The Digital Wellness Dilemma: Navigating Health Information in the Social Media Age

In the years since turning 18, I haven’t maintained a consistent primary care doctor after moving on from my childhood pediatrician. My annual physical typically involves seeing a different physician each time, dependent on location, availability, insurance coverage and which office answers the phone after numerous attempts and seemingly endless hold music. When timely appointments prove difficult to secure, I resort to urgent care facilities.

The actual doctor visits often feel cold and impersonal in sterile examination rooms, frequently with physicians who are strangers to me.

This experience stands in stark contrast to wellness influencers who effortlessly appear on social media, making longevity, happiness, reduced bloating, glowing skin and a stronger immune system seem attainable simply by taking supplements with morning lemon water.

Access to answers for pressing medical questions has never seemed more convenient or appealing.

Many Americans face similar challenges accessing quality healthcare information and providers. According to a 2023 study by the National Association of Community Health Centers and HealthLandscape at the American Academy of Family Physicians, over 100 million Americans—approximately one-third of the U.S. population—encounter barriers to primary care access, nearly doubling since 2014.

Dr. Mike Varshavski, known online as “Doctor Mike,” a board-certified family medicine physician with more than 29 million social media followers, points to multiple factors contributing to healthcare’s shortcomings. These include the closure or acquisition of independent family medicine practices, reduced insurance reimbursement rates, and the administrative burden facing physicians. Family medicine remains among the lowest-paying specialties, discouraging students from entering the field.

These obstacles are particularly pronounced for women and BIPOC communities, especially Black women, who more frequently experience medical gaslighting, making them less likely to trust physicians in future interactions.

Trust represents a significant challenge in healthcare access.

“Survey data indicates that trust in institutionalized expertise has been in decline in the U.S. since the 1950s,” explains Stephanie Alice Baker, associate professor of sociology at City St George’s, University of London. “Throughout the late 20th century, a series of scandals involving the pharmaceutical and food industries has sown distrust about the financial and political motives of scientific and medical institutions.”

This erosion of trust intensified during the COVID-19 pandemic. According to the Pew Research Center, confidence in scientists acting in the public’s best interest declined by 14% between April 2020 and fall 2023.

Meanwhile, social media platforms host tens of millions of videos featuring individuals whose lives have purportedly improved through wellness rituals or products. These creators collectively promote various aspects of wellness—a multi-trillion-dollar industry encompassing mental wellness, nutrition, physical activity, wellness tourism, weight loss, alternative medicine, personal care, beauty and more.

However, these videos don’t necessarily prioritize viewers’ well-being. The motivations of content creators vary widely, from medical professionals with corporate sponsorships or promoting their own products, to influencers with minimal or no medical training accepting gifts or running advertisements for companies whose products they endorse. Some may prioritize selling their own products over promoting genuine wellness.

The Federal Trade Commission requires disclosure of relationships between influencers and brands in a clear manner, such as using #ad or #sponsored. Nevertheless, these wellness videos often convey the impression that health outcomes are entirely within individual control.

“What wellness influencers do very well is make it seem like if you do X, you will be healthier,” says Jessica B. Steier, public health doctorate holder and founder of Unbiased Science. “It makes people feel like they have a ton of control over their health, and that’s empowering.”

This approach makes it unsurprising that viewers are drawn in, potentially led down paths of misinformation if the influencer lacks accurate information or deliberately misleads their audience.

When Misinformation Spreads Like a Virus

As a journalist covering health, wellness and lifestyle for over a decade, I’ve reported on countless wellness trends. Physicians I’ve interviewed consistently emphasize that sustainable health doesn’t come from trending practices but from fundamental principles like balanced nutrition, regular exercise, adequate sleep, stress management and community connection. However, these basic tenets lack the marketability of magical wellness solutions.

Though navigating barriers to primary care can be frustrating, establishing a relationship with a trusted medical professional is essential to avoid relying on uncredentialed influencers promoting wellness trends for personal gain—or encountering misinformation that could jeopardize your health.

“We need to think critically about what we’re encountering when we scroll,” cautions Brian Southwell, a distinguished fellow and lead scientist for public understanding of science at RTI International and adjunct professor at Duke University. He defines misinformation as “information that asserts or implies claims that are inconsistent with the weight of accepted scientific evidence at the time.”

