There’s a strange kind of heartbreak that comes when no matter how hard you try to stay healthy, you still end up with a medical diagnosis.
Not because you ignored your health.
Not because you didn’t try.
But because you did try.
You ate better.
You moved your body.
You researched.
You adjusted.
You prayed.
And then the doctor says:
Lipedema.
Chronic Venous Insufficiency.
Oh, and by the way… Deep Vein Thrombosis.
And suddenly you’re sitting there wondering how something can still be wrong when you were doing your best to take care of yourself.
You begin to question every decision you’ve made.
Was it all a waste of time?
Is it even worth it to keep going?
You almost think, “Well… might as well eat the ice cream and burger.”
The Part No One Talks About
We hear so much about prevention.
Eat clean.
Exercise.
Reduce stress.
Drink water.
Sleep more.
And while those things absolutely matter, there’s something we don’t talk about enough:
Sometimes the body carries things that lifestyle alone cannot prevent.
Lipedema isn’t caused by laziness.
Chronic Venous Insufficiency isn’t a punishment for not walking enough miles.
Sometimes it’s genetics.
Sometimes it’s hormones.
Sometimes it’s simply the way our bodies are wired.
And that can feel incredibly unfair.
Then the Guilt Creeps In
If you’re anything like me, the first reaction isn’t anger.
It’s guilt.
“Did I miss something?”
“Should I have caught this sooner?”
“Did I not try hard enough?”
As caregivers especially, we are so used to managing everyone else’s health that when our own body waves a red flag, it feels personal. It feels like betrayal — because you thought you were doing everything right to prevent it.
But here’s the truth I am slowly learning — and I do mean slowly.
A medical diagnosis of any kind takes time to process. There are many walking far more severe paths than mine, and this is for you too.
A diagnosis is information.
Not a moral failure.
Grieving the Body You Thought You Had
There is a quiet grief that comes with chronic conditions.
You grieve:
The body you thought you had.
The ease you wish it still carried.
The simplicity of not thinking about compression, circulation, swelling, procedures… or worse.
You grieve the body you may feel like you’re losing.
And yet…
You also discover resilience you didn’t know you had.
Taking Care of Yourself Still Matters
This part is important.
Just because something “just happens” does not mean caring for yourself is pointless.
It means caring for yourself shifts from prevention to support.
I’ve been told there was likely nothing I could have done to prevent lipedema. In fact, they believe I may have had it since my teen years.
But what I can do now is fully support my lymphatic system.
I may not have caused chronic venous insufficiency.
But I can strengthen circulation, move gently, and make informed decisions.
I can still exercise.
I can still eat healthy.
I just have to approach it from a different perspective.
My body has been through trauma. What used to come easily may not anymore. Some things I may never be able to do again.
That kind of acceptance takes time.
There is power — and peace — in focusing on what we can control, even when we cannot control everything.
For the Women Quietly Blaming Themselves
If you’ve been diagnosed with something that feels unfair…
If you’ve been working hard and still feel like your body betrayed you…
If you’re doing “all the right things” and still navigating a chronic condition…
I see you.
Your health journey is not a scoreboard.
It’s not a reflection of your worth.
And it’s not proof that you failed.
Sometimes things still happen.
And sometimes grace looks like adjusting instead of accusing yourself.
Where I’m At Right Now
I’m learning. Researching. And learning some more.
I’m asking a lot of questions — to my providers and to others walking a similar path.
I’m slowing down where I need to.
I’m learning to rest when I have to. (This one has me on the struggle bus, not going to lie.)
Most importantly, I’m choosing not to spiral into shame and let this diagnosis steal my spirit.
This isn’t the chapter I would have written for myself.
But it is the one I’m walking through.
And if you’re walking something similar — you are not alone.
If this resonates with you, I would love to hear your story. Drop it below.
Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is talk about what we’re carrying.