Therapy, But make it aesthetic/ Healing For Sale

“Self-care isn’t selfish.” This is the mantra plastered across Instagram feeds, pastel journals, and scented candles. But somewhere between lavender-infused teas and subscription-based “therapy apps,” we forgot to ask: is mental health genuinely being supported, or just being sold back to us in the form of commodities?

Mental health awareness has undoubtedly gained momentum in the last decade. The World Health Organization reports that nearly 1 in 7 people aged 10 to 19 years experience a mental health disorder, yet most remain untreated. Simultaneously, the global mental wellness industry according to the Global Wellness Institute continues to grow rapidly. From “healing” candles promising stress relief to ₹1000 gratitude journals marketed as life changers, companies have tapped into a rising demand for emotional well-being and packaged it in Instagram worthy aesthetics.

At first glance, this feels positive. After all, if more people are talking about anxiety and depression, isn’t that progress? But dig deeper, and the cracks start to show. Many of these products are less about healing and more about selling the idea of healing. A journal is just paper unless paired with actual reflection. A meditation app may have calming sounds, but behind the paywall, the “premium” package often charges more than an actual therapy session.

Take for instance, the wellness app industry. Calm and Headspace, two of the biggest names, boast millions of downloads but also rake in hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Their success raises a key question: are they helping users cope, or capitalizing on the loneliness epidemic by locking basic mindfulness tools behind subscriptions?

For young consumers, the situation gets trickier. A Gen Z college student is constantly bombarded with TikToks on “romanticizing your life” and reels about “hot girl walks” as the secret to curing stress. A psychology undergraduate from Delhi, shared on social media, “I bought a crystal-infused candle that promised to ‘heal anxiety.’ It burned out in three days. My anxiety didn't." Her story isnt rare. Brands market vulnerability with aesthetic packaging, selling comfort without accountability.

The numbers also expose the paradox. India faces a shortage of mental health professionals: just 0.75 psychiatrists per 100,000 people, far below the recommended 3 per 1,00,000 by WHO. Therapy sessions in urban areas often cost anywhere between ₹1,000 to ₹3,000 per hour, unaffordable for most. In this gap, corporations swoop in with cheaper substitutes like candles, affirmation cards, or mood-tracking apps, convincing consumers that healing can be bought, conveniently skipping the systemic issue of inaccessible, expensive care.

So, is this all bad? Not necessarily. For some, these products can be a starting point, a scented candle might encourage someone to unwind, or journaling may offer structure to chaotic thoughts. But when corporations position these as replacements rather than supplements to real therapy, the line between support and exploitation blurs.

The core issue is the commercialization of something deeply personal. Mental health isnt a “trend” to be packaged in pastel pink fonts. Yet, for corporations, vulnerability has become the newest market niche. The “self-care aesthetic” thrives because young people crave control in an uncertain world. But healing, unlike skincare, isn’t something you can buy in a bottle.

What’s the wayforward?

For consumers, it means asking tougher questions: Is this product actually helping me? Or is it just giving me the illusion of control? For companies, its about responsibility like selling candles is fine, but pretending they “heal” depression is not. The commodification of mental health is a mirror of our times: aesthetics over authenticity, profit over people. As the global wellness industry grows, it’s crucial to remember that true healing isnt about scented wax or glossy journals rather it’s about conversations, care, and accessibility.

So, the next time you find yourself drawn to that ₹999 “self-love” planner with promises of transformation, pause. Are you actually healing, or just consuming another product in the marketplace of vulnerability?