Why going wild is the new wellness
Lately, relentlessly, I’ve been served a genre of Instagram Reel that delivers a specific strain of dread. Details vary but they’re united by a common framework. There’s an artfully put-together woman wearing a coord, possibly cashmere, wandering the rooms of a home that could be a Modern House listing. She taps buttons on an expensive chrome coffee maker or drops greens into a blender before reclining on an impractically pale-coloured sofa to leaf through a magazine, one of those quarterly ones about design that costs over a tenner and has loads of chic white space on the cover.
‘I love my home so much. Why would I ever want to leave?’ comes her soft voice via the voiceover, sending little bursts of electric aversion through my system. The knowledge that my house is unlikely to ever give an air of understated glamour isn’t the only reason this content leaves me cold. It confirms a suspicion I’ve had for a while; one underscored whenever one mate enthuses about ‘having a chilled one’, another bails on drinks in favour of a bath or I scroll past a meme declaring the value of a self-care routine that’s as rigid as bone: having fun has been cancelled.
My hunch about the rising wave of unsociabilty has been borne out by recent data. A 2023 survey commissioned by Virgin Red found that the average Brit spends just four hours a month hanging out with friends, with a quarter of participants spending less time with them than they did the year before.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a generation climbing the greasy pole while raising young families, millennials fared the worst; more than a third of the generation to which I belong said they struggle to find time to see their friends.
It isn’t just face time that’s at stake, either. I’ve reported for this magazine before on the ‘friendship recession’, named for the fourfold rise in the number of Americans with no friends since the 90s. But the phenomenon is playing out here, too. Around one in five 18- to 34-year-olds had one or no close friends – that’s triple the number in 2012, according to a report from the think tank Onward in 2021. That it appears to be closing time for the UK’s night-time economy, too (it’s lost a third of its pre-pandemic value, found the most recent report from the Night Time Industries Association) is enough to make you Amazon Prime a disco ball just to feel something.
Of course, hedonism’s comedown has been decades in the making, from the dissolving of social ties under an economic system that requires many of us to move away from our village in search of work to a cost of living crisis that’s seen the longest fall in living standards since records began in 1955. But if there’s one thing I keep coming back to, it’s wellness.
I’m not the only one who suspects that self-care has become more reclusive. ‘Between the collective mental health impact and restricted socialising, the pandemic fuelled an emphasis on self-care,’ says health psychologist Sula Windgassen. ‘Which seems to have stuck around.’
And yet, the sun-soaked, sleep- deprived, emoji-laden content from some of the sharpest minds in health is telling a different story to the beige reels I’m being served. From the clinical psychologist raving about the endorphins that accompany dancing all night to the retreat founder who’s found connection on the sober festival circuit, an alternative version of wellness is emerging on my scrolling, swiping travels; one where the only bubbles are the ones being blown in a field, where step counts are earned by walking the length of Glastonbury and yoga mats are strictly for sleeping on (or not).
As festival season pitches up on our feeds once again, I’m curious to know: could hedonism be a health essential?
Groove is in the heart
Back to that dance floor and the woman making the case for pulling an all-nighter. Sophie Mort, the clinical psychologist and author of (Un)Stuck (£10.99, Gallery UK), has been banging the healthy hedonism drum since last summer.
After a weekend spent dancing until sunrise at Primavera Sound, a festival in Barcelona, she shared an Instagram post about the power of intermittently unshackling yourself from the health habits that shape your routine – a spritz of pillow spray and a solid eight hours, for example – as a way of seeking wellbeing.
‘Thinking of health as being solely dependent on strict routines can lead to increased stress, anxiety and rigidity as we try only to do what is “healthy” for us and feel worried anytime we miss that mark,’ Dr Mort tells me, sharing the observations she made of her largely millennial client base.
Of course, for ambitious people – along with anyone keen to keep a roof over their head – tasks need to be ticked off and goals need to be met. And a routine that features regular movement and nourishing nutrition lubricates the wheels of your life and keeps it on track. But, as Dr Mort points out, this can’t become our reason for being.
