“What does it mean to be healthy?”
This question bounced around my mind today, gently, like a feather circling in the wind. Not harshly demanding an answer, but softly nudging me to think. And I realized—health isn't just about leafy greens or the absence of disease. It's about peace. It's about rhythm. It's about finding harmony in a world that often plays off-key.
We live in a world where “wellness” is sold to us in curated morning routines, green smoothies, yoga mats, and scented candles. While none of these things are bad—some are lovely, even—they don’t necessarily reflect the whole picture. They are snapshots. Glimpses. And sometimes, masks.
I’ve watched people I love suffer from invisible battles. Anxiety that simmers beneath the smile. Sleepless nights masked by concealer. Aches in the soul that no doctor prescribes pills for. I’ve watched myself go through them too. So, this isn’t a post with bullet-point tips or one-size-fits-all solutions. This is a conversation.
Health is messy. Sometimes it looks like choosing salad; other times, it’s choosing rest and letting yourself have ice cream without guilt. Sometimes wellness means showing up to the gym, but sometimes it’s staying in bed because that’s where you need to be.
Let’s talk about the inner part of wellness. Because even the cleanest body can host the loudest mind. And even the fittest person can feel the weight of being unseen.
A study (yes, I read a lot) once showed that loneliness can impact health as severely as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Imagine that. Loneliness. A feeling. Affecting the body like poison. That’s the kind of connection we rarely talk about. But we should.
Because our bodies hold our stories. That lump in your throat? Maybe it's an unshed tear. That constant fatigue? Perhaps your soul is tired, not your body. That tension in your shoulders? It could be the weight of all the things you haven’t said.
Healing, I’ve learned, is not always forward. It can spiral. You move ahead, then stumble back. Some days you’ll feel reborn. Others, broken. But every day is part of the journey. And that, in itself, is beautiful.
Take time. Go slow. Speak to your body as you would to a wounded friend. Gently. Kindly. Don’t let the world’s noise drown out your own voice.
Let health be not a checklist but a song—one you learn to sing in your own tune.
Comments
Post a Comment