Drama, Surprises, and Setbacks on the Road to Wellness
The path to better health and wellness isn’t always smooth. For many, their journey is filled with unexpected challenges, dramatic failures, and surprising setbacks. These stories highlight the struggles people face when trying to improve their physical or mental well-being, showing that not every attempt at a healthier lifestyle leads to instant success.
Whether it’s a failed fitness routine, an extreme diet that didn’t work out, or a wellness trend gone wrong, many of these health and wellness stories involve frustration, disappointment, and even humorous mishaps. From injuries caused by overambitious exercise programs to emotional burnout from trying to follow unrealistic wellness goals, these tales reflect the drama that can unfold when our best-laid plans don’t go as expected.
Some stories also touch on the darker side of health and wellness, where individuals felt misled by fad diets, ineffective treatments, or expensive wellness regimes that didn’t deliver on their promises. These experiences serve as cautionary tales, reminding us that the pursuit of wellness is often a bumpy road.
If you’re looking for health and wellness stories with a twist, these dramatic, surprising, and sometimes humorous accounts of failure and frustration offer valuable lessons in what it really means to pursue a healthier life.
I'm kinda supposed to be practicing for Solo and Ensemble right now. But I can't. I just can't. I don't know why. I don't want to, or can't, do anything. I'm not that good at my solo, and the event is tomorrow, but I don't really care. I don't care if I go up there and get the lowest rating, a 0 out of 30. Honestly? I don't even want to be on this earth anymore.
So we have been on a roller coaster with my epilepsy. But as a separate issue, I also struggle with incontinence at night. I haven't told anyone this because I know it's due to my autism and my body being so relaxed at night that I don't get the proper cues that I need to go. Well my mom finally found out when doing the washing, but now she thinks it's linked to my epilepsy, which means it will be brought up at every appointment. Even though that's not true. I've tried to tell her I didn't pee myself during a seizure, but she doesn't believe me and now she's going to expect that for every seizure.
I feel like today was a day of hell. Everything was so disorganized. I felt like I was skipping work since I only showed up two out of three days this week. I don't want to show up on other days, but I feel a very uncomfortable level of responsibility, especially when it comes to birthday celebrations and other things. I don't want to attend celebrations; I'm there to do a great job, not to integrate in such a friendly way. I like my solitude.
I feel like I regained my solitude today. I don't know, I felt like I was getting my life back after a long time. I don't like the country I live in; there are difficulties and so on, but I feel like everything is bearable. I had to manage the psychiatrist in detail; she was influenced by my father, as I thought. She took it seriously, thank goodness, that I didn't stop the treatment; I feel good because she's attentive and also, she admits, the effect of my routine on the healing of the issue. I feel very valued by the psychiatrist, but it's difficult for her; nevertheless, we're on the journey together. It's not the best I ever hoped for.
For some reason, I feel like I've returned to normal because I feel like I can tolerate the world as it is, imperfect from my perspective and like everyone else's. I feel like I can tolerate everything now, and I'm happy about it. I was also happy to see my stepmother and her father. I don't know, all in all, I had a normal day and I was able to tolerate it well; I didn't expect that. Maybe it's because I was also able to get away from the psychiatrist and her influence. Seeing that we were able to handle ourselves, I feel like everything is fine now. It was always my life's goal to be able to manage with a psychologist, or a psychiatrist. I felt welcomed back into the world, into society itself.
I have to confess, out of all this adventure I went through, I feel like I finally got what I wanted. To be able to deal with a therapist, to work as a team in some way, not just one person on one side and me on the other. That's why, I confess, my dental treatment didn't work, in any way, that was it. Since I left my therapist, I felt like the world had turned its back on me because there was no way out of my environment; that's how I understood it. Feeling like I've finally entered, entered the world, is simply fantastic, sensational. I feel like I can walk the streets again completely normally, tolerate the day, write many things, many ideas, but always with the feeling that my efforts in mental health, if they're welcomed by anyone, well, actually by everyone now, but mainly by those who consist of the mental health aspect. That support, that verification, makes me feel like I'm on the right track, or at least, seen by someone beyond myself, and I like that, I have to confess.
