Is It Possible to Have Wellness Without Toxic Wellness Culture?

“Everybody’s got skin in the game; find an angle and a jugular vein. Everyone’s a guru now!”

-Saint Motel

We live in a time when wellness has become synonymous with toxic wellness culture. But when I think of wellness, I’m thinking of something entirely different than wellness culture, which in its most toxic form is infamous for its portrayal of perfection (especially physical perfection), its exclusivity, and its overt individualism that often results in apathy toward social justice issues and denial of collective planetary needs. On the other hand, I see wellness as a way of living and being that supports physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health both for the individual and the collective.

This is going to sound blunt—and it’s intended to be— but if I had to pick one song lyric to describe wellness culture, it would be the one you see above: “Everybody’s got skin in the game; find an angle and a jugular vein. Everyone’s a guru now!” Thanks, Saint Motel. (P.S. Go listen to their music immediately after finishing this article! You’ll be glad you did.)

I imagine that some of you may be reading this and thinking, “Ouch.” But that’s the reason I’m writing this somewhat audacious blog, and why I interviewed fellow wellness practitioner and health blogger Lindsay Voorhees to get her valuable insight for this article, too. But first, let me offer some backstory.

In 2021, I walked away from a secure but exhausting job to prioritize my physical and mental health after experiencing a severe bout of burnout. That’s when I discovered that certain wellness practices—like those I wrote about in this past blog post—helped me feel a lot better.

Then, near the end of 2022, I was invited to attend a breathwork class at a local yoga studio in Marin County, California—a Bay Area region just north of San Francisco by way of the Golden Gate Bridge, well known for its natural beauty, sprawling mountain views, world-famous hiking trails and mighty redwoods. I must point out, however, that it is not known for its human diversity. (This is a good time to state that my perspective comes with ongoing acknowledgement of my own privilege as a white, middle class, cisgendered, heterosexual, neurotypical, educated woman living in the United States on former Miwok ancestral lands.)

To be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what a “breathwork class” meant at the time, but I was excited to keep diving into the world of wellness. I was still new to the whole thing, and I was loving every new practice I was discovering within this new world: meditation, mindfulness, reconnecting with nature, and even elements of mysticism. Growing up in southwest Missouri, I was groomed to be very skeptical of most wellness practices, so I was fresh and bright-eyed.

At the time, I was nursing an ankle injury that was making it hard to get around. Frequent and easy injury is a fact of my life, as it is one of the cornerstones of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, Hypermobility Type, a chronic medical condition I was diagnosed with in 2015.

When I arrived at the yoga studio for the breathwork class, I was surprised to find that there were several stairs to climb to get into the studio. I looked around searching for an elevator or even a lift, but I didn’t find one. I counted the stairs—thirteen—and considered my options. Do I text the woman who invited me and tell her I can’t attend the class (and therefore be forced to “come out” about my invisible disability before I was ready to?), or do I brave the many stairs, knowing it could further weaken my ankle?

As someone who lives with an invisible disability, I face these questions daily. However, I was astonished that this business—whose primary focus is wellness— didn’t have an accessible way to enter their studio! Because it was still early on in my (ongoing) recovery from perfectionism and people pleasing, I chose to brave the stairs. These people do not need to know about my disability or access needs, I thought.

After painstakingly climbing those thirteen stairs, I was tired and aching. However, my specific disability often allows me to push on, despite the pain. Looking down those stairs, I thought about the people whose disabilities would not allow them to participate in the breathwork class I was about to attend (or any other classes at the studio). What about someone in a wheelchair? Someone with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome? I attended the one class, but I never returned. As someone whose needs were overtly overlooked, I didn’t feel welcome.

That wasn’t my first encounter with ableism, but it was my first brush with the inaccessibility of wellness culture. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last.

Fast forward to 2023, when a well-known health and wellness “guru” posted on her Instagram that she did not “believe in chronic illness.” In doing so, she “accidentally” used the hashtag #chronicillnesswarrior, which led to a community of chronically ill/disabled folx seeing her post and commenting about the overt and troubling ableism in her message. Within minutes, her account was temporarily deactivated, allowing her to remove the post, but not before she shared a picture of herself in her Instagram stories looking shocked and wrote, “Remind me to never hashtag #chronicillnesswarrior again.”

I started to realize that wellness and wellness culture were two distinctly different things, and as someone who cares a lot about accessibility and inclusivity, I have found myself compelled to help bridge the gap between the two. Wellness practices help me feel a lot better, and I want to do my part to make sure they’re accessible to anyone who wants to use techniques from the world of wellness to support their own physical and mental health.

