I’ve spent a fair amount of time critiquing wellness culture—the toxic positivity, the spiritual bypassing, the tendency to turn self-care into another form of self-improvement that leaves us feeling inadequate. And those critiques are necessary. But here’s what I don’t want to lose in the process: wellness culture, at its best, has introduced genuinely transformative practices and perspectives that many of us might never have encountered otherwise.

Not all of it is saltwater. Some of it—when stripped of the performance, the consumption, the promise of quick fixes—is actually nourishing. Actually helpful. Actually still.

So let’s talk about what wellness culture gets right. And how to discern the difference.

The Democratisation of Ancient Wisdom

One of wellness culture’s greatest contributions has been making practices that were once restricted by geography, tradition, or access available to millions of people who might never have encountered them otherwise.

Yoga, for instance. What was once a deeply spiritual practice primarily accessible to those who could travel to India or find a teacher in their community is now available in studios, online platforms, and community centres worldwide. Yes, Western yoga has been commodified and sometimes stripped of its spiritual roots. But it’s also introduced countless people to the profound connection between breath, movement, and mental state.

Meditation, similarly, has moved from monasteries and ashrams into mainstream consciousness. Mindfulness-based practices now have robust scientific backing and are used in schools, hospitals, and therapy offices. Research shows that regular meditation can reduce anxiety, improve focus, enhance emotional regulation, and even change brain structure over time.

This is democratisation in action. Practices that might have remained the domain of spiritual seekers with the resources to pursue them are now accessible to single parents, shift workers, students, and anyone with a smartphone.

The Body-Mind Connection Goes Mainstream

Western medicine has historically treated the mind and body as separate entities. You go to a doctor for physical ailments, a therapist for mental ones, and never the twain shall meet. Wellness culture has helped challenge this artificial divide.

The idea that stress affects your physical health, that trauma lives in the body, that movement impacts mood, that gut health influences mental wellbeing—these aren’t fringe concepts anymore. They’re increasingly supported by research and integrated into clinical practice.

Somatic therapy, once considered alternative, is now recognised as an evidence-based approach to trauma treatment. The role of nutrition in mental health is being studied seriously. The connection between chronic pain and emotional wellbeing is finally getting the attention it deserves.

Wellness culture, for all its faults, has helped normalise the idea that we are integrated beings—that you can’t separate your anxiety from your gut health, your depression from your movement patterns, your wellbeing from your breath.

Self-Care as Radical Act

Before wellness culture commodified self-care into face masks and bath bombs, the concept had revolutionary roots. It emerged from civil rights activism, particularly the work of Black feminists like Audre Lorde, who recognised that caring for yourself in a world that devalues you is an act of political resistance.

At its core, this remains true and valuable. The idea that you deserve care, that your needs matter, that tending to your wellbeing isn’t selfish—this is genuinely transformative for people raised to put everyone else first.

Yes, self-care has been bastardised into consumerism. But the underlying principle—that you’re worthy of care, that meeting your own needs is essential not indulgent, that you can’t pour from an empty cup—these ideas have given millions of people permission to prioritise their wellbeing for the first time.

Language for Inner Experience

Wellness culture has introduced language and frameworks that help people understand and articulate their inner experience in ways that weren’t previously available to them.

Terms like “boundaries,” “nervous system regulation,” “attachment styles,” “emotional labour,” and “capacity” have entered common parlance. These concepts give people vocabulary for experiences they’ve always had but couldn’t name.

When you can name something, you can work with it. When you understand that your anxiety might be dysregulation in your nervous system rather than personal weakness, it changes how you approach it. When you recognise that your people-pleasing patterns might stem from an anxious attachment style, you can address the root rather than just the symptoms.

This proliferation of psychological and spiritual language isn’t all good—sometimes it leads to armchair diagnosis and oversimplification. But it’s also empowered people to understand themselves better and advocate for their needs more effectively.

The Normalisation of Mental Health Conversations

Twenty years ago, admitting you were in therapy carried stigma. Talking about your anxiety or depression openly was risky. Mental health was something you dealt with privately, shamefully, if you dealt with it at all.

Wellness culture, with all its flaws, has helped shift this. Mental health is now discussed openly on social media, in workplaces, in schools. Therapy is increasingly seen as a sign of self-awareness rather than weakness. More people seek help earlier rather than suffering in silence until they’re in crisis.

Yes, sometimes this openness tips into performance—trauma dumping on TikTok, using therapy-speak to deflect accountability, diagnosing yourself via Instagram infographics. But the overall shift towards normalising mental health conversations has been profoundly positive.