I have to confess it. I feel like that was the cure for my entire illness. Just that. I feel like I'm finally believed, taken seriously, that I see beyond, that I can handle the treatment. That I can finally handle treatment, that I'm taken into account within it, that I, as a patient, deserve respect for myself and my processes—I finally achieved that. I have to confess: The only cure was having someone check on me with my mental health, working as a team. That was it. I can't do that with anyone in my circle, because no one takes care of their mental health, that's the pure truth. So, it's feeling an immense burden.
I feel that the cure, moreover, was always returning to a mental health professional, but one that truly exists. That they don't abandon you, that they're not a scam, that they don't leave you stranded, that they don't act on behalf of others but on behalf of you, that there is a therapy given for me, given by another, that you can be supported by another. Not help, I didn't want help, support, support to keep me going. That was all I needed to get back to life, to go back to my life as before. That was it. Not someone coming and doing my job. The fact that I can't do it, that was the worst part. That's why dental treatment became pure hell for me. I understand everything now.
How difficult was this for those around me? A little support, so I could do my thing my way, without changing my routine unless it was for support. This, I insist, and I think it sums it all up, was the cure. A feeling that my life could be accepted by others based on my well-being and not theirs, and even so, it produces well-being for them, perhaps not giving them what they want, but by setting an example of being in context and not unconsciously destroying a world in unrecognizable ways. How difficult was it for everyone to see that? It was too simple. How hard was it to find a psychiatrist? Too hard. In the end, he was the only savior of everything because he was the only one around me who could do that. Does that make sense? That he's the only one? The problem with the psychiatrist is that everyone had the blessed humility to say they didn't know how to treat me. But was there any? Barely one and a half people, although my mental health was pushed aside during treatment. How difficult was it for others to see that? Honestly, the dental treatment was the least of my worries, from every point of view. Rightfully so, and I understand wholeheartedly, I ended up exploding at everyone.
Ironically, right now, the psychiatrist is the one putting the pieces together. She barely does six minutes of treatment, and she does so much more than the others. In addition to one person, whose example lifts heaven and earth and changes my life. From the smallest details, I categorically say, these people saved my life. In the dental service too, listening to me for a while, playing for a while, caring for me, being present, making the effort. That also did something very meaningful for me, and I'm not going to just give up. I can't do it. Also, damn, another doctor who supported me with the psychological aspect took it seriously, and in a way that I didn't get carried away with illusions. That one also deserves my award. These people, who did something, because those who operated didn't do a thing, except move some teeth with sophisticated and useless methods because they didn't attack anything, I can't let them be left aside in any way.
I'm currently running on two hours of sleep, and not per night. Literally I have gotten two hours of sleep in the past like four days.
I don't know why. I'm really freaking tired. But no matter what, I just can't sleep.
I can hardly keep my eyes open in class, but I can't go to sleep either; believe me, I've tried.
I just don't know what to do because I'm afraid that if i tell my parents or my doctor, they'll dismiss it as the sleep problems I've had since forever and yes it's probably those sleep problems and if it is they've gotten a LOT worse.
How do I get help when all the doctors/ nurses and that don’t help or understand me and what I feel and need for myself my mental health and it’s driving me mad and my anxiety and depression is driving me mad
I’m 14 and my dad pays a lot of money for my counsellor after he realised I was cutting myself last year (I mostly let him know as I’d been doing it a while without him noticing). I feel really guilty because I’ve been seeing her for a while and I still feel the same, which is a constant sick, sad kind of feeing, and I plan to die as soon as I’ve moved away. I felt so guilty that I’ve been lying to her and my dad about feeling better, and now it’s gotten too a point where I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to confess that I’m still feeling this way. How do I tell my counsellor that I still feel bad? I don’t know if this website is appropriate for this but I don’t have any real people who I can ask right now and I feel the urge to cut.
