When I’m going through a crisis, the first thing off the top of my head is to go absolutely feral, not sitting down and journaling my thoughts.
The more commodification of self-care worsened, the more people started to believe relaxation and bath bombs were solutions.
Not only does this come with a massive price tag, but it also teaches individuals the cycle of needing to continuously “treat yourself” after every burnout.
The trend of self-care emerged as a massive marketplace for products and services that make up a $4.5 trillion worldwide wellness economy, according to the Global Wellness Institute.
It’s common for TikTok creators to caption #selfcare under a video of them getting their nails done or buying something expensive to treat themselves.
Some may say staying calm and thinking things through is the best way to handle problems, but it doesn’t necessarily suit everyone.
My parents going to prison when I was an adolescent was a tough situation to tackle, especially because I was growing up not knowing when they were coming home.
We were apart for three years, a chunk of my life that still feels incomplete no matter how much time we spend together today.
I was young, I didn’t know what the fuck mental illnesses were and how much trauma I would have to unpack as I got older.
Most Asian families don’t believe in mental illnesses, and I unfortunately didn’t have the luxury of having access to professional help — because I was literally six and didn’t have a clue of what that was.
The mindset of mental illness not being real was engraved in my head so much that I was conditioned to self-destruct and compress my emotions.
Coming from this family background, seeking real help wasn’t necessarily an option when I got older and knew how much trauma my parents caused.
Unhealthy coping mechanisms were my only resort because therapy and medicine were unattainable.
Illegal drugs and self-harm were unfortunately my versions of “self-care.” If I couldn’t talk to my parents about my issues or afford help, these were my ways of dealing with it.
Today, my first instinct during mental breakdowns is to go back to my old ways because that’s what feels like home.
Although I have unlearned many past practices, I can’t seem to help but relapse and go on a complete rampage.
It’s a difficult situation when I want to steer away from them, but I’ve practiced for so long that it’s deemed as normal for me.
Real self-care is getting professional help, and it’s a terrible feeling when you can’t afford it.
Self-care is crucial and should be advocated for, but the way social media commodifies it isn’t helpful for all given situations.
Coming from a very traditional and poor Vietnamese family, bottling anger and lashing out are toxic behaviors I struggle with improving.
It’s unfortunate that many individuals think giving their money to big corporations will make them feel “better,” but in reality, I’m sure they couldn’t care less about their customer’s mental health.
The wellness industry loves to capitalize off of other cultures.
Those jade rollers and gua shas that are advertised as tools to relax and rejuvenate you? Yeah, that comes from Chinese culture.
To have knowledge that minorities don’t have the same opportunities and try to trap them with nontraditional items is wrong.
I’m tired of seeing videos of people ranting about how they made a big purchase during a “manic episode," mainly because it normalizes the bad habit to their audience.
A manic episode refers to when an individual has a period of extremely energetic, happy or irritable moods that last for up to a week, and it is usually a sign of bipolar I disorder, according to Psych Central.
You would think seeing people advocate for these materialistic things would encourage you to make the most out of your day.
I don’t want to get out of bed and have a “self-care day,” I want to rot in bed and go to sleep.
I completely understand the method of sweeping feelings away to forget them, but the amount of damage that needs to be healed when you’re older isn’t worth it.
Burying yourself with an abundant amount of purchases isn’t going to heal what needs to come to surface.
I’ve participated in retail therapy and can admit that it definitely helps me destress, but it’s only for a short period of time.
Retail therapy refers to shopping with the primary purpose of improving the buyer's mood or disposition, according to a Jan. 15, 2020 article by Healthline.
How much money do I have to spend to feel happiness to actually last?
Is there a “self-care” service or item I can purchase to be the person my younger self needed?
No amount of beauty services in the world could have made me feel as if I was going to be sane.
I had to overcome my mental illness by coming to terms that I had to deal with everything head on if I wanted to build healthy reactions for the future.
The worst part is that my past self wants revenge for all of the trauma I had to face, but my future self craves peace and security.
No one can commodify self-care to me because none of that advice works for childhood trauma.
My young vulnerable self would definitely fall for those gimmicks, but actually sitting down and having those uncomfortable conversations is what works best for me.