Which led to this question:

It it possible to have wellness without toxic wellness culture?

I started to wonder if I was the only person working in wellness who didn’t necessarily approve of the apparent message of wellness culture. Then the universe introduced me to Lindsay Voorhees, occupational therapist-turned-wellness coach. Here’s what she had to contribute to this conversation during our recent interview:

Question #1: What comes to mind when you hear the word “wellness?”

 LINDSAY: Wellness is incredibly personal and encompasses the physical, mental, emotional, social, and spiritual. To me, wellness is…

● having the way I spend my time and energy align with my priorities and values;

● prioritizing relationships and activities that are restorative, joyful, and nourishing;

● honoring losses and tending grief with gentleness;

● nurturing a compassionate, collaborative relationship with my body;

● connecting intentionally with myself, loved ones, and the world around me (community

and nature);

● feeling present and finding a sense of purpose and meaning in life.

Question #2: Do you think wellness and wellness culture are the same, or different? If different, what do you think differentiates the two?

LINDSAY: In reflecting on this prompt, I was actually surprised just how dissimilar, almost dichotomous, my conceptions of wellness and wellness culture are. I allowed myself to free-write words and phrases that came to mind [see her list printed below]. The first word under wellness was wholeness; the second was connection. Conversely, the first word under wellness culture was perfection, followed immediately by never enough (which not coincidentally was repeated later in my list).

I believe that wellness is about finding and connecting with our whole selves. Wellness is deeply personal and relational. Wellness culture can actually encourage disconnection from our inner wisdom and from others, as we strive to become our “best selves” (whatever that means) by following outside voices, programs, and protocols.

Wellness culture also hyper-focuses on individuals and mostly ignores community and societal health and wellness, including the impact of oppression and systemic inequity in the forms of racism, homophobia, sexism, ableism, etc.

My free-association brainstorm:

Wellness - (inner sense of) wholeness, connection, balance, state of feeling capable of riding the waves of life, saying no to things that aren’t life-giving, self-acceptance, self-kindness

Wellness culture - perfection, never enough, striving, unattainable, yoga pants, exclusive, judgment, cliquey, the “right things” (to eat, wear, buy), grounded in consumerism/capitalism, never enough (whoops, wrote that twice!), luxury, superfluous, focus on physical body.

[A quick note from Elisha : Interestingly, Lindsay’s free-association list almost exactly mirrors a list I created for myself prior to this interview. Exercise for the reader: create your own free-association list to see how you compare wellness with wellness culture. It may surprise you!]

 Question #3: Do you feel the wellness community is an inclusive place for disabled folx? Why or why not?

LINDSAY: As a whole, I don’t think the wellness community is an inclusive place for disabled folks. Of course there are some exceptions where disabled folks are leading the way and spaces where non-disabled folks are doing really intentional listening and disentangling from the ableist, profit-driven wellness culture.

I recently sought out the opportunity to lead a session on accessibility and inclusivity in a 200-hour yoga teacher training (YTT). While there are awesome YTT programs that focus on these topics specifically, very few “mainstream” trainings do so. In its current, co-opted Western iteration, yoga has become grossly reduced to a very specific aesthetic, oftentimes a set of prescriptive physical forms and sequences. For those of us who steward the gifts of yoga as teachers, I think we absolutely can and need to change that limited and limiting approach. 

I was encouraged to witness students thinking about teaching people having human experiences like injury, disability and illnesses whether they are temporary or chronic, visible or invisible. As humans, our bodies and minds have amazing variety and yoga is a practice that can and should honor that. People with pain, trauma histories, changing mobility, balance challenges, fatigue, and other human experiences should be welcomed not just with words but with spaces that are intentionally inclusive. I have private clients come to me because they live with health conditions and have never felt like they could walk into a yoga class. I love working with them and helping them approach mind-body practices with creativity and confidence. However, I also want to see community spaces becoming more welcoming and accessible. Yoga is ultimately about union and connection – within oneself and with other beings – so anything that divides, excludes, or alienates is not yoga. (I write more about this in my blog post Remembering + Reimagining: Yoga Teacher Training Reflections.)

Question #4: Do you have any suggestions for wellness studio owners, managers, and/or teachers to help ensure their spaces and services are inclusive and accessible?

