Leaving the Healing and Wellness Rat Race: Thoughts on how the self-help and wellness industries have capitalized on our insecurities
You’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, and shared the educational Instagram reels. And still… there’s that gnawing feeling: “Something is wrong here.”
Most of my clients love a good book or podcast recommendation—and I do, too. There’s nothing wrong with seeking insight or perspective. But at some point, we have to ask: Is this helping, or is it keeping me in a cycle of self-improvement that never ends, and creating an additional sense of fatigue and unworthiness? Or worse, a sense of superiority and disconnection from my friends, family, and other imperfect loved ones?
The healing and wellness industries were born from a real need—people are suffering, disconnected, overwhelmed. Many historians, social scientists, and philosophers would note that we have always suffered in this way— and that the healing professions are nothing new. But over time, the message has shifted. The original intention may be rooted in care, but the message received often sounds more like:
“You’re behind.”
“You’re not enough.”
“You aren’t healed, but this product/book/program will fix you.”
365 ways to heal your nervous system, 10,000 daily steps, 100 grams of protein, a gallon of water, and $100 worth of supplements— That’s not healing. That’s marketing.
Healing has become another rat race. Another place we feel the pressure to do more, be better, and achieve some ideal version of ourselves. And just like every other system rooted in capitalism and oppression, it’s exhausting.
My message to my clients is this: You are not broken. You do not need fixing. You are human— and this experience you’re having is a human one.
The grief, the anxiety, the despair—these are not signs of failure. They are natural reactions to a difficult and often unjust world. Human suffering is part of the experience of being alive. And when we try to bypass that suffering with toxic positivity, spiritual bypassing, or relentless self-improvement programs, we only add a new layer of shame: “I shouldn’t feel this way.”
Let’s be honest about how “doing the work” often gets distorted:
It perpetuates the belief that we’re not good enough as we are.
It turns healing into a lifelong project with no clear endpoint, keeping us from enjoying the present moment.
It becomes a way to shame or dismiss others for their very human struggles.
It redirects attention away from structural and societal issues that need real change.
It creates consumers out of seekers—offering endless solutions to a problem that was never ours to fix in the first place.
Of course, there is value in introspection. Focusing on what we can control matters. Healing is possible and deeply meaningful.
But spiritual bypassing—and parrotting pop psychology therapy-talk—can become a form of emotional neglect and isolation. When you're hungry, you eat. When you're hurt, you cry. That’s not weakness. That’s human.
Therapy, from my perspective, is not about fixing ourselves.
It’s about helping us reconnect with our innate humanity.
It’s where we learn to meet our needs with care.
It’s where we stop trying to be a better version of ourselves and start practicing compassion for the version that’s here right now (which, ironically, changes us).
Let’s stop shouting about doing “The Work”.
Healing is the quiet work of being with what is.
Grief, joy, anger, and awe.
