By Agbai Sharonjoyce
Imagine waking up each morning to a routine that feels more like a job than self-care: drinking structured water, swallowing a handful of prescribed and unprescribed supplements, checking apps to see if you slept well enough. For millions of people immersed in the wellness industry, this has become normal.
Now a $4.4 trillion global market, the wellness industry increasingly treats the human body like a machine in need of repair. At its core is the idea of self-optimisation, the belief that one must never stop striving to become a “better” version.
Over time, wellness has shifted from a personal choice to a moral obligation. This has given rise to what experts call wellness syndrome, where feeling sick, stressed or tired is framed as a personal failure. If something is wrong, the industry implies, it is because you did not purchase the right product or work hard enough on yourself.
This constant pressure to improve can fuel anxiety, burnout and a persistent feeling of not being good enough. The obsession has extended beyond homes and gyms into workplaces through corporate wellness programmes.
These initiatives often promote an image of the “ideal worker”—constantly striving, never tired and perfectly disciplined.
While this may sound positive, research suggests that such programmes can amount to a form of legal discrimination. Some employers use employees’ health information to impose higher insurance costs on those deemed “unhealthy.”
This system punishes people with disabilities or chronic conditions. it also creates a level of hierarchy in which physical fitness is equated with moral worth.
Technology has intensified this culture. Smartwatches and health apps track movement, heart rates, sleep cycles and even stress levels. While self-tracking can be helpful, it can turn everyday life into a stressful competition governed by numbers.
Inthe book “Desperately Seeking Self-Improvement,” two authors spent a year experimenting with extreme optimisation practices—from electric shocks to boost productivity to restrictive diets for weight control.
Instead of feeling fulfilled, they became miserable, isolated and deeply dissatisfied with themselves.
Their experience illustrates how excessive focus on data and performance can disconnect people from their sense of self and from meaningful human relationships.
The wellness industry also often presents itself as an exclusive space for the rich. It promotes expensive supplements, gadgets and lifestyles that are out of reach for many. Most importantly, this emphasis on personal choices obscures the real drivers of health: the social determinants of wellbeing.
Health is shaped largely by factors such as safe housing, clean air, stable income and supportive communities.
True wellbeing is not found in a bottle or measured solely at the gym. it lies in rest, meaningful relationships and the freedom to simply exist without constant self-surveillance.
Yet the wellness industry keeps people on a treadmill nonspot, selling the illusion that perfection is attainable—when, in reality, the healthiest choice is often to slow down and be human.
Conclusion
The wellness industry’s obsession with optimisation has transformed health from a basic human need into a performance metric. What began as a desire to feel better has turned into a never-ending pursuit of perfection.
Rather than empowering individuals, this culture often stirs guilt, anxiety and exclusion, while ignoring the social and economic conditions that really shaping wellbeing.
Wellness cannot be measured only by step counts, sleep scores or supplement stacks. It is found in balance, rest, connection and compassion.
By stepping away from relentless self-optimisation and embracing a more humane understanding of health, individuals—and societies—stand a better chance of truly living well.
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