LINDSAY: I believe moving towards radical inclusivity means going beyond the bare-minimum requirements (such as ADA regulations) and reflecting on current practices with intention, curiosity, and willingness to change. A few questions to ask yourself:

1. Can people with different forms of mobility (including the use of assistive devices and wheelchairs) enter and navigate the physical studio space?

2. Are there options for virtual participation, especially in post-COVID times?

3. What does “all levels” mean?

4. Are there seated and/or chair classes?

5. How do teachers approach language, sequencing, and exploration of variations to support students’ experiences?

Question #5: What led to your decision to use “wellness” in your own business’s name? Have your experiences using this word been positive, negative, or neutral?

LINDSAY: Though I am trained as an occupational therapist, I currently support folks as a wellness coach and mindful movement guide. I intentionally and specifically support folks navigating life with chronic illness and complex health conditions. I was a bit hesitant to use the word “wellness” because of the negative connotations many folks have with wellness culture, which is not particularly inclusive and often perpetuates ableist attitudes and practices. I did think about using a more obscure word or even making one up, but I still need people to kind of know what I do!

Ultimately, I trust that once folks start to read (or hear) more about my philosophy and approach to wellness they’ll understand how different it is from toxic wellness culture. When I talk about wellness, I’m definitely not talking about weight loss, specific foods/diets/supplements, or really any kind of one-size-fits-all (or one-size-fits-none) approach. I am talking about self-compassion and self-kindness. I am talking about cultivating gentle, flexible routines for mindful self-management of health conditions. I am talking about accessible, trauma-informed embodiment practices. I am talking about restorative and restful practices for personal and community transformation.

Question #6: How do we, as practitioners, reach the people who may not feel comfortable with the word “wellness?”

LINDSAY: I think it helps to share consciously about what we mean when we say “wellness” and to invite folks into the conversation to continue learning together and fleshing it out. I talk a lot about living well with chronic illness (that’s actually the subtitle of my group program) and I’m very clear that you get to define what that looks like – not your doctor, well-meaning friends, random strangers who comment on your posts, or the larger cultural narratives. To me, the most important thing is continuing to emphasize that wellness is available to everyone, not just people who live without health conditions and/or disabilities.

Much like Lindsay, I selected my own business’s name—Feel Creative Wellness, LLC—with great intention. Though my experiences as someone with an invisible disability interacting with wellness culture have not been great, my experiences with wellness practices, including all of the services I now offer through my business, have been life changing.

I believe true change and transformation happens from within systems. Though we clearly have a long way to go, it’s heartening to me to know that there are other people on the front lines of wellness who are actively working to make it more inclusive and accessible.

So what can you do today to make your wellness services and/or spaces more accessible?

Let’s start by dropping the image of “perfection”—especially in wellness marketing. Let’s keep accessibility in mind when designing studio/business spaces as well as planning retreats and other community events. (ADA compliance should be a no-brainer, so if your studio/practice space isn’t ADA compliant, that’s step 1.) Let’s value people’s individual experiences, abilities, and health goals—one size does not fit all. Let’s make accessibility/inclusivity training mandatory for all wellness practitioners. If we can, let’s offer sliding scales to address economic/financial disparity. Let’s listen to and elevate marginalized voices. And let’s keep talking about this important topic, because that’s the only way true change happens.

What do you think? Is wellness possible without wellness culture? We want to hear your thoughts! Email us today.

Lindsay Voorhees, OTR/L, Wellness coach + mindful movement guide

Lindsay is a wellness coach and mindful movement guide who helps people discover ways to thrive while living with chronic and complex health conditions. She supports clients in nourishing their own resilience and finding more freedom in their bodies and lives through empowering, evidence-based self-management and accessible, trauma-informed mind-body practices. Lindsay brings her expertise in neuro occupational therapy, mental health, and embodiment (mindfulness, dance, yoga) into collaborative 1-to-1 client work and group programs. Her flagship group, Root to Rise: Living Well with Chronic Illness, opens for Summer 2023 enrollment soon. You can find out more at her website here or by signing up for her newsletter here!

Elisha Ellis Madsen, MME, MT-BC, NMT

Elisha Madsen is a board-certified music therapist and owner of Feel Creative Wellness, LLC. When she isn’t practicing music therapy, creating music, or advocating for disability rights, you can often find Elisha writing (subscribe to this blog below!), birding, or resting on benches or trees with her aging dog. Follow along on Instagram for more illusion-free wellness content: @feelcreativewellness

Learn more about working with Elisha here.