jumping on the ‘maxxing’ bandwagon, but in an anti- way with life-affirming wellness practices, which is actually just not worrying about 90% of things
SEP 14, 2026
A strange, humming beauty is the vast concrete labyrinth of an airport, where the light falls in long, pale shafts through the glass and the air smells faintly of jet fuel and distant cities. I am wandering the grey corridors toward the short-term parking bay. Then, a sharp, clear fracture in the terminal noise. “Vienda!” There is no sound more holy than your own name when you are lost in a sea of strangeness.
I turn toward the sound. There she stands by her car, a monument of familiar grace under the white Spanish sun. In the back, her young son is strapped into his seat, his small face watching the world with the solemn, wide-eyed patience of the very young. We fall into a hug—the easy, sun-warmed greeting of women, smelling of sea-salt and a breezy welcome. I hoist my heavy luggage into the back like labourers loading a harvest wagon, and then we are flying down the highway, looping away from Valencia, the citrus groves beginning to blur against the horizon.
When we reach the coast. A village folding in on itself for the season. It is the start of summer, and the Spanish locals—and a few quiet Germans—are closing their apartments until next summer. Up the long, eight-block flanks of the buildings, the heavy shutters are being drawn down like tired eyelids. The final, damp loads of laundry hang limp from every line, bright patches of cotton catching the salty breeze.
We surrender to the siesta almost immediately. My own body is mutinous; the full moon has left me in a restless, four-hour sleep, followed by the sharp blue light of a four-o’clock morning flight. We sleep heavily in our shaded rooms, sinking into a cool dreamless rest.
Hours later, the shadows lengthen; we make a late lunch. The shrimp hiss in the pan, and we fold them into warm tacos, eating with the fierce, unselfconscious hunger. Between mouthfuls, we lay out our time together. We both have work to do—the endless tasks of the modern female breadwinner—but beneath that, we share a desperate craving for carelessness. We look at each other across the table and wordlessly make a pact: we will break every commandment of the modern wellness bible.
And so, we do.
We drink claritas—the bitter beer sweetened with lemonade—and wine until the edges of the day soften. We smoke cigarettes; mostly her, and I, in a gesture of solidarity, roll a tiny, neat one and watch the blue smoke drift through my fingers. We eat haphazardly, when the belly demands it, ignoring the clock. We forget rituals of the mirror. We leave our faces unwashed, wear no makeup, and walk out onto the cobblestones in our pajamas, our bare feet slapping against the warm stone. We bake weed brownies, giggling like schoolgirls at the kitchen counter, and one day, we hike up the steep spine of the mountain, looking out over the glittering sea to make our demands on every god that is willing to listen.
This week in this tiny village south of Valencia gives me a nourishment that cannot be measured by teaspoons, counted in calories, or tracked on a screen. I feel the heavy, pulsating throb of life itself. The raw, ancient circulation of joy that only comes when you stop trying to manage the universe.
It occurs to me then, looking at the sea, that we have been sold a monstrous lie. We are bombarded by a relentless machinery of rules—WellnessMAXXXing, optimisation, the endless, agonising chore of biohacking our way into some flawless, synthetic perfection. We are told to worry about every breath, every micronutrient, every cortisol spike. But standing on that mountain, with unwashed skin and a belly full of cheap wine, I know that true wellness is not a metric. It is the willingness to let go of ninety per cent of the things we are told to care about, and to simply occupy the dirt and the sun we were born to inherit.
Here are some of my personally most life-affirming wellness practices:
- no ‘morning routine’. I get up and see what feels gooood! (though I love a tongue-scraping moment)(sometimes I don’t even make my bed)
- wearing things on repeat because I love them until I’m bored
- sighing, moaning and audibly expelling air in public bc it feels good
- sloooowing everything right down. the slower I go the more present I am
- decentering food. I believe food is medicine, but I feel it’s become such a form of obsession that I need it to take up much less of my mental real estate
- eating things on repeat because I love them until I’m bored
- still in the shower, shaking off a little and then massaging sweet almond oil or scented olive oil into my wet skin. so soft, so moistured
- going to bed earlier than I think I should and not waiting until I’m tired. I’ve noticed I sleep less and less well if I don’t
- releasing rigid daily movement goals. I actually just don’t need to maxxx myself out every day ~ it does so much more harm than good for me
- understanding what causes my stress and the ways I uncessarily stress myself out. i.e. by exercising too much, taking things personally, not approaching things lighheartedly and generally being hard on myself. when I am stressed my nervous system gets out of balance which creates a whole host of other problems
- figuring out my perfect invisible makeup routine: either Avène Hyrdance BB cream in Riche or L’Oréal Paris Lumi Glotion in shade medium ~ essence What a Tint! Lip & Cheek Tint on lips and cheeks ~ curl lashes ~ brush brows, et voila
- being outside as often as possible, preferably near trees or large bodies of water
- walking everywhere instead of using transport. it’s slower but I factor that into my commute and it serves as integrated exercise
- getting rid of underwear and clothes I don’t absolutely love. packing up and moving so often makes this easier, but it means I only wear my best clothes and underwear because that’s all I’ve got
- making a rule that my journal must be generative and not pensive or ruminative. sometimes, yes, I need to reflect on something to move through it but I cannot just get stuck there, it has to be used for forward traction. my journal is almost a manifestation tool in that I identify the beliefs, blocks and habits that keep me stuck and then map out plans to change or act differently and focus on a new perspective that moves me closer to being my ideal version of myself
I’ve shared mine, now I want to read your most life-affirming wellness practices!!!!