cinema, in heart-warming and inspiring stories we read in the news and social media, in advertising, in self-help books, in the classroom, on television. We internalize it, incorporating it into our sense of self. But itβs not true. It is, in fact, the dark lie at the heart of the age of perfectionism. Itβs the cause, I believe, of an incalculable quotient of misery. Hereβs the truth that no million-selling self-help book, famous motivational speaker, happiness guru or blockbusting Hollywood screenwriter seems to want you to know. Youβre limited. Imperfect. And thereβs nothing you can do about it.
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