Wellness: The Beautiful Scam
How a 17th-Century Word Became a $6.3 Trillion Lie.
As early as the 17th century, we find the word wellness in English, a simple concept that stood opposite to illness. The term was so novel that in 1653, Dorothy Osborne, an educated English gentlewoman writing to her future husband, William Temple, complained: "I cannot excuse you that profess to be my friend and yet are content to let me live in such ignorance, write to me every week, and yet never send me any of the new phrases of the town. Pray what is meant by wellness and unwellness?" Here was a woman engaged in sophisticated political and literary correspondence during the Commonwealth period following England's civil wars, yet this word was foreign to her.
The word fell into disuse in the 18th and 19th century. Health and well-being were preferred. This speaks to something unique in our human history, how ideas ebb and flow, resurface with more power, but then in the same way can recede and be forgotten. Perhaps this serves as a cautionary tale not to take anything too seriously, including wellness itself.
Halbert L. Dunn, a U.S. public health physician, resurfaced the concept of wellness in his book High-Level Wellness in 1961. The book promoted the then-novel idea that there was more to health than the absence of disease. The connotation shifted from absence of illness to a proactive pursuit of optimal health. In his book, Dunn defined wellness as "an integrated method of functioning oriented toward maximizing an individual's potential within their environment." He described it as a dynamic process involving three key elements. First, progress toward higher functioning. Second, an expanding future that challenges us to live more fully. Third, integration of body, mind, and spirit.
Dunn's vision of wellness was rooted in a holistic and preventive philosophy with the goal of helping individuals reach their full potential and live with greater purpose. It was about cultivating balance and resilience as an inner orientation to life, not simply avoiding disease. Today's mainstream idea of wellness has expanded far beyond that original framework and has become a commercialized industry of products, anti-aging marketing and optimization culture. It still carries the language of balance and wholeness, but it is frequently marketed as a philosophy to be consumed rather than a process of self-discovery and inquiry.
Some might even say wellness is a lifestyle. A 6.3 trillion dollar global lifestyle. Projected to reach 9 trillion by 2028.
One of the premises of modern wellness is that we are incomplete and unhappy.
While marketed as a path to balance, fulfillment and growth, this industry depends on the dissatisfaction we feel towards ourselves. The paradox is simple. In order to be less miserable, we are asked to become more miserable.
I remember my first years exploring yoga and meditation, before entering the wellness fortune wheel. Back then, there was no Headspace, no Insight Timer. But there was the ocean. And so I would go early in the mornings and at sunset to say hello and goodbye to a new day. I remember the early days of my spiritual path when I read Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda, and felt something brewing inside of me. I felt a longing to reconnect to an essence that lives in a world of no words. A few times, I touched upon something that exceeded my understanding. It didn't matter what type of juice I drank or the brand of my yoga mat. I felt embraced by discovering a practice that made me befriend myself and a community around it that made me feel nurtured. "Be as simple as you can be; you will be astonished to see how uncomplicated and happy your life can become," Yogananda said.
There was a space within the emergence of mainstream wellness to acknowledge our ancestral and communal practices of connection before they were listed at spas' menus. Now, the same wellness concept that was supposed to bring us closer to our essence is what keeps us apart.
I am not surprised that we are bombarded with a plague of products, devices, brands, and apps dedicated to keeping us hooked. We are a civilization facing the highest levels of loneliness and collective isolation. I understand our dependency. I have gone in and out of it. I spoke about it in my essay The Information Diet. I understand the craving for meaning and purpose.
I see the world of industrialized wellness as a world of modern confusion. I can point to certain elements that are valuable. But what is the value of one element if the system that precedes it is all wrong? And how can I be part of a system that discriminates and fulfills itself on perpetuating that we, or others, are not good enough. What does it say about me if I keep funding the cycle of universal dissatisfaction. And yet, healthcare gaps, capitalism, and the erosion of community life have created a sort of vacuum that the world wellness fills in questionable ways.
Consider the research on our brains about the power of co-regulation. Before we even learn how to regulate our nervous system we learn how to regulate with the input of others. As babies, our brains learn to regulate through interaction with our caretakers. We need each other.
In time, we learn from others to self-regulate and connect to the world around us. We make it through life's upheavals because of one another. Wellness as we know it today makes those connections feel trivial or even unnecessary. At the same time it demands us to keep up with strict standards. Take for example the forty-eight dollar sculpting face wrap by Kim Kardashian to sculpt your cheeks, neck and chin. It demands us to live in a world of perfection. Yet, a world of one. The wellness machine predictably targets those with disposable income, heavily focusing on middle-class white women, while at times pricing out and culturally alienating entire communities. The illusion that certain aesthetics could ever fulfill us.
Have we drank the Kool-Aid?
Who would we be if we took a real self-imposed detox from wellness?
What would happen if we shifted our attention towards spiritual practices and communal experiences?
Can the wellness story be rewritten?
I know it can be disheartening to reflect on how engrained this industry has grown under our skin. It can be frustrating because parts of it can indeed fill a void inside ourselves. The point here is not to eradicate our drive for meaning and connection but to be aware of the scam of thinking that we are incomplete if we don't give in to this trillions of dollars lie.
The ocean is still there. The morning light still breaks. The silence between breaths still holds infinite space. There are many of us who are opening our eyes to the damage that thinking our wellbeing can be bought. These were never commodities to be sold or optimized for mass production. They were always invitations to remember what we already are.
Perhaps this is what wellness was always meant to be. Not the pursuit of something we lack, but the recognition of a state we already inhabit and share with others, in attunement with nature and in awe of our inner capacity for wellbeing, both our own and that of others. Why do we need anything else when we have everything?
Be Well, Adrian
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I am gathering a small group in the Smoky Mountains this fall for a few days of being human together. There are only 2 rooms left. If this essay resonated with you and you're curious about stepping off the wellness industry in community, reach out.
Adrian Molina is a trauma-informed coach, crisis counselor, and peer recovery support specialist based in Miami Beach. He has dedicated over two decades to working with survivors of sexual abuse and trafficking in hospitals, homeless shelters, prisons, and crisis centers. Adrian has trained with RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network), AFSP (American Foundation for Suicide Prevention) and has worked as a volunteer crisis specialist with the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Originally from Buenos Aires, Argentina, he moved to the United States in the early 2000s and began his career teaching yoga before transitioning into trauma recovery work. Adrian's private practice is grounded in the understanding that healing requires both professional knowledge and lived experience. Through his writing and client work, he helps survivors integrate their experiences and reclaim their power.