Notable examples of harmful health misinformation include Australian wellness influencer Belle Gibson, who fabricated terminal cancer diagnoses in 2013 and claimed to heal herself naturally through diet, launching a profitable wellness app and cookbook that earned half a million dollars in under two years.

Fitness influencer Brian Johnson, known as “Liver King,” promoted consuming raw animal organs and an “ancestral” lifestyle while marketing his supplements with $100 million annual revenue. In 2022, leaked emails revealed he had been using performance-enhancing drugs like steroids and human growth hormone.

Some cases have ended tragically. Paloma Shemirani died at 23 from a heart attack caused by an untreated tumor after rejecting chemotherapy in favor of alternative treatments recommended by her mother, a conspiracy theorist and anti-vaccine influencer. Similarly, anti-vaccine influencers Dmitriy Stuzhuk and Cirsten Weldon died after contracting COVID-19 while spreading misinformation about the disease.

The appointment of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. as Secretary of Health and Human Services has further complicated determining trustworthy wellness sources. RFK Jr., who lacks medical credentials, surrounds himself with wellness influencers promoting the Make America Healthy Again agenda.

Dr. Garth Graham, cardiologist and director of healthcare partnerships at YouTube and Google Health, cites the 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer Special Report, which found that people consider health expertise to include not only academic training but also personal experience with health issues.

“People trust information from people who are similar to them or at least can empathize with their own cultural or personal experiences,” explains Graham.

Among the 73% of survey participants who regularly see clinicians, 53% believe their doctor is “slightly or not qualified” to address all health concerns. When physicians cannot address an issue, 65% turn to non-institutional sources like friends, family, online searches and social media.

According to a 2025 KFF health information tracking poll, 55% of adults access health information and advice through social media at least occasionally, with higher percentages among young adults and Black and Latinx communities. Edelman reports that adults 18-34 are twice as likely to follow uncredentialed advice compared to those over 55, with 58% regretting health decisions based on misinformation at least once.

The Tricks and Tech of the Wellness Trade

The trust in wellness influencers stems partly from time investment. “People spend about 2 hours daily on social media… They see influencers who look approachable and relatable,” explains Dr. Zachary Rubin, a pediatric allergist with nearly 4 million followers. “They develop parasocial relationships where they think they actually know this person when they don’t.”

Viewers might spend hours listening to online influencers compared to brief doctor appointments. Wellness influencers communicate with authority and confidence, offering simple solutions to complex problems while simplifying nuanced information.

“The three A’s—authenticity, accessibility, and autonomy—are central to how influencers establish trust and intimacy with followers,” Baker explains.

Influencers also appear more relatable than healthcare professionals. “The power dynamics in a patient-doctor relationship aren’t there with wellness influencers,” notes Mariah L. Wellman, assistant professor at Michigan State University.

Creating engaging content takes precedence over accuracy for many influencers. “To create misinformation takes minutes. To debunk misinformation sometimes takes weeks,” observes Andrew Pattison of the World Health Organization. “Creating good health content takes time, effort, knowledge and research.”

The COVID-19 pandemic intensified these dynamics. “The pandemic changed everything,” Steier reflects. “It made many of us face our mortality and reconsider how we’re living our lives.”

Medicine Meets Media

In response to these challenges, the WHO established Fides in 2020—a network of over 1,200 healthcare professionals creating quality health content to counter misinformation. The name derives from “bona fide” (Latin for “in good faith”) and references the Roman goddess of trust.

Fides offers creators health information and assets while providing a space for feedback and coordinated campaigns. Training courses facilitated by tech companies like YouTube and TikTok focus on safety tools, content creation strategies and managing online harassment.

“The idea is to create a movement similar to the anti-vaccine movement, which is small but powerful, well-coordinated and well-funded,” Pattison explains. A 2021 study by the Center for Countering Digital Hate found just 12 individuals—the “disinformation dozen”—responsible for up to 65% of anti-vaccine content on major platforms.

Dr. Varshavski also recognized the need for engaging, evidence-based health content online. “What was captivating was all the people selling miracle products or attacking the status quo,” he notes. He adapted effective communication techniques to deliver accurate health information in an engaging manner.

