It’s my own fault for following so many wellness gurus on Instagram.
Maybe I’m searching for a silver bullet - if I can just find the right influencer, they’ll tell me how to solve all my problems. It hasn’t worked yet. Now my feed is full of #HealthIsWealth posts, and smiling people with perfect hair telling me that my wellbeing is the most important thing I have and that I must nurture it daily.
That’s all well and good. It really is, I don’t disagree. But I’ve been to the hospital three times this month, and no amount of avocado and good vibes are going to help with that.
So what now?
In recovery
The trips to the hospital haven’t all been for me. My son was born with a kidney condition (nothing serious, we hope, but something that needs regular monitoring). So he has been for his bi-annnual scan. I’m writing this having spent the day in A&E with my husband, who managed to shut the car boot on his head and give himself a concussion. (Scaring me out of my mind in the process, thanks honey.)
Only one of the trips was for me, when I was taken into A&E with chest pain. It’s the third time in four years that this has happened, and I’m now waiting for further tests to investigate a possible autoimmune condition.
When the Accident & Emergency doctor told me he suspected an autoimmune condition, you might reasonably assume that I was scared or upset. But instead, I found this immense wave of relief rushing over me. Of course I don’t want to have an autoimmune condition - I don’t want to have any kind of health condition - but I have spent many, many years feeling not quite right, and to finally have someone tell me that there might be an actual reason, that it might not be just all in my head, that I might not be just a bit rubbish at doing life, that there might be actual pills that will make me feel better… it felt like winning some kind of bad luck lottery.
It also made me realise how long I’ve just been getting on with it for. I quite often feel unreasonably tired, achey and nauseous for no apparent reason, and this has been coming and going for years. At least a decade, maybe closer to two. But I’ve been getting up and going to work and doing all the normal life function things, because what else could I do? There wasn’t anything clearly wrong with me, so keeping on keeping on was the only option. If I do get a definitive diagnosis, maybe that gives me an excuse to go a little easier on myself. To recognise a genuine need for rest and recovery time. To ask for a little slack from the rest of the world.
Because we need an excuse, don’t we? We don’t feel able to say that we just don’t feel good and we need to look after ourselves. Which is ridiculous. Because health is the most important thing, and we should be nurturing our wellbeing, but somehow we have been taught that that means we need to act as healthy as possible and push ourselves to do that extra gym session (not forgetting to take a picture with our post-workout smoothie for Instagram), rather than understanding the limits and needs of our bodies.
Health for the wealthy
We can’t genuinely nurture our wellbeing, because our society punishes less-than-perfect health. If we take time off work, we lose out on money. We’re seen as weak and less valuable (even though length of time sitting in a chair does not correlate to quality of output). And since it costs quite a lot to be unwell (in medicine, assistive tools, accesss support, supplements, wellness products, not to mention all the extra avocado), who can risk that?
There’s also this constant narrative that, if we’re not completely healthy, it must be because we’re not putting the effort in. We’re not eating well enough, not exercising enough. Even though when it’s a struggle to even get out of bed in the morning, you cannot possibly contemplate going for a morning run or cooking an elaborate dinner. Yet we internalise the idea that it’s our fault. That we’re just not trying hard enough.
So we force ourselves beyond our limits, we keep going longer than we should, and, unsurprisingly, we end up feeling even worse. We’re perpetually trying to recover from the overdoing it, without ever reaching a point where we might be able to start recovering from the illness itself. Much like when you get into debt and become trapped simply paying off the interest forever.
Health and money are closely connected. Wealthier people are, you may not be all that surprised to hear, generally more healthy than economically disadvantaged people. It’s expensive to eat fresh fruit and vegetables; it’s expensive to go to the gym (and to yoga, and swimming, and to the spa); it’s expensive to stock up on vitamins and bath salts and ergonomic chairs. I’ve had a bad back for years and am regularly advised to go to a physiotherapist, but I cannot justify the cost. Yes, health is wealth, but I also need to pay my mortgage, clothe my kids, and feed my book addiction. Physio will have to get in line.
So what does all this do to our happiness?
Feeling unwell is draining. Not just physically, it grinds you down mentally. It can make completing even the smallest task feel as big, and as daunting, as climbing Everest. This makes getting through the day quite exhausting. Then you look at all those smiling, healthy people on Instagram. You look at all the people around you who are glowing after their lunchtime yoga sessions or who burst into the office in the morning with a spring in their step when they haven’t even had coffee, and you feel inadequate.
You also feel a constant longing to just feel better. To feel ok. Just normal would be fine. But you have this sense that you’ll never be normal. That you might never feel ok.
