My entire life, I focused on the physical pillars of health—nutrition, exercise, sleep, recovery. I made them a non-negotiable part of my life, not just because I wanted to feel good today, but because I believe in the possibility of living a long, vibrant life. What I call #To100Healthy.

But along the way, something deeper surfaced. I started noticing patterns that didn’t quite fit into the physical side of health. Patterns of exhaustion that weren’t solved by rest. A sense of disconnection, even when things looked “successful” on paper. A quiet inner tension that no amount of exercise or breathwork could fully release.

That’s when I realized: there’s another layer to longevity that we don’t talk about enough—our emotional health.

For me, the wake-up call came when I revisited a book I had read years ago: The Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Miller. It’s not a book about giftedness in the traditional sense. It’s about children who became hyper-attuned to the emotional needs of others, often at the cost of their own. Many of us learned early on that love was conditional—based on performance, achievement, or caretaking. And those survival strategies? We carried them into adulthood. I certainly did.

Here’s the thing: they helped me. They made me responsible, reliable, capable. But they also made me tired. They kept me in a pattern of doing more, giving more, achieving more—believing, somewhere deep down, that it was the only way to be worthy of love and belonging.

It took me years to realize that this way of being wasn’t sustainable. And more importantly, that it wasn’t necessary. Healing this has become a vital part of my personal To100Healthy practice. And the science only reinforces what I’ve felt in my body: emotional health is not separate from physical health. It’s the foundation for it.

Here are seven lessons I’ve learned along the way—lessons that are helping me move toward a long, healthy, and deeply authentic life.

1. When love feels conditional, you lose touch with who you really are.

I learned early on how to be “good.” My parents even named me Hien, which means “good-natured.” It was more than just a name—it was a blueprint for how I was expected to show up in the world. Helpful. Capable. Composed. I took it to heart, often without question. But what I didn’t understand back then was that living by those rules—always putting others first, always being the reliable one—often meant losing touch with parts of myself. The parts that had needs of their own. The parts that didn’t want to be “good” all the time.

What I’ve come to realize is that over time, living out of alignment with who we truly are creates a very real form of chronic stress. The body doesn’t differentiate between emotional suppression and external threat—it responds the same way: by ramping up cortisol, increasing inflammation, and slowly wearing down the systems that are supposed to keep us healthy and resilient.

Reclaiming who you are isn’t just an act of self-expression—it’s a strategy for long-term health. It’s not a luxury. It’s essential if we’re serious about living a long, vibrant life.

2. Unhealed emotional wounds don’t stay in the past.

I used to think if I just worked harder, stayed busy, and kept moving forward, I could outrun my past. But the body doesn’t work like that. Studies on Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) make it clear: early emotional neglect increases the risk for chronic diseases later in life. Healing those patterns now is an investment in our future health.

3. Achievement can’t fill the void.

For years, I thought success was the answer. More credentials, more results, more everything. But the truth is, external success doesn’t heal the need to feel seen and valued for who we are—not what we do. Learning to rest in self-worth, rather than chasing it, has been a game-changer. And I can feel it in my nervous system. Less tension. More ease.

4. The body keeps score. Always.

When I suppressed my emotions, they didn’t just disappear. They showed up as chronic tension in my neck and shoulders, shallow breathing, and fatigue that rest alone couldn’t fix. Emotional repression creates stress in the body that accumulates over time, impacting immune function and increasing disease risk. Letting those emotions move through me—whether through breathwork, movement, or honest conversations—has been profoundly healing.

5. Compassion is the key to freedom.

For a while, I was impatient —at people who let me down, at outdated systems that had nothing to do with health and healing. But I realized that holding onto that frustration kept me stuck. Compassion doesn’t mean excusing harm, but it does mean freeing myself from its grip. And that shift lowered my stress in ways I could feel. My sleep improved. My digestion improved. My energy returned.

6. Boundaries are not selfish. They’re self-care.

For years, I said yes when I meant no. I over-explained, over-gave, and overworked to avoid disappointing anyone. What I’ve learned is that boundaries aren’t walls; they’re invitations to healthier relationships—with others and with myself. And when I hold healthy boundaries, I feel calmer. My nervous system can finally relax. And that’s where real healing begins.

7. You are allowed to be more than who you had to be.

The roles I played as a child—caretaker, achiever, peacekeeper—were strategies I needed back then. But I’m not that child anymore. I’m allowed to be whole. To rest. To ask for what I need. And the research on neuroplasticity confirms it: we can rewire those old patterns. We can change. And in doing so, we create the conditions for true longevity—not just in years lived, but in the quality and vitality of those years.

If I’ve learned anything on this soulspan journey, it’s this: emotional health is not optional if we’re serious about longevity. Chronic stress, suppressed emotion, and old attachment wounds are silent drivers of disease. They wear on the nervous system, disrupt sleep, and impair the body’s ability to heal and regenerate.

For me, To100Healthy isn’t about perfect routines or rigid biohacking. It’s about integration. About tending to the unseen parts of myself. About finding freedom in my body, peace in my mind, and alignment in how I live.

And I believe this is the real path to longevity. Not just living longer—but living better. More freely. More fully.

If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear about your journey.

With you,
Thi Hien Nguyen