Can I Still Be a Wellness Girlie If I'm OK With Being Sick?

In today's world — amid intensive biohacking and accessible diagnostic testing — illness is a seen as a personal failure. People nod their heads empathetically or suck the air in between their teeth the moment you mention the words "chronic illness." Maybe there's still hope for you — maybe there's a last-ditch supplement you haven't tried just yet (my cousin says it works wonders). But more than likely, you're beyond repair.

Back in 2020, I contracted COVID and had my first ischemic stroke three months later. Inflammation continued to run rampant through my body, and I eventually developed a mass of inflammation directly behind my right eye ( ultimately resulting in the loss of this eye. Throughout my health journey, many have promised to "fix" me: doctors, strangers, even partners. Some put the onus on me, explaining that I could undo my condition via diet or self care. Others claimed to have the solution themselves, often in the form of a certain supplement, tincture, or exercise program. The two constants? Everyone wanted to make me un-sick . . . and no one was ever successful.

I may be a bit jaded, but chronic illness has a way of bringing health and wellness to the forefront. Now that I'm in a more stable condition, I enjoy finding new (evidence-based) practices to optimize what's left of my health. I eat my probiotic yogurt in the morning, listen to brown noise at bedtime, exercise daily, and do yoga after work. I've tried guided meditations, protein coffee, massage therapy, sound healing, and aromatherapy to boot. I participate in certain elements of wellness culture because I don't take my health for granted, and it feels good to make it a priority. But I don't expect it to make me any less sick.

As someone who will forever be sick in some way (and has since come to terms with that), it's awkward when everyone else in the wellness community is trying their hardest to avoid ending up like me. I get that it's a tough pill to swallow: if all illnesses cannot be fixed or prevented, then they could easily affect anyone. That's not to say a healthy lifestyle can't set you up for relative success. But looking back on my healthy 21-year-old self whose entire life was disrupted by a pandemic — if your intention is to avoid sickness at all cost, you're fighting a losing battle.

It's not a bad thing to be sick, and while some wellness practices do help me feel better, I know they won't ever "fix" me entirely (and that's OK). "I'm so sick of people acting like optimal health is the ultimate goal, because it's not possible for everyone," creator Erin Hattamer says in a March TikTok. "Some people are sick, it happens, it's part of life, and there's nothing wrong with you if you are sick." My feelings exactly.

When I roll out my yoga mat, it's to decompress after a long day, not work my way to a permanent solution. When I take some much-needed rest, it's to prevent future flare-ups, not undo my blindness. I have personally felt the impact of stress, diet, sleep, and exercise, and there are certainly things I can do to support myself and my health. But when my lab results come back, the inflammatory markers remain in the red, and no amount of turmeric will change that.

I'm not ashamed of being sick, nor do I see it as a failure. No matter what the wellness industry tries to tell (or is it sell?) you, health cannot be bought. In fact, now that I've let go of trying to un-sick myself, I've been able to enjoy my wellness journey a lot more. A clean bill of health will probably never be in the cards for me, but I haven't given up on living the best life I possibly can. And at the end of the day . . . isn't that the whole point?

Chandler Plante (she/her) is an assistant health and fitness editor for PS. She has over four years of professional journalism experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine and contributing to Ladygunn, Millie, and Bustle Digital Group.