But Make It Actually Livable

So, what does health look like for me when I’m at my best?

It’s not about six-pack abs or whatever Instagram thinks it is. It’s not kale smoothies and 4 a.m. workouts unless that actually feels good—which, okay, sometimes it does.

But more often, health at my best feels like balance with a side of grace.

It’s waking up before the alarm, not because I have to, but because I’m actually rested.

That elusive, magical feeling where I slept enough and didn’t dream about failing a math test from 1992. My body doesn’t ache, my brain isn’t foggy, and I don’t have to negotiate with myself to get out of bed.

It’s just… easy.

It’s eating when I’m hungry, not because the clock says it’s lunchtime, and stopping when I’m full, not because I shouldn’t want more.

It’s drinking water like I actually like myself.

It’s movement that feels like play.

Dancing in the kitchen.

Stretching because it feels good, not because a screen tells me to “close the ring.”

Health at my best is when I can breathe. Breathe deeply into my belly. No tightness in my chest. No sense of “oh god, I forgot to reply to that email” buzzing in my nervous system.

It’s a quiet mind or at least a kind one.

It’s laughing more.

Crying when I need to without shame.

Asking for help without spiraling into guilt.

Having the energy to show up for the people I love and for myself.

It’s not being a superhero.

It’s knowing I don’t have to be one.

It’s choosing rest before I’m exhausted.

It’s noticing my body, my needs, my rhythms—and honoring them.

It’s not perfection – not even close.

It’s a dance, sometimes clumsy, sometimes graceful, but always, always coming back to the center.

That’s health for me at my best.

Not a finish line.

A feeling.

A flow.

A soft, steady yes.