Have you watched The Substance yet? If you haven’t, it’s one of those rare films that gets under your skin and sticks with you long after the credits roll, especially if you’re prone to psychoanalysis—or introspection, for that matter. This movie is not just a cinematic experience; it’s a psychological gold mine.
On the surface, it critiques the entertainment industry, ageism, and our impossible obsession with beauty and youth. It’s also a story of personal and professional loss, like the end of a job or even an entire identity. But peel back these layers, and you’ll find something much deeper—a mirror held up for all of us to examine the way we relate to our own shadows and pursue the “better” versions of ourselves.
I’d like to talk about a more personal and unexpected takeaway—the war we often wage within ourselves in the relentless pursuit of our ideal selves.
Here’s the truth no one tells you about self-improvement: it often feels like chasing a carrot on a stick. And guess what? That carrot is never within reach.
At its core, The Substance brilliantly portrays this dichotomy—the ego desperately clinging to an unattainable “ideal” version of the self. We’re told this image should motivate us, push us forward, and help us grow. And sure, it can for a time. But here’s the catch—as we chase that ideal, we naturally become our own harshest critics. We suppress our perceived flaws, reject parts of ourselves that don’t align with the vision, and try to “fix” everything that doesn’t measure up.
The problem? The harder we push toward this ideal, the farther it slips from view, leaving us in a toxic cycle of radical self-criticism and eventual self-sabotage. It’s a war of attrition, and the casualty is often your authentic self. Sound familiar?
If you’ve read any Taoist wisdom, you’ve probably heard the phrase, “The one who kills the dragon becomes the dragon.” That’s exactly what happens when we wage a war against aspects of ourselves we don’t like. Instead of silencing those aspects, we feed them.
Think about it—what happens when you obsessively try to “fix” yourself? When you berate yourself for not being good enough? That inner critic grows louder. The insecurities you’re running from dig in their heels. The more you fight them, the stronger they become.
One of the most haunting scenes in The Substance captures this perfectly. Elizabeth, the older version of the character, physically and emotionally battles against Sue, her younger self. The fight escalates until Elizabeth admits something chilling yet relatable, “I don’t exist without you. I need you because I hate myself.”
It’s a gut-punch moment because it lays bare the struggle many of us endure. We swing between moments of determined self-improvement and utter hopelessness, only to end up right back where we started. Sound familiar? That’s because this inner battle isn’t just the plot of a movie—it’s the merry-go-round so many of us live on every day.
You’ve heard the promises—develop yourself, improve yourself, keep climbing higher. But if all you’re doing is chasing a fixed idea of who you think you should be, then you’re setting yourself up for failure. Why? Because that ideal doesn’t evolve. It’s static, while you (and life) are inherently dynamic.
Without moving beyond this rigid vision of “perfection,” self-improvement becomes an endless cycle of repetition. No matter how hard you try, you’re always comparing yourself to an impossible standard. And where does that finally lead? Burnout, despair, and, ultimately, self-destruction.
If chasing perfection is a dead-end (and it is), then what’s the way forward? Reinvention. But not the kind of reinvention that simply swaps one fixed identity for another. I’m talking about unpacking the unknown parts of yourself—the parts that don’t fit into your previous moulds or ideals.
Reinvention requires courage. It asks you to confront fears you might not even have words for yet.
• Fear of the unknown.
• Fear of facing the parts of yourself you’ve buried.
• Fear of becoming someone unrecognizable, untethered from your past.
It’s scary. But on the other side of that fear is a version of yourself you haven’t met yet—one that’s not bound by old rules or outdated images.
Imagine this process like moving from one floor to the next in a tall building. The view changes, expands. You see horizons you never knew existed. Reinvention, when done with true openness, unlocks potential you couldn’t have dreamed of from the floor below.
And here’s the good news—the best time to do this is during moments of transition. If you’re in-between jobs, relationships, or major life decisions, that’s the perfect opportunity to step back and say, “Who am I becoming?”
The Substance leaves us with a question, one that’s both uncomfortable and freeing—are you fighting yourself? Are you so consumed by the chase for “better” that you’ve forgotten the beauty of becoming?
I want you to reflect on this. Are there parts of you that you’ve been at war with? Do you catch yourself swinging between self-improvement highs and despairing lows? If so, maybe it’s time to step off that merry-go-round and try something different.
Reinvention isn’t about fixing yourself; it’s about meeting yourself—shadow, flaws, and all. It’s about growth that celebrates the messy, beautiful process of becoming something new.
I’d love to hear your thoughts about the movie, the themes we’ve explored, or your own experiences with reinvention.
Here’s to letting go of the war and stepping into your next chapter.
