Breaking Up with Wellness (Kind Of)

It’s complicated

What if I told you there's a way to improve your immune system, gut health, metabolism, and sleep while getting glowy skin, shiny hair, and a sharper mind? Oh, and by the way, you will sleep better, age slower, and get stronger. All you have to do? Pay $110 a month and ingest a substance with a mysterious proprietary ingredient that looks and tastes exactly like powdered milk—worried about the manufacturing? No need; it is made in an FDA-certified facility, although we won't tell you which one or mention that, like all supplements, it's not FDA-approved. Interested?

It is January, the time of reflection and resolution, so I am tackling a topic I feel deeply conflicted about: wellness. I have been on a wellness "journey" most of my life. In my late teens and early twenties, I was an avid master cleanser and cabbage soup dieter. In my mid-twenties, I drank celery juice every morning for six months to cure my cystic acne (spoiler: good old Accutane was the real hero). I've popped more supplements than I care to admit, chasing energy, youth, and an immune system that could withstand two germy kids at home.

I am the perfect target for any wellness brand: I am health aware, with high cancer risk, navigating early menopause, often exhausted, surrounded by germs, with weight struggles, and disposable income. I like to think I'm smart, but let's be honest—I'm a sucker for good branding. And that's what most of the wellness industry is these days: clever marketing disguised as healthcare.

The Pill Box I designed for myself after I got my ovaries out and went into menopause

The peak of my obsession with wellness was at age 35, after I had my ovaries out. I was determined to biohack my way to health and happiness. I took a million supplements, meditated, and spent an inordinate amount of time in the cold plunge and sauna. I devoured books and podcasts, convinced I'd crack the code to perfect health. But instead of answers, I found contradictions and confusion.

My relationship with wellness has shifted drastically in the last two years. I realized that much of the wellness industry was predatory, and I no longer felt like being prey. Slick ads, celebrity endorsements, and pseudoscience target our fears and desires. The supplement industry, in particular, is a wild west: no FDA approval, little transparency, and clinical trials (if any) that are often flimsy at best.

For context:

A good clinical trial is characterized by a well-designed protocol with clear objectives, appropriate patient selection through inclusion and exclusion criteria, a robust control group, randomization to minimize bias, adequate sample size to detect meaningful results (this means A LOT of people), proper data collection methods, and a focus on participant safety and ethical considerations, all while adhering to Good Clinical Practice (GCP) guidelines

Most supplements don't meet these standards. Yet they thrive on discrediting modern medicine—the very system that prioritizes rigorous standards, regulation, transparency, and good clinical trials. Modern medicine has major issues, namely in equity and access, but those are not related to its efficacy.

That's not to say I've abandoned wellness entirely. My health is still a top priority, and there are safe and effective supplements out there. But they're rare and require a lot of effort to identify. And let's not underestimate the placebo effect—it's real, and if something makes you feel better, that's valid.

But what about the people who are really sick? Major ethical issues arise when the wellness industry preys on the vulnerable. It's all fine and good to try 6 months of celery juice to cure cystic acne (although I would not recommend it), but what about the people who are convinced it will cure cancer, eschewing modern medicine? Wellness is for the well, for people who are healthy and looking to maintain or improve their well-being. But people who are sick get caught in its predatory web.

So, can you truly bio-hack your way to wellness? Not yet. Maybe someday, as science evolves. But for now, the fountain of youth is still a mirage and much of what's being sold is little more than snake oil with a hefty price tag and a host of ethical issues.

I'm approaching wellness with more skepticism and less obsession—stripping it back to the basics and focusing on what truly works. Will I still get tempted by clever marketing and try a new supplement in the future? Definitely, but hopefully, with a bit more discernment and a lot less frequency.

What works for me:

• Prioritizing sleep

• Eating whole foods (70% fish and vegetables, 30% treats)

• Exercising (I like CrossFit, mostly lifting heavy weights with a bit of cardio and occasional pilates)

• I get my blood taken yearly and take medications or supplements that are specific to my medical needs and recommended by my doctor (who will consult with a naturopath on supplements)

• Meditation (although not religiously - I use it when I need it)

• Focusing on connection, creativity, and fun

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