Why Traditional Health Clocks Don’t Work

My myalgic encephalomyelitis has been flared up for a while. My doctors and I kept hoping that maybe things would improve on their own. I was trying to see this as a temporary setback. You know, just a little bump in the road that would smooth itself out if I just rested. But after days that turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, I’ve come to a realization that’s been tough to swallow. This flare-up isn’t going away on its own. This is why traditional health clocks don’t work. This, right here, might just be my new normal

I know that might sound like it would be depressing. But for me, it just comes with a sigh of resignation and acceptance. And actually, a little excitement, too.

I’ve decided this is my opportunity to rebuild. But this time, I’m not looking to get back to the imbalanced version of myself that was seeing self-care as transactional. I don’t want to take care of myself just to get something else in return. I want self-care to be something more grounded, something that truly sustains me. Cares for me.

Over the years, I’ve come across a lot of advice about aligning with natural rhythms. Circadian rhythms, Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) clocks, Ayurvedic clocks—you name it. And while these ideas sound beautiful in theory, I’ve found myself increasingly frustrated. They just don’t work for me, and I’m beginning to think they don’t work for many people. Especially those of us living with chronic illnesses. So I decided to research them and find out where these clocks came from.

Why Traditional Health Clocks Don’t Work: Circadian Rhythms

Let’s start with circadian rhythms. These 24-hour cycles supposedly govern everything from our sleep-wake patterns to hormone release. The idea is that by syncing our lives to these rhythms, we can optimize our health and well-being. But here’s the catch: my body doesn’t follow a neat 24-hour cycle anymore, if it ever did. Adhering to this cycle feels impossible.

The idea is to wake up with the sunrise, eat at consistent times, wind down with the sunset, and sleep through the night. It’s a lovely picture, but for someone who struggles to fall asleep and stay asleep, and wakes up feeling like they’ve been hit by a truck, it’s simply not realistic. My body is in its own time zone, one that doesn’t match up with the world’s expectations.

So then I looked at the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Clock

Traditional Chinese Medicine divides the day into two-hour segments, each associated with a specific organ system. The theory goes that by aligning our activities with these times, we can support our body’s natural functions. But for me, and likely many others, these times feel more like work and so much effort to make sure we stick to them.

For instance, the spleen is most active between 9 am and 11 am. Meaning that we have the clearest thinking at this point in the day. Some days, sure that might be the case. But other days, it honestly takes me 4 or 5 hours after being awake to feel human again. If my body was as simple as a mechanical clock, then sure these two hour time blocks might work, but it seems impossible to stick with day after day. And that’s really hard for my high achiever and inner perfectionist to work with.

Why Traditional Health Clocks Don’t Work: Ayurveda Dosha Clock

The Ayurvedic clock was designed with an understanding of the natural world and the body’s rhythms. Reflecting the broader cultural and spiritual practices of the time. The idea is to align your daily routines with the dosha that dominates each part of the day. For example, the Kapha period from 6 AM to 10 AM is supposed to be grounding and supportive for physical activity. But when 6 AM rolls around, my body is often still in deep recovery mode. I am rarely awake. And if I do physical activity this early in the morning (and by early I mean before 10 or 11 am) I am wrecked for the rest of the day. The pressure to be productive or active during this time feels not just unhelpful, but downright cruel. It does not work for me. 

And then I feel bad because this is an ancient system that is supposedly supposed to work to help your body heal and find balance.

The Privilege of Following These Clocks

One aspect that often gets overlooked in discussions about these traditional health clocks is the historical and social context in which they were developed. These systems—whether it’s circadian rhythms, TCM, or Ayurveda—were historically accessible mainly to the privileged elite and upper classes, or exclusively men as in the case of early circadian rhythm research.

These ways of living are a lot easier to follow by those who have the luxury of time, resources, energy, and access to specialized knowledge and practices.The rhythms of these clocks often reflected the lives of those who had the means to live in harmony with nature, without the daily grind of survival, work, or other obligations that disrupt such idealized schedules.

Even today, the ability to follow these clocks closely is often a mark of privilege. It’s easier to wake up with the sunrise and meditate when you don’t have to work late into the night to make ends meet. It’s simpler to follow an Ayurvedic routine when you have access to fresh, organic foods and the time to prepare them according to the dosha’s specifications.

But for many of us, especially those living with chronic illnesses or dealing with the demands of modern life, these clocks are not just difficult—they’re unattainable. They’re built on assumptions of balance and stability that don’t take into account the realities of pain, fatigue, financial strain, or the unpredictability of chronic conditions.

Rebuilding from the Ground Up

I’m not forcing myself into these molds that don’t fit, or going back to the capitalist model that doesn’t fit. Instead, I’m learning to listen to my body in a new way. I’m starting to rebuild my stamina from the ground up, but this time I’m not working toward the same kind of imbalance I had before. 

This means accepting that my body has its own rhythms, and they don’t always align with the world’s expectations—or even with my own expectations. It means being okay with resting when I need to rest, even if it’s at a time when I’m “supposed” to be active. It means finding small, grounded ways to care for myself that don’t rely on fitting into a rigid schedule.

What Does This Look Like in Practice?

I’m still figuring that out. Just like how every client I work with is different and needs their routines and energy flow to match their day and responsibilities, I need to do the same for me.

Maybe it means focusing more on how I feel rather than what the clock says. Or maybe it means building flexibility into my routines, so I can adapt to how I’m feeling on any given day. I bet I need to start thinking of my daily energy cycle in much smaller pieces than a 24 hour time block. Or even a 2 hour time block, for that matter.

And, most importantly, it means being compassionate with myself when things don’t go as planned. Because more often than not, they won’t. Chronic illness is unpredictable, and so is life. But that doesn’t mean I have to give up on finding balance. It just means I have to redefine what balance looks like for me.

Why Traditional Health Clocks Don’t Work

It’s been clear to me for years that there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to health and well-being. The traditional health clocks—circadian rhythms, TCM, Ayurveda—offer valuable insights, but they’re not hard truth. They’re tools, and like any tool, they need to be adapted to fit the job.

For those of us living with chronic conditions, that adaptation might mean throwing out the clock altogether and focusing on what works for us, right here, right now. It might mean letting go of the idea that we need to fit into a certain mold to be healthy or successful. It might mean embracing the idea that our bodies, with all their quirks and challenges, are still worthy of care and respect.

This journey is ongoing, and I’m still learning every day. But one thing I know for sure is that I’m done trying to force myself into someone else’s idea of balance. Instead, I’m committed to finding my own rhythm—a rhythm that might look different from everyone else’s, but that’s okay. It’s mine, and that’s what matters.

Figuring routines and how to make life feel more calm and easy is what I do for other people. So now, this is just my opportunity to do this for myself.