‘People often forget that they are more than their to-do lists,’ adds Dr Mort. ‘We focus so much on aims, work priorities and tick lists that we forget about being, enjoying and losing ourselves to the moment. Dancing, going to festivals (and even getting lost in the music while dancing around your kitchen chopping vegetables) can free you from the constant striving as it gets you out of your head and back in your body, expressing yourself and doing something just for the sake of it.’
When it comes to the question of the mechanistic magic at play, Dr Mort points to multiple strands of research demonstrating that dancing helps to decrease stress, release endorphins and improve cardiovascular health. Its impact extends beyond the physical, too.
‘Something like going to a festival connects you to communities of like-minded people and often shows you the best side of humanity – one where people come together in a shared joyful experience, where differences are put aside as everyone moves together,’ she says. ‘When you return to your life after a weekend of dancing, you often feel exhausted in your body but energised in your soul. It can be a counterintuitive way of reviving yourself.’
If ever we needed such an intervention, it’s now. A report released by US non-profit-making organisation Sapien Labs found the UK to be the world’s second-most miserable country, based on self-reported data from half a million people, globally (the Dominican Republic, Sri Lanka and Tanzania came out on top; Uzbekistan last). The authors blamed our bottom-of-the-table spot on the dissolving of community and relationships, getting a smart phone at a young age and eating too many ultra-processed foods.
As indicated by these findings, pursuing health – through a multitude of means – surely has a role to play in aiding our national psyche. And while no one’s suggesting that cutting loose is a solution to the structural issues within our society, building some flexibility into your routine is fundamental.
‘When we become rigid, we become more fragile and less able to deal with the inevitable ups and downs of life,’ says psychotherapist Sara Kuburic, author of It’s On Me (£16.99, Quercus). Not only can strict wellness routines lead to a feeling of ‘sleepwalking through life’, she says, but they also insulate you from checking in with yourself to ensure your schedule still aligns with what you want.
Push it, feel good
This rings true for psychedelic integration and embodiment coach Kavita Golia, 45, and holistic wellness coach Holly Fowles-Pazdro, 39, founders of retreat providers Parinama. For the London-based pair, letting loose matters as much for their wellbeing as more typical healthy habits. Both are active, meditate, eat nourishing food and make a living helping clients to live vibrant lives.
They also cut their hedonistic teeth in the local rave scenes where they grew up (the Midlands for Kavita; Bedfordshire for Holly), finding a community through their love of dance music.
Then, they hit their thirties. A major back operation left Holly barely able to walk and unable to work for two years, submerged solely in mental and physical rehab. ‘I knew it had to be mind over matter,’ she says. ‘The pain was rife; to get through it I fully immersed myself in wellbeing, from breathwork to acupuncture.’
Meanwhile, Kavita began to notice the impact of alcohol on her mood. ‘I completely stopped going out dancing for a while,’ she shares. ‘I’d quit drinking and I didn’t think I’d have the willpower to stay away from booze. But I missed that moment where you’re looking around at a joyful crowd moving together and that sense of unity.’
The change of pace meant switching up how they got their hedonistic fix. ‘Attending raves sober proved to be the perfect compromise. ‘I can be with my friends, feel that energy and get home to bed for my full eight hours,’ Kavita says. As Holly puts it, ‘There’s that same feeling of aliveness.’ She weaves moving to music into her morning, too – after writing down her daily gratitude list she gets her favourite tunes on and dances at full throttle. ‘For me, music is a therapy, it connects my mind, body and soul.’
Both relate to the wildchild to wellness pipeline – a trend WH has reported on before – that’s been played out in celebrity culture, from the pivot of 90s party girl Kate Moss into wellness, via her brand Cosmoss, to Lily Allen swapping heavy partying for sobriety and Pilates. For Kavita, the two go hand in hand. ‘I do think people who have a tendency to chase euphoric states realise you can access similar sensations via yoga, meditation and ecstatic dance.’
