I used to be a devoted listener of Dr. Andrew Huberman’s podcast. I found real value in many of his episodes—circadian rhythms, sunlight in the morning, deliberate cold exposure, dopamine management, sleep hygiene, emotional health. I especially appreciated his episodes about weed and alcohol for opening up my eyes to the health risks of both.

I was drawn to the clarity and logic of it all. There was something soothing about being told, with scientific authority, do this, not that, and feel better. And I did feel better.

But last year, I stopped listening. Not because I suddenly disagreed with the science or because the routines stopped working. I stopped because I realized I was full. Saturated. I had reached the diminishing returns stage of optimization.

The Shift

I read a Guardian article in March 2024 on “Andrew Huberman: The podcasting professor becoming Goop for bros”. The piece was insightful and brutal. The author speaks to how quickly self-improvement can morph into a performance, a brand, a capitalist venture that sells optimization and hope for profit.

By that point, there had also been some noise about scandals—relationship manipulation, questionable conduct.

It was also about me. And the deeper realization that I was using optimization—biohacks, routines, supplements—as a way to soothe a deeper, more existential discomfort.

When Optimization Becomes a Cage

Dr. Huberman was immensely helpful in giving me a foundation and knowledge about health and wellness. But there comes a moment when adding more “science-based tools” to your life doesn’t make you healthier—it just makes you busier. I was already going to bed early, limiting my caffeine, exercising, meditating, getting sunlight, journaling, taking magnesium, doing cold exposure. At some point, you have to ask: What is all this for?

Because once the basics are dialed in, the return on investment drops off—and the energy required to keep layering new “tools” on top of your already-packed life just leads to anxiety.

I’ve found myself returning to this question again and again: Who is this really for?

The Optimization Trap

Sometimes I wonder if the chase for productivity and self-improvement is less about self-love and more about old patterns—co-dependence with a demanding parent, an internalized need to prove our worth, or a cultural script that says we are only as valuable as we are useful.

There’s a softness I’ve been craving—a kind of rest that isn’t about recovery so I can perform again, but rest as its own rebellion. Rest as resistance, as Tricia Hersey of The Nap Ministry so beautifully puts it. Not everything that nourishes you needs to be efficient.

Quality Over Quantity

These days, I’m trying to choose quality over quantity. That includes the quality of my attention, my sleep, my movement, and even my inputs—what I read, what I watch, what I listen to.

I don’t need more podcasts. I need more mornings where I sit in the sun with my dog. Where I drink a slow cup of coffee and feel human, not like a machine.

Dr. Huberman taught me a lot. And I’m grateful for what I learned. But at this stage, I’m more interested in depth than optimization. I’m more curious about meaning than metrics.

I’m trying to live—not just upgrade my operating system so that I can make rich people richer.