Hi guys! Welcome to Episode 615 of The Wildly Successful Lifestyle podcast! I know I don’t sound better but I feel 100% better! Oof the contrast between being sick and feeling great is gigantic. It really does make you appreciate being healthy. Also how your health really is one of the most important things to spend your time on, life is no fun when you don’t have it! We all need a reminder of that periodically….so there it is…
Today’s episode is one of those that started as a little knot in my stomach and turned into a full-blown conversation I kind of needed to have out loud. It has to do with something I bet a lot of us have felt but maybe haven’t really named yet. You’ll have to see if you agree. You may disagree with this episode completely. And fair enough if you do, but this has been on my mind for a while. So get ready to say oh my gosh yes, or if you don’t agree you can think that too. But I have found that…….
Ever since Covid, I have noticed this trend, this thing we do now as a society, and that is… When we get sick—even just a regular cold or a little fever—we immediately start playing detective. Who gave this to me? Who was the carrier? Whose kid was coughing at school pickup? Who came to book club with that scratchy throat? It’s like we’re all amateur epidemiologists trying to pin down Patient Zero.
And it’s not just curiosity. There’s this undercurrent of… blame. Or guilt. Or both.
I felt it hard a couple weeks ago, and it’s been sitting with me ever since.
We host this annual Christmas party every year. It’s one of my favorite nights—the house is full of people we love, the food’s ridiculous, everyone lingers way longer than they planned to. This year we had about 50 people coming.
The morning of the party, Eric wakes up sick. Like, actually sick—fever, chills, the works. He never left our bedroom the entire day. He isolated himself upstairs like a good citizen. And suddenly I’m standing there in my pajamas thinking: Do I cancel this thing? Day-of? With caterers already on the way and 50 people probably getting dressed up? What if I didn’t reach everyone and a few showed up all ready to party and we have to turn them away? My sister and I had a full blown scenario of that happening where we are in our jammies and guests show up in their gorgeous outfits because they didn’t get the message…….you can imagine. We were making light of it but we also knew it was quite likely what could happen.
I panicked a little. I polled a few close friends. I even asked Grok—yes, the AI—because at that point I was asking anyone who would listen. And the overwhelming consensus was: Have the party. Eric isolates upstairs. Life goes on.
So we did. And honestly? It was wonderful. People asked about Eric, sent their love up the stairs, and the night felt warm and full and exactly what we all needed after a long year.
Three days later, I get a text from one of our friends who’d been there. He’s down with a fever. Same symptoms Eric had.
My stomach dropped. Three days is a long incubation for some things, sure. And this friend had just flown home from a trip—he’d been at airports, on planes. It could have come from anywhere. But my very first thought was: Did we do this? Did I do this? Like I felt really bad….
I told Eric I felt awful. I said, “I should have canceled. What if other people got sick?” And he looked at me and said, “Heidi, don’t do that to yourself.”
And I thought: You know what? He’s right. But also… why is this even a thing I’m doing to myself?
Because pre-Covid, this wouldn’t have even registered. Someone gets a cold after a party? That’s just December. That’s life. No one would have texted to say, “Hey, I’m sick—think it was your house?” And I certainly wouldn’t have spiraled into hostess guilt.
But now? Now we trace it. We blame. We apologize. We side-eye the person who showed up with a sniffle. I have friends whose kids literally get mad at each other—“You gave me your cold! I hate you!”—over something no one could control.
It’s like getting sick became a moral issue somewhere along the way. If you spread it—even accidentally—you’re irresponsible. If you get it, you’re looking for someone to point at so it feels less random.
And I get it. Covid was scary. We learned about asymptomatic spread and viral loads and R-naughts, and suddenly ordinary colds felt like potential threats. We masked, we distanced, we canceled everything for a long time—and it worked for the big stuff. But now we’re applying that same hyper-vigilance to the regular bugs that have always been part of being human.
I’m not saying we should be reckless. If you’re truly sick, stay home if you can. Especially if youre in direct contact with people, I got sick the next day and had to cancel my hair appt, my dentist appt, a dr appt, all because I was being careful. That’s how we’ve generally always done things. But this layer of blame and guilt we’ve added on top? That’s kind of new and it started with Covid. I think it’s costing us.
It’s costing us joy. It’s making us hesitate to gather. It’s turning normal life into a risk assessment every single time.
And the truth is, most of the time, we have no idea where something came from. That friend who got sick? Could have been our house. Could have been the airport. Could have been the grocery store two days later. We’ll never know. And that’s okay.
Eric staying upstairs was us trying to do the right thing. Having the party was us trying to do the right thing. Living our lives while being reasonably careful—that’s the balance we’re all still figuring out.
I think what I needed to hear—and maybe what some of you need to hear—is grace. For ourselves and for each other.
If you went to a gathering and got sick later, it’s probably not because someone was trying to take you down. They were just trying to live. And if you hosted something and someone got sick later, you probably weren’t reckless. You were just trying to bring people together.
We’re all doing the best we can with imperfect information in imperfect bodies in an imperfect world full of invisible germs.
So maybe the next time that little voice in our head starts asking, “Who gave this to me?” we can answer it with: “Doesn’t matter. It’s here now. I’ll rest and get better. And I’ll try not to pass it on.”
And the next time we feel that twinge of guilt over a party or a playdate or a hug—maybe we can let Eric’s voice cut through: “Don’t do that to yourself.”
Because joy is worth it. Community is worth it. Showing up for each other—imperfectly, carefully, humanly—is worth it.
I needed that reminder this Christmas season. Maybe you did too.
Thanks for letting me think this through with you today. If this hit home for you—if you’ve felt that guilt or that blame—tell me about it. I read every message, and I love knowing I’m not the only one wrestling with this stuff.
Until next time, be kind to yourself. And maybe go hug someone you love. Germs and all.
I love you guys, I’ll talk to you in a few days!
