I have become exactly the sort of person I used to laugh at. My aspirational day now looks something like this:
I wake up early. Naturally, of course. Not to an alarm like some stressed Victorian factory worker, but gracefully, in alignment with my circadian rhythm.
Before speaking to another human being, I drink H2O- sorry, water - infused with Baha Gold salt and a slice of lemon so I can replenish my electrolytes.
Then I go outside immediately to get sunlight into my eyeballs and awaken my suprachiasmatic nucleus before the dangerous modern scourge of overhead lighting has a chance to interfere with my hormones.
Ideally, I expose my bare feet to the earth while doing this so I can absorb electrons from the soil and become grounded - essentially turning myself into an organic phone charger.
Then I do yoga, breathwork and meditation to regulate my nervous system before the day begins trying to dysregulate it again.
I avoid eating because apparently the key to health now involves spending most of your life not eating. I’m aiming for ketosis, autophagy, longevity, reduced inflammation and possibly enlightenment.
During the day I should ideally:
walk 10,000 steps
strength train for muscle preservation
consume enough protein to maintain lean mass
take vitamin D3, magnesium, omega 3, creatine, collagen and approximately seventeen other things that come in brown glass jars
avoid ultra-processed food
drink enough water
avoid stress
somehow not become stressed by trying to avoid stress
My meals should contain organic pesticide-free ingredients, preferably locally sourced, seasonal and lovingly harvested by a small cheerful farmer named Luca.
The portions should be no bigger than my fist because I’m trying to practise the Japanese principle of hara hachi bu - eating until you’re 80% full. Which sounds deeply wise until I realise I can eat a family-sized bag of cashews while preparing the tiny virtuous meal.
At night, after a fulfilling day where I have contributed meaningfully to society and fulfilled my deeper purpose, I gently dim the lights to protect my melatonin production.
I avoid blue light, overstimulation and late-night cortisol spikes. Then I place my mouth tape on like Hannibal Lecter, write in my gratitude journal and drift peacefully into eight hours of restorative sleep.
Conversely, I’ve also had periods of living like an absolute raccoon: waking up hungover to the sound of a squawking phone alarm before inhaling a McDonald’s breakfast, panic-scrolling Instagram while Netflix asks if I’m still watching and a family-sized tube of Pringles rolls off my chest.
But the truth is, I’m actually much closer to the first description than the second. And somehow… I still feel like I’m failing at health.
When I forget my electrolytes in the morning, it doesn’t feel like I simply forgot to drink salty lemon water. It feels like I’ve neglected my wellbeing. I walk the dogs every day, but a walk apparently no longer counts unless my heart rate enters Zone 2 and my watch congratulates me afterwards.
I eat homemade food, but it’s not organic, plant-based and sustainably sourced from a regenerative farm in the Alps, so apparently, I’m still circling nutritional ruin.
I don’t drink alcohol anymore.
I don’t drink caffeine.
I eat dark organic chocolate.
Unfortunately, I eat the dark organic chocolate like a labrador left unattended at a birthday party. So, everything is almost right. But also slightly unhinged.
I oscillate constantly between:
“An orange is an orange.”
and:
“Do modern oranges contain only 3% of the nutrients they had in 1974 because the soil is depleted and we’re all slowly becoming vitamin-deficient husks while smiling politely in activewear?”
And honestly? I’m tired, because optimisation is a full-time job. Not only do I have to do the protocols… I also have to research whether the protocols themselves are nonsense.
Every week someone tells me there’s a new study:
Coffee saves your life.
Coffee destroys your nervous system.
Fasting is healing.
Fasting destroys female hormones.
Running is longevity.
Running destroys your knees.
Oat milk is healthy.
Oat milk is basically wallpaper paste.
And the more I look into any of it, the more of it I’m shown. I listen to one podcast about protein and suddenly everyone on my phone is worried about losing muscle. I look up whether I need magnesium and by lunchtime I’m apparently deficient in six things I’d never even heard of. Each expert sounds convincing until the next expert appears.
At this point I don’t know whether I need magnesium or a lie down. And underneath all of this- the supplements, the routines, the tracking, the podcasts, the cold plunges, the step counts and sleep scores - I think there’s something else going on.
Have we quietly started treating health as proof that we’re doing life correctly? As though if we optimise hard enough, supplement correctly enough, track carefully enough and avoid enough toxins, we might finally outrun uncertainty itself.
To be fair, some of this comes from a genuine instinct that modern life isn’t always particularly human-friendly. We move less, sleep worse, stare at screens more and spend much of life overstimulated. So perhaps it’s not surprising that people are trying to claw their way back towards something more natural. But bodies were never designed to become full-time improvement projects.
At some point wellness stopped being about feeling alive…and started feeling like trying to keep a very high-maintenance Tamagotchi alive. Except the Tamagotchi is yourself. I sometimes wonder whether optimisation has become a modern form of superstition.
If I sleep properly, eat properly, supplement properly, breathe properly and regulate my nervous system properly… maybe nothing bad will happen to me.
Maybe I won’t age.
Maybe I won’t get ill.
Maybe I won’t feel sad.
Maybe I won’t lose people.
But human bodies have never offered that bargain. You can do everything “right” and still feel tired sometimes. Still get ill, feel anxious or wake up at 3am wondering what you’re doing with your life while eating organic almond butter from the jar.
No supplement stack was ever going to fix that.
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Photo by Quentin Bounias on Unsplash