sometimes i just sit there, staring at the wall or my phone or whatever, and feel completely stuck. like there's a million things i could do, maybe even should do, but i got no idea where to even start. it's not even about bein lazy, it's more like bein frozen. like my brain is just goin in circles, thinkin about every bad thing that could happen, every wrong move i could make. nd then it feels easier to just do nothin at all. ppl always say "just pick something" but they dont get it. it aint that easy. when you dont know what to do, even the small things feel like they weight a ton. i try makin lists, i try talkin to friends, sometimes i even flip a coin to decide, but still, most of the time i just feel stuck, like my feet are glued to the floor.
there’s this pressure too, like, if i make the wrong move, its all gonna fall apart. nd that makes it even harder. sometimes it aint even about big life stuff, like careers or school or whatever. sometimes it's dumb little stuff, like what to text someone back, or whether i should go out or stay home. nd the longer i sit there not doin anything, the worse i feel. it's like the weight builds up nd starts crushin me from the inside. ppl say "trust ur gut" but what if ur gut just feels like static, like a radio that cant find a station?? sometimes i wish someone would just grab me by the shoulders and say "do this!" and then i'd at least have a path. but life dont work that way. so i sit here, stuck between every choice, wishin the answers would just fall outta the sky.
one thing i been tryin lately is just movin, even a little. like if i dont kno what big thing to do, maybe i can at least wash the dishes. or walk around the block. or clean my room. nd sometimes, not always but sometimes, doing something small makes the big stuff feel a little less scary. like, okay, maybe i dont kno what to do with my whole life but at least i kno how to fold my laundry. it sounds dumb but it helps a lil. other times, i just gotta let myself sit in the confusion without makin it worse by beatin myself up. it sucks feelin stuck, but maybe sometimes that’s part of it. maybe not knowin is just part of bein human. i dunno. i'm still tryin to figure it out like everyone else.
ive always been different. even when i was little i noticed it. i had meltdowns at school and sometimes i would run out of the classroom. everything got too loud and too confusing. kids stayed away from me. some were scared. i got bullied a lot. it made me think something was wrong with me.
i wanted friends. i wanted to be like everyone else. but i didnt know how. it felt like i missed out on learning something everyone else just knew. my parents tried to help. they got me on meds and into therapy. it didnt fix how alone i felt. it just made me feel guilty for being a problem.
growing up i barely had any friends. most of the time i was by myself. even in high school, when it seemed like everyone had groups and plans and people to count on, i had maybe two or three people i could really trust. and even then i was scared. i felt like if they ever knew the real me, they might leave too. and if they did, i would have no one.
im bi but i dont tell people. its not because im ashamed. its because im terrified of losing the little bit of connection i have. i know if i tell the wrong person, i could lose the only friends i trust. and if that happens, thats it. im alone again. completely. and i dont know if i can handle that. id rather hide it and keep something than be honest and lose everything.
the only thing that worked for me was baseball. when i played, i wasnt different. i was just part of a team. ive played since i was a kid. no vacations, no parties, no normal stuff. just baseball.
for a while that was enough.
now i know im probably not going to make it. im not getting drafted. im not going to play pro. and i dont know what to do without it. it was never just a game to me. it was my whole life.
now im studying accounting. im good at numbers, maybe because of my autism. people say its a smart choice. they say it will get me a good job. but i dont like it. its just surviving. working and paying bills and doing it all again the next day. i hate it. i hate that dreams dont matter unless they make money.
i thought about coaching but it doesnt pay enough. so i have to give that up too.
i feel stuck most days. like i missed too much already and now im building a life that wont make me happy. people told me i was going to do great things. and now if im not the best at something, i feel like im nothing.
i dont talk about this much. i dont want to make it anyone elses problem. i dont want to just survive. i want to actually live.
ok so I think my sleeping problems might be getting worse
I've always, and I mean ALWAYS had trouble falling asleep at night.
But now, that problem has multiplied tenfold, and now I'm finding it hard to stay asleep if I manage to fall asleep, and then once I'm up, I'm up, there's no hope of going back to sleep.
Normally I'd ignore it and think it was normal, because trouble with sleep just is for me.
