Wellness has turned into a religion, and its gospel is simple: if you just meditate harder, smile wider, and drink enough celery juice, you will be fine. Burnt out? Journal about gratitude. Anxious? Breathe through it. Stuck in a toxic job? Try a yoga retreat instead of a resignation letter. The unspoken rule is that you aren’t allowed to feel bad — not ever — as long as you have your Himalayan salt lamp plugged in.

This is toxic positivity: the cult of pretending everything is okay while your life is quietly collapsing.

Here is the thing: positivity is good in moderation. Optimism makes you resilient. Gratitude rewires your brain to notice joy. But like all medicine, overdose turns it into poison.

Science backs this up. Studies show that suppressing negative emotions — the “just smile through it” strategy — actually increases stress hormones, worsens mood, and leads to higher rates of depression. Psychologists call it emotional invalidation: when you force yourself (or others) to deny what is real in favour of what looks good.

Telling yourself “good vibes only” when you are exhausted isn’t self-care. It is gaslighting — by your own brain.

Of course, there is money to be made in keeping you “almost okay.” That is why Instagram is filled with influencers peddling detox teas, mushroom lattes, and pastel journals that promise to heal your soul (for $29.99). Wellness has become capitalism in yoga pants: convincing you to buy your way to inner peace.

The absurdity is that actual wellness — sleep, balanced food, exercise, therapy, boundaries — doesn’t sell as well. You can’t package “go to bed on time” into an affiliate link. So instead, we get chia seed puddings and affirmations printed on water bottles.

I have tried it. The meditation apps that chime at me like corporate monks. The endless gratitude lists that made me feel guilty for not being grateful enough. The juice cleanses that promised clarity but delivered nothing but dizziness.

And here is the honest truth: none of it made me feel better. What did? Admitting I was tired. Crying (or screaming) when I needed to. Eating actual food instead of powders. Going to therapy. Saying no to things that drained me. That isn’t glamorous, but it works.

Real wellness isn’t cute or aesthetic. It isn’t the influencer with perfect abs doing sunrise yoga on the beach. It is the unsexy, unmarketable basics:

Wellness isn’t about erasing the negative. It is about making space for the full spectrum of being human — messy, tired, hopeful, broken, alive.

So let me say it: you don’t have to be positive all the time. You don’t have to smile through burnout. You don’t have to detox your body with lemon water when your liver is already doing it for free.

Sometimes self-care is green juice. Sometimes it is crying on the bathroom floor. Both count. Both are valid.

Because the point isn’t to be perfectly happy. The point is to be real. And that is something no wellness app will ever sell you.