I often find myself in deep conversations with colleagues about health, treatments, and the ever-evolving landscape of wellness. These discussions are rich, insightful, and often punctuated by a shared realization: “I wish we were recording this.” (And yes, the podcast will come someday!)
Recently, we were talking about cancer.
I was wrestling with a difficult question—the concept of doing everything “right.” Clean eating, regular exercise, managing stress, understanding genetics, prioritizing mindfulness, utilizing saunas, practicing breathwork… and yet, even those who dedicate themselves to health sometimes receive devastating diagnoses. Cancer. Stroke. Brain bleeds. The unthinkable.
What the heck?
The only absolute truth is this: All of our days are numbered. Not to be morbid, but that’s the reality of being human.
Thirteen years ago, as I walked alongside my mother through her journey with Alzheimer’s, I made a promise to myself: I would never let my body tip into that disease state.
For years, that promise consumed me. Prevention became my mission, but it was also riddled with fear. My thoughts were strict, rigid: Do this, don’t do that. The checklist of what I had to do to stay “healthy” became overwhelming.
I obsessed over what I couldn’t eat, berated myself for missed workouts, and felt guilt when I skipped a sauna session or a neurofeedback appointment. My mindset was rooted in avoidance—avoiding illness, avoiding aging, avoiding anything that might steer me away from the goal of perfect health.
And then, I asked myself a question I had been avoiding:
But have I been living?
So is it worth it? If even the healthiest among us can fall ill, should I just throw my hands up, eat cake, and lounge by the pool with a cocktail in hand? Honestly, that sounds quite lovely. And sometimes, I do just that. But I know too well how my body feels afterward—sluggish, heavy, unwell.
Somewhere along the way, my perspective shifted. Instead of telling myself, I should do this, I began to reframe it: I get to do this.
I get to fuel my body in a way that makes me feel good. I get to move my body because it gives me energy and strength. I get to make choices that allow me to be present for my children, my family, my purpose.
This wasn’t just about preventing Alzheimer’s anymore. As I took care of my body with intention, I saw how profoundly my daily life improved. The exhaustion, anxiety, depression, chronic pain, and relentless stress that I once thought were just “part of life” began to lift.
I had more patience. More joy. More clarity. I felt alive in ways I hadn’t before.
Yes, I want to delay—perhaps even prevent—Alzheimer’s. But just as important, if not more, is feeling good now. It’s about cultivating a healthy relationship with myself, my loved ones, my purpose. It’s about peace. It’s about love.
So, how do you feel day to day?
Are you able to enjoy your work, your relationships? Do you find peace and joy in the small moments? Does your body have the energy to carry you through the life you want to live?
What would you want to make better?
What do you want your future to look like?
All of our days are numbered. The poet Mary Oliver asked so simply and beautifully: Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
The choice is yours. Always.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver (American poet)