Health Isn't Just a Phase - It's a Relationship

She runs toward the day she’s building, not the life she’s escaping

In 2013, my body forced me to stop and listen.

Up until then, health was simply part of who I was. I was a runner. I loved the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the way movement cleared my mind. I lifted weights, practiced yoga, and paid attention to what I put into my body. I understood that health mattered.

But like many people, my version of balance had loopholes.

I drank socially. I smoked cigarettes—not a pack-a-day habit and not a daily drinker—but weekends were different. I liked the social connection. I liked to unwind. I wasn’t reckless, but I also wasn’t fully aligned with the life I claimed to value.

Then I got sick.

For nearly two years, doctors couldn’t tell me what was wrong. Appointment after appointment. Test after test. No answers. Just pain—constant, exhausting, invisible pain. Along with it came depression, frustration, and anger. I cried. I prayed. I begged for relief. I questioned everything.

Eventually, I ended up at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.

That’s where I heard the words that still echo in my mind:

“If we can’t cure you, no one can.”

By the time those words were spoken, I was already worn down—physically, emotionally, spiritually. They felt final. Heavy. Hopeless.

So I did the only thing I felt I still had control over.

I chose myself.

I started running every single day. The weather didn’t matter. Snow, rain, heat—it didn’t matter. I cleaned up my diet. I stopped drinking. I quit smoking. I meditated. I focused on healing my body and my mind. I treated my health as something sacred, something delicate, because I knew one wrong move could make life harder than it already was.

And slowly… I got better.

I healed myself.

Once I felt well again, though, I slipped back into old patterns. I started drinking again. I picked up cigarettes again. Not because I wanted them—but because I wanted company. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to feel normal.

The truth is, I was never going to fit in. And deep down, I always knew that.

Fast forward to six years ago.

That’s when I stopped taking care of myself altogether. I stopped eating well. I drank on the weekends. I smoked again. I stopped working out. I ignored the very lessons that once saved my life.

Until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.

I quit smoking—cold turkey. If I drink now, it’s in moderation.

And I am relearning something I already knew but forgot:

Mental health alone is not enough.

We can journal, meditate, and talk through our emotions all day long—but if we don’t nourish our bodies with the right food and consistent movement, we are only doing half the work.

Our bodies are not machines. They are intelligent, sensitive systems. We should treat our bodies and minds as if they are delicate—because they are. One wrong move, one neglected habit, one prolonged imbalance can shift everything.

Health means staying alive in all angles of life—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

If this resonates with you—if you’ve fallen off, started over, or are standing at a crossroads wondering how you got here—know this:

You are not broken. You are not weak. And it is never too late to choose yourself again.

Health isn’t a phase. It’s a relationship—one we are allowed to repair as many times as it takes.

And this time, I’m choosing to stay alive in all angles of life.