by Jax Dara
There was a time when being healthy just meant you ate vegetables and didn’t pass out walking up stairs.
Now, it’s a lifestyle. A constantly updating algorithm. A full-time job with no benefits and a lot of supplements.
Everywhere you look, someone is tracking their sleep, calibrating their macros, timing their caffeine, and proudly posting the results like they’ve cracked a code the rest of us are too lazy to learn. These people are not just into wellness. They’ve turned optimization into an identity.
You’ll know them by the language. They don’t eat food. They fuel. They don’t take naps. They recover. They don’t walk. They zone two.
We’re not improving anymore. We’re upgrading.
Wellness used to be about feeling better. Fewer headaches. Less stress. More energy. The baseline was functioning like a person.
Then came tech. Then came data. Then came the idea that you could engineer your body like a productivity app.
Now it’s not enough to feel good. You have to be optimal. And if you’re not, you need to figure out what’s wrong and correct it immediately, preferably with an ice bath and a nootropic stack that costs more than your car insurance.
At the center of this is data. Sleep scores. HRV. Blood glucose. VO2 max. You can now monitor yourself at all times and get a constant stream of information telling you whether you’re living well or just existing like some idiot who doesn’t know their resting cortisol levels.
For some people, this is empowering. For others, it’s exhausting.
Because once you start tracking everything, it becomes harder to enjoy anything. You don’t sleep. You fail your sleep score. You don’t eat lunch. You spike your blood sugar. You don’t walk far enough. You get a gentle vibration from your watch that makes you question your entire lifestyle.
It’s wellness by shame notification.
This version of optimization is especially popular among men. Probably because it offers control without emotion. You don’t have to feel better. You just have to test better.
It’s wellness without vulnerability. No therapy. Just tracking. No feelings. Just formulas.
The language is all action. Stack this. Hit that target. Crush recovery. Dominate inflammation. It’s a whole genre of health where the goal isn’t peace. It’s performance.
None of this is inherently bad. Wanting to feel good is fine. Caring about health is great. But somewhere along the way, the wellness world stopped being a toolkit and became a persona.
The guy who never eats gluten. The guy who fasts until 2 p.m. The guy who won’t go out on Friday because it messes with his REM cycle. These aren’t habits. They’re declarations.
Optimization isn’t something he does. It’s who he is. And like any identity built on control, it’s fragile.
Because what happens when your data looks bad? When your supplements stop working? When your gut health doesn’t care how many podcasts you’ve listened to?
What happens when you stop optimizing long enough to notice you don’t feel like a person anymore?
It’s possible to care about your health without making it your entire personality. You can drink the greens powder. You can wear the Whoop band. Just maybe don’t let it replace your ability to be a full, chaotic, occasionally tired human.
Because sometimes the optimal choice is doing nothing.
And sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is skip the magnesium and eat the sandwich.