The Rooms We Grow In

Why environment shapes our health more than discipline ever could

For a long time, I believed that if I wanted to change my health, I simply needed to try harder.

If I wanted to eat differently, I needed more discipline.
If I wanted to drink less, I needed more self-control.
If I wanted to rest, I needed to be better at setting boundaries.

I approached everything through effort. That was the language I knew. Effort had worked for me in my career. It had worked in school. It had worked as a collegiate athlete. If I applied myself, I could usually move the needle.

So when my body began to struggle, I tried to treat it the same way.

What I did not understand at the time was how deeply my environment was shaping me.

Most of the rooms I spent time in were wired for performance. Long hours were respected. Stress was a badge of honor. Social drinking was woven into connection. Convenience food was normal because everyone was busy. There was a constant undercurrent of pushing forward.

None of this was malicious. It was simply the culture I was swimming in.

And when something is normal, you rarely pause to examine it.

As my health began to unravel, I started looking at everything differently. I had to. My body was no longer willing to carry the cost of the life I had built.

In those early recalibration months, I tried to make changes while standing in the exact same environments that had shaped my habits. I would decide to prioritize sleep, then stay up late on the weekends because, well it’s the weekend. I would commit to reducing stress, then schedule my days in a way that made that impossible. I would try to eat differently while surrounded by routines that revolved around speed and convenience.

It felt harder than it needed to be.

What slowly began to shift things for me was something much quieter.

I started seeking out more time with people who were thinking long-term about their health. Women who were talking about nervous system regulation, inflammation, digestion, and longevity in a grounded, practical way. Conversations where boundaries were respected and rest was understood. Spaces where ambition and health were not competing priorities.

There was something surprisingly relieving about those rooms.

I did not feel the need to explain myself. I did not feel dramatic for caring about my body. The version of me I was becoming felt ordinary there.

That experience changed how I think about behavior change entirely.

Over the years, I have seen this pattern repeated in other women in my orbit. They are capable and intelligent. Many of them have built impressive careers. On paper, their lives are functioning well. Yet their bodies feel strained. Inflamed. Tired in a way that rest alone does not fix.

They often assume the issue is discipline. They think they need a better plan or more structure.

But the reality is that many of them are attempting to evolve inside environments that were built for an earlier version of themselves. The habits in those rooms make sense for who they were five or ten years ago or maybe just a month ago. Their goals have shifted. Their capacity has shifted. Their bodies have shifted. The rooms have not.

Growth moves more easily when it has proximity.

When you spend time with people who share your direction, decisions begin to feel less isolating. You expend less energy defending your choices. Your nervous system spends less time bracing.

There is a subtle but powerful difference between trying to change alone and changing while feeling supported.

This does not require dramatic life overhauls. It is rarely about dismantling everything you have built. For me, it was just about expanding my ecosystem.

I added rooms.

Some of those rooms were structured, like coaching and professional guidance. Some were informal, like friendships with women who valued similar rhythms. Some were educational spaces where I could learn about how the body actually heals and regulates.

Those additions created steadiness.

Belonging has a way of accelerating change because it reduces internal friction. When your body does not feel scrutinized, it does not tense against your own evolution. It can settle into it.

This perspective is one of the reasons I created The Whole Life Health Audit™. When I walk women through it, we examine more than food or exercise. We look at the environments they inhabit every day. The expectations in those spaces. The pace. The conversations. The rhythms.

Sometimes what feels like a personal failure is simply a misalignment between who you are becoming and the rooms you are standing in.

Clarity often begins there.

You do not have to convince anyone of your evolution. You do not have to defend every choice. Sometimes the most strategic and compassionate move is to place yourself in spaces that reflect the direction you are already moving.

That was true in my own life.

And it continues to be true for the women who quietly realize that something needs to shift, even if everything looks fine from the outside.

Change becomes steadier when it feels supported.

Sometimes the difference is not more effort.

Sometimes it is just proximity.