But it used to be that I'd go to bed at, like, 8:30 PM (EST) and fall asleep at like half past 10 PM (EST), but now it's I go to bed at 8:30, fall asleep at, like 1:00, wake back up at like 2:30 and am awake for the rest of the night.
Literally I can hardly focus as I'm typing this, autocorrect has been my best friend lol
but Im worried how it'll affect me in school, because I've never lost this much sleep over the span of three days.
its also affecting me getting to school in the morning, I've been more at risk of missing the bus lately because I just cant get out of bed. I try with my outfits in the morning, even when I'm tired, but tody I'm so freaking tired my outfit it a hoodie and leggings, and the leggings have a hole in the leg.
and on top of all this, I didn't see my best friend this morning and now i'm worried.
It’s the weirdest thing, waking up from a dream that felt more vivid than real life. Like, for a few seconds, you don’t even know where you are. Your brain’s stuck in that space between dream and reality, and everything around you just feels… off. That happened to me last night, actually. I had this dream that I was back in my old house, the one we lived in when I was little. The walls were the same faded green, the stairs still creaked on the third step, and my childhood dog, Max—who passed away years ago—was there, wagging his tail like he never left. I could smell the popcorn my mom used to make on Sundays, feel the soft carpet under my feet. Everything was so clear. And when I woke up, I felt this ache in my chest. Like I'd just been yanked out of a better version of reality, one where things made sense, where the past still existed in full color.
And it’s not just the places. Sometimes, it’s the people. You see someone you haven’t thought about in years—an old friend, a grandparent who passed, or even someone you’ve never met—and they talk to you like you’ve known each other forever. They touch your hand, look into your eyes, laugh with you. And in that moment, it feels real. Not just visually, but emotionally. It’s like your brain recreates every tiny detail, every feeling, every piece of memory, and weaves it into this beautiful (or sometimes terrifying) story while you're asleep. I’ve had dreams that were better than reality, dreams that gave me closure, and dreams that left me shaken for the rest of the day. How does the mind do that? How does it trick us into feeling something so strong that it lingers hours—even days—after we wake up?
I’ve read somewhere that dreams are just the brain’s way of processing things, like emotions we haven’t dealt with or thoughts we’re trying to push away. That kinda makes sense. I’ve had dreams about people I haven’t talked to in ages, and the next day, I’m thinking about them non-stop. Or I’ll have a super emotional dream, and when I wake up, I’ll actually be mad or sad about what happened, even tho it didn’t actually happen. One time, I dreamt my best friend betrayed me and I couldn’t even look her in the eye the next day. Of course I got over it (lol), but still, for a while I had to remind myself, “Hey, that wasn’t real.” And that’s what’s so crazy about dreams—they can influence your mood, your thoughts, sometimes even your decisions. Like your mind’s still stuck in that made-up world and hasn’t caught up with reality yet.
I guess part of why dreams feel so real is cuz when we’re dreaming, we’re not questioning anything. Our brains just go with it. You could be flying, or talking to a giant talking cat, or seeing someone who passed away, and none of it seems weird in the moment. You’re just there, experiencing it like it’s normal. It’s only when you wake up that you’re like, “Wait, what?” But when you’re in it, it’s your world. Your brain fills in all the blanks—how things smell, how people sound, how you feel—and you believe it. It’s wild how powerful the mind can be. I still don’t fully understand it, and I probably never will. But I do know this—sometimes, those dreams, the ones that feel so painfully real, can remind us of what we miss, what we love, what we’re afraid of, and even who we want to be. And maybe that’s why they stick with us. Maybe that’s why they feel so real. Because somewhere, deep down, a part of us wants them to be.
i used to think happiness was like… some reward u get after everything in ur life goes right. like u graduate, u get a good job, everyone loves u, and then bam happiness shows up like “congrats, u made it.” but that’s not how it works, not really. i learned that the hard way. last year was probly the worst year of my life. my parents were fighting nonstop, i failed two classes, and my best friend stopped talkin to me outta nowhere. it felt like everything was crashing down at once, and there was nothin i could do but watch it all fall apart. i cried so much. like real sobbing until my chest hurt. there were days i didn’t wanna get outta bed, where i felt like nobody would notice if i just disappeared.
