A Curse and a Blessing

Familial hypercholesterolemia (FH), or genetically high cholesterol, is a unique health condition that’s impacted my life in ways I never expected. Living with FH often feels like I’m walking a thin line between fear and gratitude, where my health condition brings a strange mixture of feelings. From moments of anxiety and isolation to deep purpose and self-discovery, it’s been a journey of understanding, resilience, and growth. It’s taught me how to face uncertainty and find strength in helping others on their wellness paths.

The invisible burden of genetically high cholesterol

At its core, having genetically high cholesterol feels like being given an invisible burden. Unlike conditions that you can treat with lifestyle changes or heal entirely, FH is something I’ve carried since birth. There’s nothing I did to "cause" it, and there’s no straightforward solution to fix it (yet!). It’s in my DNA. And while that may sound straightforward, it feels anything but. Having this genetic condition has made me feel a mix of vulnerability and loneliness — like there’s something fundamentally "broken" inside me, something that makes me different from others in a way that’s impossible to change.

A sense of limited control

One of the hardest parts is knowing that FH isn’t something that can simply be "cured." No amount of healthy eating or regular exercise will magically reduce my cholesterol to "normal" levels. Believe me — I’ve tried. And while I do everything I can to stay healthy, there’s a quiet frustration that lingers, knowing I can only manage it with medication and vigilance, not erase it entirely.

This sense of limited control can trigger feelings of anxiety and even grief — a mourning for the carefree health I’ll never experience. It’s as though there’s always a shadow, a lingering reminder that my body requires constant attention, that my health is something I must keep an eye on and not take for granted.

Unsolicited, oversimplified advice from others

There are also moments when I feel very alone in my experience. Health advice around cholesterol often feels like it’s not meant for people like me — those of us whose cholesterol is more than just a dietary or lifestyle choice. It’s hard not to feel misunderstood or even dismissed when I hear well-meaning but oversimplified advice to "just eat better" or "exercise more," as though FH can be cured by willpower alone.

There’s a strange loneliness in knowing that this condition is both common and rare; many people have high cholesterol, but relatively few understand the unique burden of the genetic kind. It can feel isolating to realize that, despite living in a world that talks more openly about health than ever, my experience doesn’t quite fit into the mainstream narrative.

Turning fear into curiosity

FH has also given me something unexpected: a sense of purpose. Growing up with this condition has naturally drawn me toward a career in health and wellness. Over time, the fear and frustration turned into curiosity. I started learning about health beyond the basics and diving deep into how our bodies work, what we can do to support them, and how we can help others do the same.

Eventually, I realized that my purpose was to take what I’d learned and share it with others. Living with FH gave me a unique perspective — one that’s both empathetic and knowledgeable. I know what it’s like to feel like your body is against you, and that understanding fuels my passion to help others.

The importance of mental and physical health

In a way, FH has also helped me create a lifestyle that keeps me grounded and focused. In my work as a yoga teacher and wellness professional, I’m constantly reminded of the importance of taking care of our bodies and minds. FH has given me insight into what it really means to nurture ourselves, not just as an abstract idea but as a daily practice.

This condition forced me to look closely at how I treat myself, both physically and mentally. It taught me that self-care isn’t selfish but essential, especially when dealing with chronic health conditions. This insight became a cornerstone of my work, allowing me to guide others with authenticity and genuine care.

FH is no longer just a curse

So while FH has brought fear, anxiety, and even grief, it has also been a powerful teacher. It’s forced me to confront the parts of myself that feel broken or limited and to find strength within them. It’s taught me resilience, a deep empathy for others struggling with invisible burdens, and the value of health in all its forms. It pushed me onto a path where I could make a difference, using my experiences to help others navigate their own health challenges.

Living with FH is still hard, but it’s no longer just a curse. It’s also a reminder that sometimes the things we perceive as weaknesses or limitations can lead us to our greatest strengths.

Having FH gave me the tools to help others

In the end, having FH is a complex experience. It’s a part of me that’s brought pain and growth, loneliness and connection, despair and purpose. I may never know what it’s like to be "free" from this condition, but in a way, I’ve made peace with that.

FH has become more than just a genetic quirk; it’s shaped who I am and given me the tools to help others. And while it’s not a blessing I would have chosen, it’s one that has ultimately helped me find my purpose in a way that I’ll always be grateful for.