I have a confession: I don’t like massages. I don’t love spa days. And I will never understand spending four hours on a golf course when I could be doing literally anything else.

For years, I nodded politely when well-being conversations came up at industry events. Yoga. Meditation apps. Digital detoxes. All wonderful things—for someone else. Meanwhile, I was quietly building my own version of well-being that looked nothing like the brochure. And that is perfectly fine.

Well-being is what fills your soul—full stop

The event industry loves a good framework. We are checklist people, systems people, “let’s-build-a-run-of-show-for-everything” people. So, it makes sense that we’d try to apply that same logic to self-care: follow these five steps, book the spa, download the app and voila—well-being achieved. But well-being isn’t a deliverable. It’s deeply, stubbornly personal.

For extroverts, well-being might look like organizing a Thursday happy hour with three of your favorite humans. Loud restaurant, good wine, even better conversation. Energy restored.

For introverts, it might look like taking your laptop to a coffee shop you’ve never been to before, ordering something with too much espresso and working on a project you actually care about. New atmosphere. Fresh energy. No one asking you anything.

Well-being could be a walk around the block between calls. It could be sitting in your garden with your phone face-down. It could be arriving at a conference a day early just to wander the city, find the interesting wine bars and the good coffee shops and remember that you are a person, not just a planner.

Sometimes my version of well-being happens at 35,000 feet. It’s the first time in three weeks I’ve cracked open a book I actually want to read. Or it’s finally getting my files organized and my writing caught up—which, for me, feels like exhaling.

None of these are wrong. None of them require a booking confirmation or a spa robe.

The real problem with “wellness culture”

When we default to one-size-fits-all well-being, we do two damaging things. First, we make people feel like they’re failing at self-care because they don’t enjoy the prescribed version. Second, we keep well-being firmly in the “reward” category—something you earn after the event wraps, after the client is happy, after everyone else is taken care of. That’s backwards.

When you treat well-being like a business model—something you design intentionally into how you work, not something you bolt on afterward—everything shifts.

Three questions worth sitting with

You don’t need a “wellness plan.” You need a little honest self-reflection. Start with the following.

What do you do that makes you lose track of time in the best possible way? That’s a clue. Follow it.

When during your work week do you feel most like yourself? Not most productive. Most like you. There’s a difference, and it matters.

If you had a free Tuesday afternoon with zero guilt attached, what would you actually do? Your answer to that question is probably the most accurate definition of well-being you’ll ever write.

Your move

Stop borrowing someone else’s well-being template. Yours might look like a spa day. It might look like a solo coffee shop session with your laptop and a project you love. It might look like an early flight and a city you haven’t explored yet.

Define it. Protect it. Make it non-negotiable. That’s not indulgence. That’s strategy.

Leanne Calderwood is a personal branding and thought leadership strategist for senior level professionals who are ready to finally stand out and be recognized for their ideas. Through her group coaching program, she empowers expert professionals to mine their expertise, create an irresistible offer and attract high-value clients using their personal brand. You can connect with her through her at leannecalderwood.com or via LinkedIn.