I use the word "holistic" a lot. And every time I do, I can almost feel a certain percentage of people mentally file me under "probably sells crystals on Etsy." Which is fair, because the word has been through a lot.
It's been co-opted by people trying to sell you supplements you don't need. It's been used to dismiss real medicine. It's been wrapped in so much incense smoke that the actual meaning has gotten lost somewhere in the haze.
So let me tell you what I mean when I say it, and, just as importantly, what I don't.
Holistic just means "whole"
That's it. The word comes from the Greek "holos," meaning whole or entire. When I say holistic, I mean looking at the whole picture instead of just one piece.
If you're exhausted all the time, a holistic approach doesn't just ask "what's wrong with your body?" It also asks: How are you sleeping? What are you eating? Are you moving? How's your stress? Do you have people around you who make you feel safe? When's the last time you did something just because it felt good?
It's not about replacing medicine with meditation. It's about recognizing that your body, your mind, your relationships, your habits, and your environment are all connected, and that ignoring any one of them means you're working with an incomplete picture.
Holistic isn't anti-science. It's pro-whole-picture. It's the difference between asking "what's the symptom?" and asking "what's the story?"
What holistic living actually looks like (it's boring in the best way)
I think people expect holistic living to be exotic. Moon rituals and cacao ceremonies and sound baths at sunrise. And look, I love a sound bath. But the actual day-to-day of living holistically is much more ordinary than that.
It's drinking enough water. Going to bed at a reasonable hour. Eating food that makes you feel good, not just food that's convenient. Moving your body in ways that aren't punishment. Spending time with people who don't drain you. Saying no when you need to. Asking for help when you need that too.
It's common sense wrapped in a fancy word.
The reason it feels radical is because modern life has normalized the opposite. We've normalized sleeping five hours, eating at our desks, exercising out of guilt, and calling burnout "hustle." Against that backdrop, taking care of the whole of yourself does feel countercultural. But it shouldn't.
The pieces that make the whole
When I think about holistic wellbeing, I think about it in layers. Not because you need to optimize all of them at once (that would be exhausting and slightly ironic), but because knowing what the layers are helps you figure out which one needs attention right now.
The layers
- Body: Sleep, nutrition, movement, rest. The basics that everything else is built on. Not perfect, just adequate and kind.
- Mind: Your thought patterns, your inner dialogue, how you process stress. This is where mindfulness, self-talk, and therapy live.
- Connection: Relationships that feel safe. Community. Being seen and known. Humans aren't designed to do this alone.
- Rest: Real rest, not just sleep. Play. Boredom. Doing nothing without guilt. Rest is productive even when it doesn't look like it.
- Movement: Not exercise as punishment. Movement as expression. Walking, dancing, stretching, swimming. Whatever makes your body feel alive instead of punished.
- Nourishment: What you eat, yes, but also what you consume: media, conversations, environments. All of it feeds you or depletes you.
- Purpose: Feeling like your days mean something. Not grand purpose, just the quiet kind. Contributing. Creating. Caring.
You don't need all seven firing at once. That's not the point. The point is that when something feels off, you have a map to help you figure out where the disconnect might be. Maybe you're sleeping fine but you haven't had a real conversation with someone you trust in weeks. Maybe you're exercising plenty but running on autopilot mentally. The layers help you see what's missing.
What holistic is NOT
Let me be direct, because I think this matters.
Holistic is not anti-medicine. If you need medication, take it. If you need surgery, get it. If your doctor recommends something, listen. Holistic living and modern medicine aren't in competition. They work best together.
Holistic is not about perfection. It's not about having the ideal morning routine, the perfect diet, and a meditation practice that would impress a monk. It's about awareness. Noticing what your body and mind need, and trying — imperfectly, inconsistently — to respond.
And holistic is not a replacement for professional help. If you're struggling with your mental health, a sound bath is not a substitute for a therapist. Both can be part of the picture, but one is not a substitute for the other.
What holistic really means, at least to me, is this: you are not just a body. You are not just a mind. You are not just your job, your relationships, or your habits. You are all of it, woven together. And taking care of yourself means caring for the whole weave, not just the thread that's most visibly fraying.
It's not magic. It's not even complicated. It's just paying attention to the full picture of what it means to be a person, and giving yourself permission to tend to all of it.
With love,
Charlotte