Blah blah blah
Of course, healthy hedonism isn’t just for the reformed wildchild; it’s for anyone who wants to seek pleasure for pleasure’s sake. For Tanith Carey, having things in the diary to look forward to is an intentional tactic to manage the creeping inertia that can, if left unchecked, grip our day-to-day existence. Each week, the journalist pencils in something she knows she’ll enjoy, whether it’s a weekend seaside trip with her daughter or a date to visit an art gallery.
She landed on the tactic while writing her book, Feeling ‘Blah’? Why Life Feels Joyless And How To Recapture Its Highs (£16.99, Welbeck). The title is premised on anhedonia, a Greek word meaning ‘without pleasure’; it’s the sensation of losing interest in the things you once enjoyed. (If it sounds a lot like depression, experiencing anhedonia doesn’t equate to a diagnosis, although a person going through depression might report this sensation.) Tanith was moved to examine anhedonia after she began to experience it herself, during midlife.
‘In my late forties and early fifties, I found myself feeling anxious about going on a motorway. I’ve worked as a New York correspondent for a paper; done lots of mad journalistic things – it just wasn’t me,’ she says.
The timing, however, was no coincidence. ‘One reason for feeling “blah” is the decrease in oestrogen, which occurs around the time of perimenopause,’ she adds, referring to the period that precedes menopause, when your reproductive hormones begin to fluctuate but your periods haven’t yet ceased (you’re menopausal when you haven’t had a period for a year).
Among other functions, oestrogen buffers the impact of cortisol and increases levels of dopamine, the motivation molecule involved in giving you that desire to get up and do something, whether that’s booking a weekend away with mates or heading to the gym. It’s one reason you’re vulnerable to mood-based symptoms during perimenopause. You may also be raising teenagers, caring for parents and navigating the demands of senior roles at work, so you’d be forgiven for feeling a bit, well, blah. (Current NHS advice is to see your GP if you’re dealing with physical or mental symptoms relating to this phase of life.)
But for Tanith, breaking free from blah looked like healthy hedonism. ‘Ask yourself: what is it that you enjoyed doing before you felt this way and then go back to that and try to do more of it,’ she says, adding, ‘I think of it as a form of prescribing for myself.’
Are we human?
The idea of self-prescribed fun hits for me. Stunned into a frozen sort of marching forwards following the death of my mum in the summer of 2022, I found myself relentlessly crossing items off a to-do list: write her eulogy; register her death; book therapy.
Come that September, a trip to Ibiza with two of my best friends resulted in a transcendental night – one that featured dancing until morning and skinny-dipping in the hotel pool – that shifted something inside me, from a robot simply going through the motions to a flesh-and-blood person fully enjoying her present moment. I’m not the only one with such an experience either: Kavita recalls a moment crying on the dance floor of a rave while sober. ‘I don’t know what precisely I released but I was flooded with this immense joy and sense of connection,’ she says.
For Dr Kuburic, the impact of considered hedonism can be medicinal indeed. ‘I don’t think life should be merely “endured”. Having fun is an important part of being human and taking care of ourselves. Yes, we can find meaning (even) in suffering, but it doesn’t mean we should only look for it there.’
Dr Mort believes it’s making time for yourself away from the banality of everyday life that’s so important. ‘At a festival or a rave, you’re away from the usual reminders of work and stresses and strains, instead being in a bubble set up purely for that moment.’
As a result, she says, your habit loops – checking your emails on repeat, fretting about a work project – aren’t triggered in the same way; you get to live in the here and now. ‘At festivals, I always think: “If aliens exist, this is the side of humanity I’d like them to see,”’ she adds. ‘People dancing together, laughing together, having fun.’
So consider this your summer permission slip to do whatever makes you feel good this season, to indulge in sheer, hedonistic thrills and to acknowledge the profound place that vitality has in human life. Health-wise, it’ll pay higher dividends than buying another green powder.
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Claudia is Health Editor at Women’s Health. She commissions, edits and writes about topics including the happiness potential of less conventional relationships, the future of genetically modified food, how hormonal changes can play with your sleep and the ways in which vaccine disinformation spreads.
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