It’s saved lives. Full stop.

Practices That Actually Work (When Used Properly)

Let’s be specific about what genuinely helps:

Breathwork: Controlled breathing techniques can activate the parasympathetic nervous system, reducing stress and anxiety. Box breathing, 4-7-8 breathing, and diaphragmatic breathing are simple, free, and backed by research. They work—not as a cure for mental illness, but as a tool for regulation.

Mindfulness: Present-moment awareness, practiced regularly, can reduce rumination, improve emotional regulation, and increase distress tolerance. Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) and Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) have extensive evidence bases.

Movement: Exercise improves mood, reduces anxiety, enhances sleep, and supports overall mental health. It doesn’t have to be intense—walking, dancing, gentle yoga all count. The key is finding movement you actually enjoy rather than punishing yourself into fitness.

Nature connection: Time in nature—even just looking at trees—reduces cortisol, improves mood, and enhances wellbeing. Shinrin-yoku (forest bathing) has been studied extensively. This isn’t woo—it’s biology.

Gratitude practices: Regularly acknowledging what you’re grateful for (when done authentically, not as toxic positivity) can shift perspective and improve wellbeing. The key is genuine reflection, not forcing thankfulness for suffering.

Community and connection: Wellness culture has emphasised the importance of genuine human connection—not just for happiness but for survival. Loneliness is as harmful to health as smoking. Connection is medicine.

The Permission to Slow Down

In a culture that glorifies busyness and productivity, wellness culture has given people permission—even encouragement—to slow down. To rest. To do less. To prioritise being over doing.

Yes, this has been commodified into expensive retreats and performative rest. But the core message remains valuable: you don’t have to be productive every moment to be worthy. Rest isn’t earned—it’s essential.

The proliferation of content around burnout, the importance of sleep, the value of doing nothing—these messages counter the dominant cultural narrative that your worth equals your output. That’s genuinely helpful, even revolutionary.

Holistic Approaches to Wellbeing

Wellness culture’s emphasis on treating the whole person—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual—offers a valuable counterbalance to reductionist medical models that treat symptoms without considering context.

The recognition that your wellbeing is influenced by sleep, nutrition, movement, relationships, purpose, nature, creativity, rest, play—all of it—is more accurate than models that locate problems solely in brain chemistry or individual pathology.

This doesn’t mean rejecting medical treatment. It means understanding that medication might work better alongside therapy, that therapy might work better alongside adequate sleep, that healing happens in the context of your whole life, not just your symptoms.

How to Keep the Good, Discard the Saltwater

So how do you engage with wellness culture in a way that nourishes rather than depletes? Here are some guidelines:

• Question promises of quick fixes. If something claims to cure your depression in 21 days or heal your trauma with one technique, it’s saltwater. Real transformation takes time.
• Watch for victim-blaming. If the message suggests your struggles are entirely your fault (your energy, your vibration, your manifestation), run. That’s not empowerment—it’s spiritual gaslighting.
• Notice how you feel. Does this practice make you feel more connected to yourself or more inadequate? More present or more performative? More human or more like a self-improvement project?
• Look for nuance. Good wellness content acknowledges complexity, holds space for different experiences, doesn’t claim to have all the answers. Beware of absolutism.
• Check the evidence. Some wellness practices have robust research behind them. Others are entirely anecdotal. Know the difference.
• Consider accessibility. Is this practice available to people without wealth, time, or able bodies? Or is it disguised privilege?
• Trust your discernment. Just because something works for someone else doesn’t mean it will work for you. You’re allowed to take what helps and leave the rest.

“Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t, and always trust your own inner knowing above any external authority.”

The Still Within the Noise

Wellness culture is noisy. It’s commercialised. It’s often more concerned with appearing well than with actual wellbeing. But within all that noise, there are genuine practices, valuable insights, and transformative tools.

The key is discernment. The ability to separate what actually nourishes from what just looks like it should. The wisdom to recognise when you’re drinking saltwater and when you’ve found something that genuinely supports your transformation.

Yoga, when practiced for connection rather than perfection. Meditation, when used for presence rather than escape. Therapy-speak, when it illuminates rather than deflects. Self-care, when it’s genuinely caring rather than performative. Community, when it’s authentic rather than curated.

These are the still. The parts worth keeping. The practices that, when approached with honesty and humility, can genuinely support your journey from chaos to clarity, from disconnection to wholeness, from the saltwater to something purer.

Wellness culture isn’t all bad. It’s just that, like everything, it requires discernment. The ability to drink from the still and refuse the saltwater, even when they’re sitting right next to each other on the same Instagram feed.