Still Human After All
When I started my wellness journey back in 2021, I went into it convinced that total healing was the only acceptable outcome. I spent a lot of money chasing advice from influencers and wellness experts who claimed healing your gut was the key to perfect health—and if they could do it, so could I.
Every time I had a stomach issue or a lingering pain that didn’t go away with rest, I’d throw every tincture and natural remedy at it—and obsess over it—until the next ailment came along for me to try to “perfect,” too. Spoiler alert: perfection never came.
Everywhere I looked on social media, people were talking about how healed they felt—how they had endless energy, glowing skin, and perfect digestion thanks to their clean lifestyles. Obviously, I wanted that—who doesn’t? But what I’ve come to realize is that they were lying (or at least not telling the full story). And also… what does “perfectly healed” even mean?
We’re exposed to toxins and stress every single day. Even with unlimited resources, it's literally impossible to live a completely clean life.
While I followed that mentality for a few years, I never reached peak “health,” and honestly, the way I was living wasn’t sustainable. These days, I take more of an 80/20 approach. I cook most of my meals at home, take my supplements, move my body—but I also go out to eat, breathe the same polluted air as everyone else, and live in a world that, let’s be real, is kind of toxic. Without living in a literal bubble, there’s no avoiding it.
One of the biggest things I’ve learned? A lot of my gut issues were rooted in stress. Yep. My constant state of fight-or-flight and chronic anxiety were major players in my digestive symptoms.
While I’m working on that, the reality is that we’re all living highly stressful lives—with our constant connection to one another through smartphones, a relentless and negative news cycle, and the pollution we’ve created by being greedy and destroying our planet.
We’re imperfect beings—so our health journeys are going to be imperfect, too.
My health has improved tenfold, but it’s still not perfect. I’ve had long stretches where I felt incredible (which is why my first-ever wellness blog post was all about having a “healed gut”—or so I thought). But I still get acid reflux that feels like it’s burning a hole in my esophagus, and sometimes I begrudgingly resort to PPIs—even though it kills me a little inside. Then there are days I’m so bloated, the pants have to go. It’s not cute, but it’s real.
Over time, I’ve started to view healing differently. If we’re constantly evolving as humans, shouldn’t healing evolve too?
I still get fatigued. Some days, I need a three-hour nap. That doesn’t mean I’m regressing—it just means I need rest. And maybe next time it’ll be a one-hour nap and some green tea instead of losing an entire afternoon. Either way, it’s okay.
Wellness should be individualized. What feels like health for one person might look totally different for someone else—and that’s fine. Most of what you see online is filtered, curated, and aspirational anyway.
I used to believe that if I couldn’t do wellness perfectly, I shouldn’t bother at all. But that all-or-nothing thinking just kept me stuck. If I look back at where I was four years ago, I’ve come so far. Healing is about celebrating the small wins and learning how to move through the hard days. I’ve got more tools now, and when symptoms show up, I don’t spiral the way I used to.
We live in a culture that idolizes perfection—but that’s not real life.
The more I let go of the obsessive search for answers and cures, the lighter things feel. Being hard on yourself and criticizing your body—that’s just as damaging as eating a glyphosate-infused salad. (A little teaser for the next post.)
Right now, self-compassion is one of my biggest practices.
Every time I’ve had a “relapse” in my health, I used to blame myself—for slipping up on my diet, for not thinking positively enough, for not doing things the “right” way. But all that did was create another cycle of shame and ultimately worsen my symptoms. These days, I’m learning to be softer. To let things be a little messy.
Because healing isn’t linear—it’s human.
