Nobody Told Me Wellness Was Supposed to Be Fun

I have a confession.

I have never once finished a workout and thought: that was the highlight of my day.

I have, however, finished a rollerskating session with friends and laughed so hard I could barely breathe. I have played tennis on a warm summer evening and felt so completely, utterly present that I forgot everything — every worry, every to-do, every thought that had been circling my mind all week — for a full, glorious hour. I have come home from a spa day feeling like an entirely different human being. Softer. Slower. More like myself.

That is wellness to me.

Not the punishing kind. Not the kind that requires a very specific outfit and a subscription and a motivational podcast telling you to be your best self. The kind that happens naturally, joyfully, when you are doing something that makes you feel genuinely, completely alive.

I think we have been sold a very strange idea about what taking care of ourselves is supposed to look like.

Somewhere between the fitness industry and the wellness industry and the diet industry and the self-improvement industry, the message became: taking care of yourself should be hard. It should require discipline and sacrifice and a certain amount of suffering. If it feels easy — if it feels fun — it probably doesn't count.

I have decided, at this particular age and with this particular collection of life experiences, that this is complete nonsense.

Fun counts. Joy counts. Laughter counts. The afternoon on the beach that turns your cheeks pink and fills your lungs with salt air and reminds you that your body is not just something to be managed and maintained but something to be lived in joyfully — that counts more than almost anything.

This summer I got back on rollerskates for the first time in about thirty-five years.

I will not tell you I was elegant. I will not tell you it was graceful or smooth or in any way Instagram-worthy in the curated sense of the word. What I will tell you is that within approximately four minutes I was laughing — properly laughing, the kind that comes from your stomach — and that by the end of the afternoon I felt about fifteen years old in the best possible way.

Nobody was watching me burn calories. Nobody was tracking my heart rate. I was just — playing. Like a child. Like someone who had temporarily forgotten that she was a grown woman with responsibilities and albums to record and a website to build.

That afternoon did more for my wellbeing than a month of dutiful exercise ever has.

Welcome to my Wellness Room. You won't find a single set of burpees in here.

What you will find is an invitation to remember that your body was made for joy — and that joy, it turns out, is the very best medicine.

@shestartsat50 There is always room for you here. 🌸