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I’ve been thinking a lot about “wellness” lately.
What a slippery little term, wellness. It’s different from “health” — if health is a state of being, as it’s commonly defined, then wellness is a state of doing. It’s an active process in pursuit of health. Not just health. Optimal health.
Wellness is also a trillion-with-a-T-dollar industry capturing everything from mindfulness apps to supplements to breathwork studios. It’s a canny bit of capitalism; who wouldn’t want to sink money into gummies and electrolyte powders and products emblazoned with words such as “grounding” and “healing” because who doesn’t want to feel grounded and healed? Who wouldn’t want to find relief with an app or a membership?
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Some of this stuff can be beneficial; some of it, well, the jury is out, especially when it comes to supplements. Some vitamins have proven value, such as taking vitamin D in the wintertime or folic acid if trying to get pregnant. I personally take a B12 supplement as well.
But supplements are also not as tightly regulated as medications, which means their safety — or efficacy, for that matter — is not proven. And some can cause serious harm; according to University of Michigan research quoted in the New York Times, an estimated 15 million American adults take a supplement that could potentially cause liver toxicity, such as turmeric or red yeast rice.
Any time I scroll through Instagram, I’m marketed all manner of extremely expensive potions that will fix my gut health, my sleep, my endometriosis. The packaging is beautiful, as is the woman (usually) selling it. What’s being sold is a promise: I will feel better and if I feel better I will be better.
But I sincerely believe “wellness” is more easily — and cheaply —achieved.
It’s taking a walk in nature and noticing the trees. It’s drinking a glass of water when you feel sluggish at 4 p.m. It’s saying no and guarding your time. It’s reading a book instead of scrolling. It’s seeing friends and family. It’s about moving your body in ways you enjoy. It’s having a dumb little hobby. It’s rest.
It’s stretching in the morning, the way my dog instinctively does, first going into downward dog and then rolling out her spine and lifting one leg, then the other. She doesn’t need a fancy mat or a scheduled class, she just… does it. An inspirational self-care queen!
Those “my 5 to 9 after my 9 to 5” reels, my obsession with which I’ve written about in the past, almost never show friendship or hobbies. It’s always a routine of wellness optimization, of workouts and laundry and cooking and complicated skincare and maybe some TV or book time — but that time is always “earned.” It happens at the end of the night, when all the shoulds, musts and have-tos are accomplished.
Wellness, as it’s framed and sold online, is a relentlessly individual quest requiring much spending and striving. But I wonder if wellness isn’t actually more of a group project. As we learned a few years ago: loneliness is as bad for you as smoking.
We don’t need fancy powders or gummies to be “well.” What we need is community and connection.
Because I’ll tell you what: a few days ago I was having a terrible day. I felt overwhelmed and everything felt heavy and hard. And then my bestie picked me up, we met another pal for pancakes and you know what? I felt better. I felt well.
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