Dr. Rubin employs similar strategies on TikTok, using distinctive phrases and hooks to increase algorithmic visibility for important health information. “Those are signals that will trip the algorithm enough when I think something’s important,” he explains.

When Followers Pay the Price

Wellness influencer content can trigger health anxiety and lead to unnecessary medical tests and overdiagnosis. A February 2025 University of Sydney study examined about 1,000 social media posts promoting five popular medical tests: full-body MRIs, multicancer genetic testing, women’s egg count tests, gut microbiome analysis, and testosterone testing. These posts reached approximately 200 million followers.

“Around 70% of those promoting these unproven medical tests had a direct financial interest,” reports Brooke Nickel, one of the study’s authors. Beyond overdiagnosis, these tests consume healthcare resources that could benefit those truly in need.

Mallory DeMille, who creates content critiquing problematic wellness influencers, has heard disturbing accounts of followers declining evidence-based cancer treatments in favor of “natural” approaches promoted by influencers—sometimes with fatal consequences. An August 2025 study found 81% of “cancer cure” videos on TikTok contained false or misleading advice.

“The best that can happen is you lose money, time and energy,” DeMille warns. “The real harm comes when someone forgoes evidence-based treatment due to these parasocial relationships.”

Same Snake, Different Oil

Health misinformation isn’t new. The term “snake oil” gained popularity in the late 1800s when entrepreneur Clark Stanley marketed rattlesnake oil as having healing properties. In 1917, federal investigators discovered it contained no snake derivatives—just mineral oil.

“There’s a direct connection to some challenges we face today,” Southwell observes. “There are certain aspects of human behavior we need to keep in mind.”

The desire for personal health control isn’t novel either. The medical freedom movement of the 1980s promoted “healthism”—emphasizing individual healthcare decision-making over institutional authority—which Wellman sees as foundational to today’s MAHA movement.

Internet expansion in the 2000s facilitated sharing personal health experiences—and misinformation—with unprecedented ease. “If you’re seeking answers while emotional and frustrated, you’ll gravitate toward clearly presented information that seems relevant,” Southwell notes.

Tech’s Transparency About Misinformation

Social media platforms have implemented varying policies to address misleading content. TikTok prohibits “inaccurate, misleading or false content that may cause significant harm” with support from moderators and independent fact-checkers. Meta removes misinformation likely to cause imminent physical harm while implementing Community Notes for collaborative fact-checking. YouTube Health features verified public health and clinical experts, labeling content from licensed professionals and accredited institutions.

While these measures represent progress, experts believe tech companies could leverage their resources more effectively. “Let’s combine technology, intelligence, resources and common sense from the health industry to find solutions,” urges Pattison.

The Treatment for Medical Misinformation

While platforms have responsibilities, consumers must critically evaluate health information they encounter. Never consume wellness content in isolation—consult healthcare providers, verify influencer credentials, and check for sponsorship disclosures.

Digital literacy remains crucial. “Sharing posts triggers the algorithm to amplify content to more people,” Rubin cautions. “That creates echo chambers and promotes potentially dangerous therapies.”

Addressing the healthcare provider shortage is also vital. The National Center for Health Workforce Analysis projects a shortage of 87,150 primary care physicians by 2037, particularly affecting rural areas.

Increased funding for science communication would enable experts to counter misinformation more effectively. Initiatives like the Scientist Network for Advancing Policy are working to connect scientists with communities amid federal research funding cuts.

Many physician-influencers accept corporate sponsorships to support their educational content, though this sometimes draws criticism. “If I accept funding, I’m criticized,” notes Steier. “Meanwhile, wellness influencers without the same ethical standards make full-time livings from their content.”

Despite these challenges, communication remains central to healthcare. “Patients are taking a journey with health information online,” Graham emphasizes. “The question is how we can make it a better, higher-quality journey.”

Ultimately, what people seek online is often a community that understands them—a role that influencers have assumed, sometimes detrimentally. Though navigating misinformation alongside healthcare access challenges can be frustrating, critical thinking about the content we consume remains essential.

Anyone can be susceptible to misinformation when seeking unavailable help. Health information-seeking reflects universal human desires—the pursuit of control, the fear of death, and the will to live—feelings we all share.