Protein Shakes and Genocides: Exploring the jarring absurdity of modern self-optimization in a world that is actually burning.

There is a creeping, sanitised quality to the way we are expected to exist today. We are living in an era where every messy human emotion is expected to be neatly categorised, dissected, and neutralised. We are told that our wildness is a symptom to be managed, that our grief is a puzzle to be solved on a clinical couch, and that our rage is simply a sign that we haven’t done enough breathwork.

But what if the goal isn’t to be a perfectly serene, constantly optimised machine?

The truth is, I find myself entirely too feral for the sterile confines of modern interactions. We have been sold a version of “health” that looks suspiciously like emotional death. We are encouraged to micromanage our physical vessels – tracking every macro, measuring every sleep cycle, and obsessing over our nervous system states – while the world around us burns. There is a profound, sickening dissonance in witnessing global atrocities on our screens, only to pivot seamlessly to worrying about whether our cortisol levels are too high or if we remembered to book our next coaching session.

This relentless inward gaze doesn’t make us enlightened; it makes us fragile. It turns us into incredibly dull beings who shatter at the slightest hint of friction. We are losing the capacity to hold space for genuine discomfort because we are too busy trying to biohack our way out of it.

Not every ache requires a diagnosis, and not every breakdown is a problem to be fixed by a professional. Sometimes, the body doesn’t need another verbal processing session. Sometimes, the body demands a visceral, unapologetic release.

It might look like letting out a sound so loud it shatters the quiet, even if the noise makes your own skin crawl. It might look like seeking oblivion for a few hours, moving your body with reckless abandon until you collapse, or consuming something purely for the decadent joy of it, completely divorced from its nutritional value. There are moments when the only thing that makes sense is the grounding shock of a physical impact, or being held with a grip so fierce it feels like it might break you open.

Yet, the moment we display anything other than mild-mannered compliance, the wellness police arrive with their clipboards. Any reaction that disrupts the peace, any refusal to be sweet and accommodating, is instantly pathologised. We are essentially being emotionally battered by the demands of modern life, but if we dare to react with anything other than a serene smile and a regulated tone, we are branded as unstable, hysterical, or “too much.”

It is a form of collective gaslighting. We are told to heal, but only if our healing is quiet. We are told to feel, but only if our feelings don’t inconvenience anyone else.

This is the antithesis of true somatic connection. Embodiment isn’t about becoming a perfectly smooth, unbothered surface. It is about allowing the full, chaotic spectrum of your humanity to exist. It is about refusing to let the wellness industry sanitise your soul. This is the space I hold for the women I work with. 

So, here is to the women who refuse to shrink. Here is to the ones who are too loud, too deep, and too intensely alive for a world that just wants them to be quiet and count their protein. I see you.