17/10/2026
I’m not anti-biohacking, I’m anti pretending that health advice coming from extraordinarily resourced people, often with access to endless testing, technology, money and time, is somehow a universal blueprint for everyone else.
If you understand health properly, you understand that health has context, because neurodivergence, trauma, money, work, caring responsibilities, relationships, capacity and q***r lived experience all affect what is realistic, useful and appropriate for the person actually receiving that advice.
One of the problems with modern wellness is that we’ve become very good at consuming protocols without asking enough questions about who is giving them, what their actual credibility is, what kind of life those recommendations were built around, and whether any of it makes sense in the context of our own lives.
If you’ve got three kids, you’re working shifts, you’re processing trauma and you’ve barely got enough capacity to get through the week, there is absolutely no point feeling like you’re failing at health because some Silicon Valley biohacker thinks you should be tracking twelve biomarkers, taking fifteen supplements and reorganising your entire day around optimisation.
Some of that advice might be useful, some of it might be completely irrelevant to you, but one of the best things you can do for your health is learn to question the advice itself rather than automatically assuming you’re the problem when you can’t follow it.
That’s really the thread running through all of my work, because wellness needs far more understanding of the actual human being trying to get well.