It’s an emotional weight that threatens to crush your heart.
Physical health and mental health are so closely aligned that researchers struggle to separate them. Do people with physical health issues experience a higher rate of mental health problems than the general population because physical pain causes emotional distress, or because mental health issues cause physical symptoms? Probably it cuts both ways. But any kind of health challenge is going to chip away at your sense of joy in life.
Health and happiness
The wellstagrammer brigade would insist that we can find joy in illness because it shows us the value of every day. That, having experienced pain, we are more aware than ever of the simple pleasures of the sun on our face and the sound of a child’s laughter. That we learn each morning is a gift. That you need the rain in order to get the rainbow.
And, honestly, they can do one.
Life is harder when you struggle with your health, let’s not mess around. I know that I’m incredibly lucky to only face minor health challenges (so I guess, I am now more grateful for the health I do have… wait, were the gurus right?! Surely not…), but I also can’t help but wish I just felt ok, at least most of the time.
I do want to protect my physical and mental health as far as possible, though. Given that my health account isn’t exactly flush, I can’t afford to lose any. So I am learning to:
Prioritise rest. It’s ok not to do all the things, and it’s ok to do some things no more than adequately. It is completely ok to sit on the sofa for an evening under a blanket watching the Australian version of Traitors and do absolutely nothing else because your body and brain need a few hours off.
Be clear on what matters. While I’m skipping some things and half-arsing some others, I know that some things do need to get done, and they need to get done to a high standard. But those are only some of the things. So I need to identify which ones those are so I can focus my energy there, and then take the next night off to sit under the blanket.
Set expectations. I have a terrible habit of responding to requests with, “Sure, I’ll get that done by the end of the week.” No one asked for it by the end of the week, Allegra, why are you volunteering that? Moving a little closer to a diagnosis has really helped me to have conversations with friends, colleagues and my family about what I can realistically manage, and where I might need more time. Even being open with my children about what Mummy can do and when Mummy needs some rest time is helping them to understand that yes, we can play a few games of Oddball (a game my kids have invented that I’m yet to fully grasp the rules of), but then you will have to play by yourselves for 20 minutes while Mummy recharges. And if you could do that without hitting each other, that would be superb. But you don’t need to have a diagnosis to have these conversations - it turns out actually anyone is allowed to say that they don’t feel up to something and to talk about their needs. I know, crazy, right?! Who knew??
Stop comparing. It can feel utterly crap when everyone else seems to be bounding around doing endless things and just feeling brilliant, but I have to keep reminding myself that that’s just a story I’m telling myself. I don’t know what other people are feeling. I do know that I’m responding to all “How are you?” questions with, “I’m great, thanks, how are you?” regardless of how I feel, so it’s reasonable to expect that everyone else is as full of s*%! as I am. We only see everyone else’s carefully curated and filtered Instagram feed, not the Picasso-esque carnage of their inner psyche, so it’s pointless comparing. We all have stuff that makes us feel rubbish. We all have stuff that makes us feel good. All we can do is focus on our own good stuff and try to get through the crap. Ok, a career as a wellness influencer isn’t exactly beckoning to me, but you get the idea.
Take it one day at a time. Some days are going to be too much. And that’s ok. Some days, you’ll feel better. Take control of your good days and milk them for all they’re worth. Go easy on yourself on the tough days. What more can any of us do?!
If you’re having a rough day today, I see you. It’s hard. Look after yourself. Hopefully tomorrow will bring you something a little better.
And unfollow the girl with the avocado. She’s full of s*%!.
I left IG months ago. I am into the gym and health on many levels, and I have an MA in Workplace Health and Wellbeing, but half the stuff on social media is so unrealistic it makes me vomit in my mouth. Do what you can within your control; it's much more liberating than being shackled by the self-beration I spent in the past making comparisons online.
I had chronic burnout from 28 to 38 years of age and have autoimmune disorders. It felt like I was literally automated daily in a vicious cycle of trying to survive and just keep up, pay the bills and sleep on repeat.
I now manage my autoimmune illness with lifestyle change within my control and am in remission. I relate so much to you feeling like it was in your head, and a diagnosis is a relief.
I hope you get the answers and rest you deserve. And yeah, one can definitely have wellness pursuit burnout too; there just aren't enough hours in the day some days to prioritize your health and wellness, but there is self-compassion we can always access freely and abundantly when needed.
Yes! This is one of the reasons I struggle with Instagram. I've unfollowed most of the wellness people I was following. Love your tip number one..... rest is more important than I realised until recently