Am I the only one who finds the relentless stream of self-improvement programs this time of year depressing?

Not only because their purveyors are capitalizing on someone’s idea of self-worth

Not only because they remind me of my own lack of self-actualization and self-love

— Or maybe that’s what drives my major bone of contention:

That it is never as simple as ten steps, six sessions, and three weeks. 

There is no miracle mini-session that can cure the complex web of what has gotten us to our present state of . . .

And that’s what I think depresses me.

The false hope.

How many times can a title draw you in, only to be left wanting more after a superficial few paragraphs.

When nothing exterior can help, when it’s all an inside job.