but then weirdly, in the middle of all that mess, little things started hittin different. like one time i was sittin outside by myself feelin like crap, and this cat just walked up to me and sat on my lap like it knew i needed somethin soft and warm. i know that sounds dumb but i swear that moment made me feel a tiny bit okay. then a week later my younger brother made me a sandwich “just cuz you looked sad” and didn’t even ask for anything in return. and i dunno, stuff like that kept happenin. not big, movie-type moments or whatever, just small stuff. but when ur in a dark place, even a lil light can feel huge. and i started to realize maybe happiness isn’t this big magical thing u wait for, maybe it’s hidden in the cracks, in the quiet moments we usually ignore.
it didn’t fix everything, obviously. my parents still argue sometimes, i still stress about school, and i still don’t really know what i’m doin with my life. but now when things go wrong, i don’t feel like it’s the end anymore. i try to look for those tiny pieces of good, the ones that used to feel invisible to me. like when my friend texted me a meme after we hadn’t talked in months, or when a teacher said they liked my essay even though i thought it sucked. stuff like that used to slide right past me, but now i hold onto it. i collect it like proof that even in the middle of all the dark, happiness can still show up. it’s not always loud, but it’s there if you look for it.
so yeah, if you’re goin through it right now, if it feels like everything is fallin apart and ur stuck in this fog that won’t lift—i get it. i really do. but please just keep goin. even if all u do today is shower or eat somethin or smile once, that’s enough. you’re still movin forward. and eventually, the dark won’t feel so heavy. eventually, the lil things will start to glow again. and one day, maybe when u least expect it, happiness will find its way back to you—not because everything’s perfect, but because you kept going anyway. and that’s real strength. that’s real light.
Just give me a reason not to overdose on the iron supplements in the cabinet at my house.
I'm not ok, I think. I haven't slept in three days, haven't eaten a thing today except for some Smarties and don't plan to eat anything else. I just feel like I'm sinking in the deep end. All my friends are changing and I'm left behind, the same as I've always been, wondering where everyone else went. I just need to grow up, people tell me that all the time, sometimes to be reassuring and sometimes to be insulting, but I can't, I don't change even when everyone else does. I'll always be me, the one who hides everything inside and only shows people what they want, but yet I'm still hated and ridiculed because I did something wrong, because I refused someone's help, because I forgot to be who they wanted me to be. I just wish I could show them the person inside, with no fear that they'd hate me more than they do. Everyone around me only tolerates me, and barely at that. Maybe I'm being a drama queen, people often say that I am, but I'm just so sick and tired of being misunderstood. They see me as an attention seeker when I try to hint at the fact that maybe I need more help than I'm letting on. Everyone's tired of my crap. I constantly give people issues, I start fights, I don't deserve to be here. People would be better off without me. Don't worry, I have something to remind me that death is never the only way out of things. But that reminder hasn't been working as well lately. Nobody really even likes me. I'm a hypocrite, and idiot, a weirdo, and nuisance, a burden on this world. I'm hanging on but barely. I keep stumbling through the tunnel but the light is getting dimmer. The clouds are coming back. The sun is gone. I am unlovable and unloved. No one wants to even try with me anymore. And it's not like I can tell anyone this. They'd never understand.
There's no room for me to breathe. I'm underwater, sinking in the ocean that I am afraid of. The ocean is made of despair, of sadness, of everything I can't control and every part of me that's broken.
I'm drowning.
And nobody cares enough to save me.
ok I've never vented here before so I have no idea how this works
recently(aka for the last 2 months) I've been feeling extremely just...unwell. both mentally and physically. think that one scene from tpot 17 where two's lying on their bed with trash all around them and they haven't moved in months. that's how I'm feeling right now. I've become more chronically sick, and when I go without my medication I have a constant feeling of the verge of passing out. this has gotten in the way of so many of my relationships and at this point I don't know what to do anymore.