My Therapist Says I’m Doing Great — So Why Did I Just Spend $327 On Crystals?
Worried about your crippling anxiety? There’s a crystal for that!
Cat Crawford | Unsplash Let me be clear: I am thriving. My therapist says so, and I pay her $185 an hour to say it with conviction.
Okay, true, I broke down when I bit into a chocolate chip cookie and discovered it was cinnamon raisin, but that was me processing the situation. That’s what healing looks like! Because emotional stability comes from accepting that life is not always what we expect.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder, if I’m so stable, why did I just Venmo a woman named “StarlaLight111” for a baggie of ethically-sourced “trauma-repelling” amethyst?
If my therapist says I'm doing so great, why did I spend $327 on crystals?
It started, as most spiritual awakenings do, with an Instagram Reel. A woman with a face like a porcelain doll who said “like” a lot told me that Mercury is in Gatorade, and I needed to realign my sacral chakra immediately.
I was on the toilet at the time, which felt sacred. Twenty minutes later, I’d ordered a moon-charged candle, a guided audio cleanse narrated by a British man named Tussy, and something called a “soul exfoliator,” which turned out to be a very aggressive loofah.
By Friday, I had spent more money on inner peace than on rent in 2009. My Amazon order history read like a psychotic break sponsored by Goop. Aura mist. Womb-healing tea. Quartz-infused bath salts — non-edible, learned that the hard way.
Don’t get me wrong, I love therapy. I go every week. We process. We reframe. We even tried EMDR until I told her the blinking light reminded me of my ex’s PlayStation, and I dissociated.
But the problem with therapy is that it makes you aware of your patterns. And once you’re aware of your patterns, you realize you’re the problem.
Amina 'ently / Shutterstock
So instead of changing, I pivoted to crystals because crystals don’t ask questions.
They sparkle and glow, like me after I get lots of “likes” on an Insta story. I told my therapist about my recent “spiritual investment.” She blinked slowly, like Windows 95 buffering.
“How did that make you feel?” she asked, which is therapist code for “Are you okay?”
I said it made me feel supported. Rooted. Connected to my inner child, who apparently loves expensive shiny rocks and has a rewards account at Erewhon.
Here’s the truth: I don’t want to look inward, I want to vibrate higher. Why unpack my childhood when I can clutch rose quartz and call it “heart chakra healing?”
Now, when I tell people I’m very spiritual, I am. I’ve got my crystals. Crystals that never judge. They happily give the unconditional support I pretend to offer myself.
Who needs self-awareness when you’ve got a $78 geode that promises emotional clarity and a TikTok astrologer telling you it’s not your fault?
Saturn’s just in a mood. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe healing doesn’t have to look like breakthroughs in beige offices.
Maybe it can look like palo santo, a bath bomb, and 40 minutes of moaning to a YouTube sound bath called “Release Financial Anxiety with Whale Sounds.” Or a limited-edition Gucci malachite gua sha .
Anyway, I’m off to smudge my apartment and place my crystals in the shape of my ex’s initials for release. Healing is a journey, and mine ships in 3–5 business days.
Julia Wolov is a TV comedy writer and performer. She co-created Faking It on MTV, Biatches on Comedy Central Digital, and many other pilots and shows that will never see the light of day. She blabs a lot on Medium and has yet to write something her mother could be proud of.
