As the rush of the back-to-school season begins, my feed faithfully transforms into a glossy carousel of a wellness bootcamp. Swipe after swipe, I am served videos like “How to Drastically Glow Up Over the Summer” and “Level Up Your Life This School Year.” The message is seductive and relentless: waking up in silk pajamas by candlelight at 5 AM and organizing my life into an aesthetically pleasing planner will solve all the challenges I experience as a student. Of course, who doesn’t hope to become a more mindful, productive, and dare I say more hydrated version of their past self? But this flood of self-optimization content starts to feel less like study inspiration and more like another impossible standard, conveniently only remedied by online purchases. And no season sharpens that pitch quite like August, when a new school year is marketed as the deadline for being the best student possible.
While the specific keywords shift with trends, the underlying message rarely does. Young people are encouraged to undergo a dramatic (and often expensive) metamorphosis in the name of personal growth, often in parallel with big life milestones. The numbers reflect the impact of this pressure: wellness represents more than $500 billion in annual spend in the United States, with younger consumers comprising a disproportionately high percentage of the $2 trillion global wellness market.
And if we can’t emerge from our proverbial cocoons as unrecognizably shinier, more disciplined versions of our past selves? An overload of self-optimization content catalyzes all-or-nothing thinking with strategic timing to maximize FOMO. This is because some of the most significant sources of stress for teens are academic pressure, financial strain, and social isolation, as noted by the American Psychological Association, which can especially spike as a new school year begins. That timing cuts especially deep as a 2019 Pew Research Center survey found that teens name academic pressure as their single greatest source of stress, with nearly 7 in 10 teens reporting they feel a lot of pressure to get good grades. For adolescents still forming their identities, this messaging can quietly deepen shame and hopelessness instead of promoting resilience.
My own relationship with wellbeing had humble beginnings. In the seventh grade, my band teacher introduced seemingly revolutionary mindfulness exercises to us, and I began naively believing that simply learning the right coping strategies could prevent the worst of the mental health struggles. When the pandemic exacerbated a lasting youth mental health crisis, I clung to the idea that deep breaths and positive affirmations were enough.
To be fair, it was a great starting point. But it was just that – a start. My lived experiences told a far more complicated story.
Growing up in an immigrant household of six in a small two-bedroom apartment, the slow living lifestyle promoted online, complete with lengthy journaling sessions, silent meditation, and pristine personal spaces, was never realistic. Wellness content increasingly felt as though it was speaking to someone else entirely. That disconnect became clearer in my freshman year of high school when I began working with Peer Health Exchange, a nonprofit providing identity-affirming mental health education for young people.
The numbers were stark. When 50% of youth in the child welfare system, 70% of youth in the juvenile justice system, and 21% of youth living in poverty have diagnosable mental health disorders, how can we continue to tout inaccessible interventions as the magic cure? A one-size-fits-all approach to wellness was never going to meet those needs.
Through my work with PHE, I helped develop digital mental health resources like selfsea used by hundreds of thousands of teens—many navigating housing instability, chronic illness, racism, food insecurity, language barriers, or significant caregiving responsibilities. No amount of manifestation, cold plunges, or aesthetic routines can erase such pressures.
The care gap is rooted in both economics and identity. Mental Health America reports that over 1 in 4 youth lack preventative care, with millions of young people facing obstacles that are rarely captured by the neatly curated self-help content online. The communities most in need of support are often those with the least access to the very resources that online wellness culture subtly demands. For adolescents still forming their identities, this messaging can quietly deepen shame and hopelessness rather than promote resilience.
This is where wellness culture can quietly become damaging. Centering expensive habits and elaborate routines as universal pathways to healing creates an unattainable standard for anyone who lacks the time, money, or stability to replicate them.
When talk therapy can cost anywhere from $75 to $150 for one session in the U.S., many teens are forced to choose between mental health care and basic essentials. Even the smallest acts of self-care such as going for a nature walk remain luxuries for many. And for youth in a particularly formative period of their identities, this messaging may add a layer of shame or hopelessness to the existing struggle of receiving necessary support.
From late-night dorm conversations to representing youth voices at the Goldman Sachs headquarters last October, I’ve had the honor of engaging in meaningful discourse about such concerns with many incredible young people. Across our unique experiences, the consensus remains the same: some of the greatest mental health challenges stem not from a lack of discipline but from systemic pressures. Whether that be inaccessible campuses, heavy caregiving loads, unsafe homes, cultural stigma, or financial instability, what was needed wasn’t a better morning skincare routine. It was validation, safety, and culturally informed resources designed with their lived realities in mind.
To be clear, my intention is not to villainize wellness trends as a whole. I am a creature of habit just as much as the next person–I use lavender-scented body wash because aromatherapy helps me unwind after a long day, and I am perhaps a little too dependent on my carefully color-coded Notion planner to organize my work.
However, we must recognize that while intentional mindfulness practices can support mental health, this alone cannot vanquish deeply rooted social inequalities when the clock strikes twelve. The real danger arises in fear-based content that hooks in viewers with the claim that they will never reach self-actualization unless they follow a particular vision-boarding method. Idealizing a schema of wellness rooted in capitalism only perpetuates the systems driving inequitable health outcomes in the first place, and the growing grip of social media on young consumers risks excluding the young people who most need support.
So what can we as a community do? First, help young people name the difference between supportive habits and performative wellness. Ask what actually helps them feel calmer or more grounded without judgment or comparison. Second, model balance by resisting all-or-nothing narratives around self-improvement. Growth does not require transformation on a deadline. Third, advocate for accessible, culturally responsive mental health resources in schools and communities, especially for teens whose stress stems from circumstances beyond their control.
Most importantly, we must collectively hold each other accountable to advocate for mental health as a human right, not a lifestyle brand. If buying a pilates studio membership or investing in a monogrammed leather-bound journal is within your financial means and will motivate you to stay accountable for your personal goals, go for it. But remember that mental health is not something to purchase, perfect, or prove. Being vulnerable when asking for help or simply making it through the day is already an achievement worth honoring.
As we set our goals for the new school year and beyond, I urge us to collectively acknowledge the privilege behind the ways we’re able to show up for ourselves and support the younger generation by continuing to advocate for accessible, identity-affirming mental health care.