Dear Brain, I Love You, but What the Heck?

This morning I sat with my journal, coffee in hand, doing what I usually do to start the day: a quick gratitude list.

Beautiful weather. Yummy‑smelling candle. Fun new clothes. to wear.

Simple things that brought a smile to my face.

Then I opened the book I’ve been reading, a gift from a dear friend, called, Every Day Spirit by Mary Davis. The passage for the day was about becoming the best version of yourself.

The intention was clearly meant to be uplifting, but for me it landed with a thud. Instead of feeling inspired, I felt prickly.

Not because I’m against being the best version of myself. There was just something about what I read that didn’t sit quite right, and I wanted to figure out what that was.

So, I turned to a blank page in my journal and wrote:

“What’s my vision for the best version of me?”

That’s where things got interesting.

“The Best Is Yet to Come”

That’s what came up first as I started to free write.

Sometimes that phrase feels hopeful and full of exciting possibilities. Other times, it can feel like a quiet accusation, like I keep missing some invisible mark I’m supposed to hit.

As I stared at the question about my vision, I realized I’d turned “the best version of me” into “the best is yet to come,” which then turned into some distant, ideal version of me. Polished. Fully evolved. Perfectly regulated. Always making the “right” moves.

Who was I kidding, fully evolved and perfectly regulated?

“Hello, Perfectionism and Lack. Want some coffee?”

And then came a whole new round of questions:

How do I even define “best version of me” so I can spot it?

Is the best version of me a final destination?

Is it something I can ever really reach? If I do get there, what happens next? Do I just stop growing? Because I don’t want to ever do that.

“Brain, what the heck? Can we stop with the interrogation, please?”

It was starting to feel like I was trying to eat an elephant all in one go. “Becoming the best version of me” turned into this huge, overwhelming project. And I’m pretty sure that’s not what Mary intended when she wrote the passage.

But that’s what my brain turned it into, and suddenly the prickly feeling made sense.

Anything that feels huge and energy‑hungry is going to make our brains say, “Hold up. We only have so many resources. Let’s pause and stay right here where it’s comfy and familiar.”

Cue feelings of overwhelm, which are basically your brain’s way of hitting the brakes.

“Not today, Brain. Not today.”

I was too curious to let it go. So, I took a few deep breaths, talked my brain off the overwhelm ledge, and then remembered a question I often ask myself:

“How do you eat an elephant, Pam?”

“You Eat It One Bite at a Time”

Back to my journal, I wrote a question that felt more manageable:

“What’s the best version of me today?”

That alone made my nervous system settle and my shoulders drop. Clearly my brain could work with that because here’s what followed…

Today’s best version of me is…

Patient.

Kind to myself and others.

Open‑hearted and open‑minded.

Pausing to spot the good as often as possible.

Compassionate.

Curious. A source of love, light, value, and service. Flawed, and okay with that. Because if I’m striving not to have any flaws at all, I’m robbing myself of the opportunity to be human. Not to mention the chance to keep learning and growing.

There. Take that, you overwhelming elephant.

This wasn’t a contract for the rest of my life. It was a gentle, flexible definition for today. The best version of me became something I could grow into day by day, not a finish line I had to reach and then guard with my life.

A Little Experiment for Your Brain (And Your Heart)

If phrases like “higher self” or “best version” land heavy for you too, here’s a small experiment to play with:

• Grab a notebook or open a note.

• At the top, write: “The best version of me today…”

• Let yourself list qualities, not achievements. Think about how you want to treat yourself and others, not what you need to accomplish.

• Circle one quality that feels especially good to you today. Just one.

• For the rest of the day, look for tiny moments where you practice that one quality.
  

From a brain perspective, you’re giving your system real‑time, lived examples of today’s best version, instead of leaving it to chase some fuzzy, impossible version of “perfect.”

Going Forward Without the Elephant

Here’s where I’ve landed, at least for now:

The best version of me isn’t a final, airbrushed destination.

It’s the me who’s willing to grow, stay kind, stay curious, and live inside the reality of today. And I’ve got full permission to revise that definition tomorrow based on what life brings.

So now, when I bump into ideas about becoming a “higher” version of myself, I don’t hand my brain a whole elephant and say, “Here, figure this out.” I just ask a smaller question:

What’s one way I can be the best version of me today?

If that question ever starts to feel like an elephant again, that’s my cue to step back, take a breath, and go back to one bite at a time.