Breaking Up with Healing

And Why I Think We've Taken the Obsession with Fixing Ourselves Too Far

After over a decade spent in healing spaces and reading every possible self-help and psychology book, I’ve started to wonder—has our obsession with wellness turned into just another form of self-sabotage? Has the very culture that promises relief from suffering actually become a trap, keeping us perpetually stuck in a cycle of self-improvement that never ends?

It’s a bold thought, I know, especially coming from an aspiring therapist. But look around. We’ve reached a point where personal development, healing, and wellness have become synonymous with living a good life. The message is clear: if you’re not actively working on yourself, you’re falling behind. And yet, for many of us, the more we try to heal, the more broken we feel.

I’m convinced that a lot of what passes for "the work" today is little more than a distraction at best, and at worst, it might be the source of our stress and suffering.

In our current culture, wellness is not just a personal choice—it’s become a moral imperative. We are told that being well, being happy, being whole is the ultimate goal. Anything less feels like failure. And because of this, we’re always searching for the next healing trend, the next meditation app, the next diet that promises to rid us of whatever ailment (physical, emotional, or spiritual) plagues us. But for those of us who’ve been on this path for a while, there’s something unsettling about the whole thing.

It’s not that healing is bad—far from it. But our relentless pursuit of being our "best selves" can easily turn into a fixation, a belief that we are never enough as we are. What started as a journey toward wholeness morphs into a constant search for the next thing we need to fix, like a never-ending to-do list for the soul. Personally, I have found can become exhausting, even harmful.

One of the most pervasive ideas in the wellness world is the idea of presence. Be present. Feel your emotions. Attend to your body. While there’s deep truth in this advice, it also hides a major flaw: it’s incomplete. We are told that if we just focus on what’s happening in the moment, we’ll find peace. But no one talks about what happens when we become obsessed with our suffering, ruminating on it under the guise of “being present.”

Hyper-focus on the problem doesn’t always lead to its solution. More often, it amplifies the issue until it’s all we can see.

As we fixate on healing, our problems seem to grow. And when the healing doesn’t come, when the mindfulness apps don’t “fix” us, we double down. We meditate more, we journal harder, we do yoga until our muscles ache. But is this really healing? Or is it just another way to exert control, another way to run from the discomfort of simply being with ourselves—imperfections, mess, and all?

Wellness has replaced religion for many, offering a sense of purpose and moral guidance. It’s no longer enough to deal with illness as it comes—we must preemptively optimize ourselves at all times. We are not only responsible for our bodies but for our souls. Fail to do so, and you’re cast out, seen as less-than. If you’re not well, if you’re not healed, if you’re not happy, the subtext is clear: you’re not trying hard enough.

But what happens when wellness becomes just another performance? When the pursuit of balance turns into a rigid regimen of kale smoothies and morning meditations that feel more like punishment than practice?

We’ve become fixated on the idea that to be well is to be successful, happy, worthy of love. And yet, for those of us who live with chronic illness or who struggle with mental health, this relentless pursuit of wellness can feel like a cruel joke. If health and happiness are the new markers of success, what does that make those of us who will never be perfectly well?

Here’s the truth: healing isn’t something you achieve. It’s not a finish line you cross where everything is suddenly perfect. Healing is a process, a journey that unfolds over time, often in ways we can’t predict or control. But when we’re caught up in the wellness culture, we lose sight of this. We begin to see healing as something that can be hacked or optimized, like we can will our way out of suffering if we just try hard enough.

The danger here is that we start to feel like there’s something wrong with us when healing doesn’t come. We wonder if we’re broken beyond repair. But maybe the problem isn’t that we’re broken—it’s that we’ve bought into the lie that we need to be fixed.

What if healing doesn’t mean becoming some ideal version of ourselves? What if healing isn’t about being happy all the time or being free from pain? What if true healing is about accepting ourselves as we are, in all our messiness, imperfection, and humanity?

Maybe it’s time to break up with healing, at least as it’s currently defined. Maybe it’s time to stop seeing ourselves as projects to be perfected and start embracing the complexity of what it means to be human.

Because healing, real healing, isn’t about transcending our pain. It’s about learning to live with it, to hold space for all of our experiences—the good, the bad, the ugly—and still find a way to move forward.

Healing isn’t a goal. It’s a practice. And sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is to stop trying to heal and simply let ourselves be.

xo,

Stephanie