YOU ARE NOT BROKEN: ONE WELLNESS MYTH WE MUST LET GO OF FOREVER
I recently got knocked down with a ‘breakthrough’ covid infection that I would not describe as ‘mild’. Though I was suffering — from a fever, body aches, cough, and the infamous loss of taste and smell — in those first days of illness I’ll admit that a part of me was excited. I had the THING. The THING of the Century. I’m vaccinated. I’ve been cautious and respectful of this virus. But I caught it anyway. How unlucky.
After a couple of miserable days though I started to feel bad about myself. I’m a wellness professional after all, and consider myself exceptionally healthy. I’m well-nourished and well-exercised. I meditate regularly and sleep well. Why me? Shouldn’t my system be stronger?
I am not a very stoic sick person, so I easily settled into self pity, self criticism, and self blame. Naturally, I headed for the ‘shoulds’: I should have skipped that glass of wine. I probably should be vegan. I could actually be in even better shape. I haven’t been to acupuncture in a while. My self care regime had failed me. I had not transcended.
If you are someone who gravitates towards alternative wellness modalities, you might be experiencing a hint of self-righteousness as you read this. You may be thinking, ‘She’s right, she could have done better and avoided this. I haven’t caught the THING. Was she doing her cold plunges? Had she considered aioaska?’ You may be right.
Except. I’m not broken.
Nothing is wrong with me. Or you. In fact. Everything is right about us.
My body didn’t fail me. My body did exactly what it was supposed to do. It successfully fought a new and unfamiliar virus with a little head start from a vaccine. Sure I got sick. I suffered. But why was that akin to failing? Where did I get the idea I shouldn’t get sick? Why was assuming I had done something wrong?
My negative self-talk has its origins in the indoctrination I received (and you may have a touch of it too) from my years of participation both as a client and as a professional in the wellness industry. You see, the wellness industry has told me, sold me… and you… in one way or another, again and again, on the idea that we are broken.
This message reinforces a prevailing view among wellness advocates that the individual body (and person) is something to be venerated but improved upon. How do we know it needs to be improved upon? Because that individual body (and person) suffers. However, if properly nurtured, purified and prepared that body (and person) can ascend into a higher state of being. So improved, the individual will finally have access to the good life that awaits. The one that is just out of reach, but oh, so close.
Wellness marketing is devoted to reminding me that with just a little more self care (and a contribution from my pocketbook) I can become whole.
Except, I’m not really not broken. And never was.
I’m human. I’m imperfect. And I suffer.
My body is a mortal human body, entangled with and embedded within the context and structures of my community. As the Buddha noticed, it is vulnerable to aging, disease, and death. And just like you, I suffer. However, I’ve picked up the idea that to suffer is to have not worked hard enough to find a solution to my suffering. To suffer is to be unwell. And to be unwell, according to the dogma of the wellness industry is to have failed myself.
If I were to examine my plight of suffering and illness from a traditional world-religion point of view I might be guided to see my experience through the lens of sin and salvation, karma and reincarnation or simply as a misguided understanding of the nature of all existence.
But I am a student of a new age sort of spirituality. One that holds religious and philosophical doctrines with curiosity but at arm’s length. One that peers towards the universe for answers, blending science with spirituality. One that is leery of conventional theologies but enamored with all things ancient, other-worldly, and exotic. And one that looks to intuition over intellect for fortitude during life’s trickiest moments.
There is nothing wrong with this approach, but one must recognize that this go-with-the-gut sort of spirituality leaves one vulnerable to wellness messages that at best over-simplify suffering and at worst encourage us to explore solutions based in magical thinking.
Wellness modalities prey on our hopes. In the absence of other, more rigid forms of indoctrination, my laissez faire brand of spirituality is incomplete without guidance from external sources. The vacuum is readily filled with self-help books, online courses, retreats, specialized techniques, and consumer goods offered by charismatic personalities promising to bring me closer to that fully realized version of myself that is just another training, technique or online course away.
What’s the alternative, you ask? Should we just suffer blindly then? With chronic pain? Poor sleep? Troubling thoughts? An unfulfilling job? No. Surely not. We should seek solutions.
We should continue to grow, and better ourselves. We should find solace in counsel from folks with knowledge and experience to spare. But not because we believe we’re broken. Because we know and accept that we’re human.
We would do well to recognize that real solutions, life-changing solutions, don’t tend to be as quick and easy as the 4.2 billion dollar Wellness Industrial Complex (now larger than the pharmaceutical industry btw) would have us believe. Real solutions require shifts in knowledge, circumstances, and effort. These shifts take time, dedication, and self-reflection — -luxuries many of us don’t have.
The ‘why-me-what-did-I-do-wrong’ moment I grappled with during my bout of covid is an act of self aggression disguised as an act of self-reflection. The moment I answered that question with self-criticism I reinforced the idea within myself that something is fundamentally wrong with me. It’s not that I shouldn’t self-reflect or course correct. But I do better to orient from a place of compassion and self-love, rather than fear and judgement.
What if we approached our suffering as if we were already whole. What if we saw our suffering as part of a life that is already complete. Nothing less. But also nothing more. Our experience is just our experience. Plain and simple. And in every moment it is ever changing.
It’s unlikely we’ll find wellness in a class, a method, or by abstaining from or taking in a particular food. Wellness won’t come from prioritizing alkalinity, practicing yoga nidra, or sleeping next to a Himalayan salt lamp. Those things may benefit us, or they may not. But they won’t fix us because we cannot be fixed. We are already complete.
A good friend once explained, “Valerie, this is a heavy dimension.”
We find ourselves here, on earth, banging around, bumping into one another’s shortcomings and feeling embarrassed by our own. Generally we’re all trying to navigate as best we can. As much as we might like it to be otherwise, none of us come out unscathed. Perhaps it’s best to be patient. And forgiving.
I believe we would do well to shift our perspective just ever so slightly, away from ‘what did I do wrong’, and towards, ‘ahhhh, another opportunity to grow and another scar to show.’ Because as we were regularly reminded by our childhood prophet Mister Rogers “We’re perfect, just the way we are.”
For these reasons and others I will no longer overtly or implicitly support the wellness myth, either within myself or through my marketing, that we are broken.
A recovery mantra for the weeks ahead?
I’m not broken. I’m human. I suffer sometimes. And I am whole.