Why Does Every Wellness Brand Talk Like a Therapist Who Ghosted Me?

I just wanted to buy protein powder.

Instead, I got a website asking me to “return to myself” and “honor my inner knowing.” The product was chocolate-flavored. I don’t know what that had to do with my inner knowing.

Somewhere along the line, wellness brands stopped talking like companies and started talking like people who owe you an apology. The tone is soft, emotionally available, and just vague enough to sound profound. It’s part therapist, part cult leader, part ex who thinks they’re being mature by calling you “love” in a breakup text.

You’re not just buying supplements anymore. You’re engaging in deep ancestral healing. You’re not taking magnesium. You’re “giving yourself permission to rest.”

And yet, when your order gets lost, the same brand that just told you “you are already whole” ghosts you faster than a college situationship.

The Soft Language Arms Race

The wellness world is built on a weird hybrid of empathy and marketing. Brands talk to you like you’ve just gone through something, even if what you’ve gone through is a long week and tight hamstrings.

Every sentence feels like it belongs on a billboard outside a yoga retreat or in a very soothing hostage negotiation.

• “You are enough.”
  
  

• “The body remembers.”
  
  

• “This is a safe space for your nervous system.”
  
  

• “Everything you need is already within.”
  
  

It’s calming, sure. But it also feels like a weird thing to hear from a company trying to sell you herbal deodorant.

The Disappearing Act

It’s all very nurturing until you need something. A refund. A tracking number. An actual answer. Suddenly the company that was “holding space for your truth” reroutes you to a chatbot named Sage who tells you to clear your cache and meditate on your expectations.

It’s like being in a one-sided relationship. All the warmth, none of the follow-through.

The Optimization Pitch Disguised as Healing

Most of these brands say they want you to feel good. But underneath that is a low-key pressure to improve. To optimize. To be less tired. Less distracted. Less bloated. More balanced. More grounded. More chill. But not too chill, because you still need to subscribe.

They aren’t selling solutions. They’re selling self-improvement disguised as self-acceptance. Which is fine, until you realize you’re spending $60 a month trying to be “enough” for a brand you’ll never meet.

Why Do They Talk Like This?

Because it works. Because when life feels like a mess, there’s something comforting about a company that sounds like it understands. Because we all want someone, or something, to tell us we’re doing okay—even if it’s a toner.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t buy the magnesium. Maybe you need it. Maybe I do too. I’m just saying it’s okay to be a little suspicious when your protein powder sounds more emotionally mature than your last three relationships.