Self-care in 2025 is like a group project where everyone’s trying to lead—and nobody brought snacks. Between my aura ring, mindfulness app, and gut flora tracker, I thought I’d be floating on a cloud of chamomile-scented serenity by now. Instead, I’m sobbing in the shower while a push notification reminds me I’m “2 days behind on breathwork.”
We were promised enlightenment. We got daily streaks, monthly subscriptions, and reminders to hydrate sent by a sad little robot named “Calmbert.”
Welcome to the self-care industrial complex, where your feelings are monetized, your serotonin is gamified, and your Sunday scaries are just more “data points.”
📱 Wellness, Weaponized
I downloaded an app to help me sleep. Now I need melatonin to cope with my sleep app.
Let’s talk about my current lineup:
- SleepMate: tracks my REM cycles and judges me harder than my mom on report card day.
- ZenDen: a meditation app that sends 6 push notifications a day to remind me to unplug.
- GutCheck360: wants me to log every bean, burp, and bowel movement to “optimize my microbiome.”
I’m not even living anymore. I’m starring in a Truman Show reboot called “Optimizing Avner: The Quantified Man.”
Somewhere between syncing my smart scale and logging a mood emoji (yellow smiley with thundercloud, thanks for asking), I lost the plot. I used to just be tired. Now I’m tired and behind on my gratitude journal.
Pullquote: “I missed my journaling streak and now my app says I’m emotionally ‘red-zoned.’ I think that’s just called Wednesday.”
💦 Crying Counts as Hydration, Right?
My hydration app just sent me a crying face emoji. I think it’s mocking me.
The adaptogen industry is out here selling us $72 “mood water” in glass bottles wrapped in vibes and vague promises. It contains lion’s mane, ashwagandha, and presumably the tears of underpaid brand interns.
I drink it while doomscrolling and somehow still feel bloated and spiritually empty.
Meanwhile, my water tracker refuses to acknowledge that my cold brew counts as fluid. Rude.
Pullquote: “I’m 80% water, 20% guilt notifications.”
🛏️ Sleep Like You Deserve It (You Don’t)
My sleep app said I got 8 hours. My anxiety said “Nice try.”
There’s something uniquely cruel about being graded on how unconscious you were. Last week, I got a sleep score of 63. Sixty-three?? That’s barely passing in high school and definitely failing in adulthood.
And don’t get me started on “smart alarm” wake-up tones. Nothing like the soft sound of forest birds coaxing you out of an existential spiral at 6:15am. The app says “refreshing.” I say “menacing.”
Pullquote: “My aura ring said I’m thriving. My bathroom floor says otherwise.”
🧘♀️ Calm Has Become Competitive
Meditation used to be about peace. Now it’s about streaks, badges, and who can breathe the most mindfully while heating up leftover quinoa.
ZenDen gives me weekly reports on how “present” I’ve been. Spoiler alert: I’m always “moderately distracted,” and I don’t need an app to know that—I just need to look at my search history:
“Is it okay to meditate angrily?”
“Can you do breathwork while hate-walking?”
Even my mindfulness sessions are multitasked. I once did a 10-minute meditation while also stirring risotto and low-key panicking about my taxes.
Pullquote: “I’m not sure if I found inner peace or just muted all my notifications.”
💸 Burnout, But Make It Aesthetic
In 2025, burnout comes in rose gold.
It smells like palo santo and costs $219/month across 4 platforms. Want to feel less anxious? Great, first download this app. Then pay $6.99 to unlock the good mantras. Then another $12.99 to see your “emotional weather” chart, which is always “partly sobbing.”
Self-care isn’t a practice anymore. It’s a performance. There’s an aesthetic to healing now. Pastel journals. Beige activewear. Guided audio affirmations read by someone who definitely owns a $1,200 juicer.
But somehow, despite my chakra-aligned socks and affirmations playlist titled “I Am Worthy,” I still feel like a sentient CAPTCHA test.
Pullquote: “Self-care used to be a nap. Now it’s a 7-step process and a payment plan.”
⚡ Quickfire: “Too Real, Didn’t Laugh (but still laughed)” 😬
- My therapist canceled. My breathing app double-booked me. Now I’m doing EMDR with a scented candle.
- My stress app told me to “get more sunlight,” so I opened TikTok on the balcony.
- I paid $18.99 for a virtual sound bath that sounded suspiciously like a dishwasher.
- I did a 5-minute meditation and achieved inner peace for exactly 3.5 minutes. Then my Slack pinged.
- I’m in a group chat called “Gut Friends” and we just send each other screenshots of our bloating scores.
- My mood app says I’m “glum with potential.” I think that’s just a Libra trait.
- I journaled, meditated, hydrated, stretched, and slept 8 hours… and still feel like a wrung-out dish sponge.
🔁 Callback Characters
Let’s recap the emotional support cast of this saga:
- SleepMate: passive-aggressive grader of my unconsciousness.
- ZenDen: judgmental mindfulness coach with a badge addiction.
- GutCheck360: weirdly into my poop schedule.
- Adaptogenic Water: influencer in a bottle.
- Aura Ring: says I’m peaking while I’m mid-tears and surrounded by chocolate wrappers.
They mean well. But their combined energy is less “serene wellness” and more “multilevel marketing scheme with anxiety.”
🎤 Final Thoughts: I’m Not a Wellness Project, I’m a Person
Sometimes self-care looks like bubble baths and smoothies. Sometimes it looks like a peanut butter sandwich eaten standing over the sink while whispering “I’m doing my best.”
And here’s the truth none of the wellness apps want to admit: You don’t have to track your peace to feel it. You don’t have to unlock Premium Mindfulness to be okay. You’re not a KPI. You’re a person.
So yeah, I’m still crying in the shower. But now I know it counts as hydration. And I muted SleepMate’s judgment for the week. Progress?
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