Reclaiming Self-Care Moving Beyond Overconsumption in Wellness
- R A E
- Nov 27
- 6 min read
There was a time when wellness lived quietly in kitchens, gardens, and backyards. A simmering pot of vegetable soup, a jar of homemade preserves, or your grandmother’s careful mix of herbs and honey held the promise of care, nourishment, and a little bit of magic. Wellness wasn’t performative. It didn’t need a carefully curated Instagram feed or the newest superfood powder shipped overnight. It just existed, quietly, intimately, and it worked.
Fast forward a decade, and wellness has transformed into an industry, complete with aspirational rituals, limited-edition products, and a constant parade of what you “must” have to look, feel, and be better. The pressure to consume is staggering. Supplements with unpronounceable ingredients, wellness teas with lofty claims, candles, crystals, CBD oils, adaptogens — the list grows every week, each item more expensive than the last, each promising results that feel both urgent and elusive.
This article is my attempt to untangle what happened. How did something once simple become so complicated? And how can we, as wellness enthusiasts, navigate the noise without losing sight of what real self-care is?
Wellness Became a Checklist
When did the simple acts of wellness — drinking water, taking a walk, cooking a healthy meal — become a performance? Somewhere along the way, the focus shifted from feeling good to looking like you are doing everything right. The Instagram feeds are filled with morning routines that look like rituals in a monastery, each movement photographed, each latte perfectly staged with a spiraling sprinkle of matcha powder. Even your supplements have to be color-coordinated to match your kitchen aesthetic.
I’ve been there. The late-night scrolling, comparing the number of vitamins someone else takes to my own sparse collection. The constant feeling that if I wasn’t doing everything “right,” I was failing at wellness entirely. And the irony is, the more I chased that perfection, the further away I felt from the very care I was trying to achieve.
The Guardian called this fixation on wellness “utterly consuming,” and they aren’t wrong. It’s easy to forget that wellness was never meant to feel like a second job. The shift toward overconsumption didn’t happen overnight, but somewhere between clever marketing, influencer culture, and the promise of instant results, the quiet joy of homemade care got lost in translation.
The Price Tag of Perceived Health
Expensive wellness products give the illusion of effectiveness, as if price alone guarantees results. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the latest elixir or high-tech wellness gadget is better than the low-cost or homemade options we once trusted. Yet despite the hefty price tags, many of these items deliver little beyond a sense of participation. There’s a thrill in buying wellness, in checking another item off your list, but actual results? That’s another question entirely.
I’ve tried the overpriced powders, the artisanal supplements, the detox teas that promise to “cleanse your soul.” Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t, and most often the results are fleeting. What lingers is the stress of keeping up and the quiet sense that if you aren’t constantly consuming, you aren’t doing enough.
This is the crux of overconsumption in wellness: it convinces us that doing more equals being better. In reality, ease and simplicity often produce far more tangible results. Drinking water because your body asks for it, not because a supplement recommends it. Eating nutrient-rich meals crafted with care, not just because a box promised optimal health. Movement because it feels good, not because it looks impressive on a feed.
Returning to the Roots: Homemade, Simple, Intentional
There is a radical act in slowing down, in returning to wellness practices that don’t come with a price tag. Making a smoothie with fresh fruit from the market rather than a pre-packaged, Instagram-worthy option. Brewing your own tea with herbs from your garden. Walking around your neighborhood, not to hit 10,000 steps but to clear your mind.
I’ve started doing this consciously, reclaiming wellness as an experience rather than a performance. There’s something liberating about it. I drink my tea slowly, sit in sunlight, and take deep breaths without thinking about tracking calories or steps. I cook meals that nourish, not because they are trending, but because they remind me that care can be quiet, enjoyable, and entirely personal.
Overconsumption isn’t just financial. It’s mental. It’s the subtle pressure to constantly measure, optimize, and perform. Stepping away from it is not laziness; it’s strategy. It’s acknowledging that real wellness comes from listening to your body, your mind, and your intuition; not from filling a cart with products you may never need.
Marketing Wellness: The Illusion of Necessity
Marketing in the wellness world has done a remarkable job convincing us that we can buy health, mindfulness, and vitality. And it works. Humans are wired for hope, for solutions, for the allure of something new. The packaging promises transformation in a single morning routine, a single drink, a single ritual.
But in chasing this, we lose sight of the real gains. Wellness is about consistency, presence, and self-awareness. It’s in the little daily acts that build up quietly over time. A warm bath, stretching before bed, and a mindful bite of healthy food these are just as valid, if not more so, than the latest $80 wellness shot.
I’ve learned to ask myself: am I buying this because it genuinely enhances my health, or because I want to feel like I’m doing enough? Often, the answer guides me back to simplicity. And when I let go of the hype, I notice an improvement in how I feel, not just what I look like.
Finding Balance in a Consumption-Heavy Culture
The key to thriving in this overconsumed wellness culture is discernment. It’s about learning to choose what truly matters. Not every trend, supplement, or gadget is necessary. Some genuinely add value, while others are distractions wrapped in luxury.
I’ve started creating a personal wellness hierarchy: the essentials are things that nourish, move, and restore. Everything else is optional. By doing this, the noise diminishes. My wallet breathes. My body breathes. My mind breathes. And oddly enough, the fewer products I use, the more intentional I become.
Personal POV: My Journey Back to Intentional Wellness
I grew up watching wellness as a simple part of life, not a full-blown performance. Over the years, I slipped into overconsumption, thinking more was better. I bought powders, gadgets, and supplements that promised results and curated my routines as if they were to be judged by some unseen jury. And for a while, it worked in the sense that I was busy, disciplined, and checking boxes. But I wasn’t happier. I wasn’t healthier. I was just overwhelmed.
The moment I started scaling back, the clarity returned. Homemade remedies, simple rituals, mindful movement — these became the backbone of my wellness practice again. The expensive products didn’t vanish entirely, but they became tools, not the foundation. And that shift, that small pivot toward intentionality, made all the difference.
The Takeaway: Less Can Be More
Wellness doesn’t have to be flashy, expensive, or performative. The constant consumption culture has made it easy to forget that the simplest acts like a warm cup of tea, a walk in the sun, a homemade meal can be the most effective. The challenge now is reclaiming wellness for ourselves, not for the feed, not for the packaging, and certainly not for the price tag.
It’s time to take a step back, breathe, and remember that health and happiness are cumulative, subtle, and deeply personal. The most radical act of self-care may just be doing less, enjoying more, and letting the ritual itself be enough.
What I Like
I appreciate that wellness has become more visible and accessible. The conversations around mental health, nutrition, and self-care are more mainstream, and people are curious. It’s exciting to see innovation and creativity in the wellness space, and some high-quality products can genuinely help. I also love the way this culture encourages reflection, self-awareness, and prioritizing our health.
What Could Be Better
The problem lies in excess and the performative nature of many wellness trends. Overconsumption can be overwhelming and financially draining, often creating guilt rather than joy. There’s also a lack of emphasis on simplicity, homemade practices, and mindfulness. I wish more wellness conversations focused on small, sustainable, and personally meaningful acts rather than aspirational consumption.
Wellness, at its core, is about ease, presence, and intention. It isn’t the price tag of the supplement, the trendiness of the gadget, or the number of rituals checked off. It’s how we inhabit our bodies and minds, how we nourish ourselves and allow space for joy. By stepping back, simplifying, and honoring the original purpose of self-care, wellness can be reclaimed as something human, achievable, and profoundly effective.
Love,
Rae
Image Credits - Alina Matveycheva
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