Why Hygiene Factors Matter More Than You Think in Wellbeing

When people think about wellbeing, they often picture peace, joy, and maybe a little yoga. It’s commonly treated like a feeling — something you either have or you don’t — or like a reward that comes once you’ve ticked off a few boxes: eat healthily, go to the gym, maybe do some journaling. But very few of us approach wellbeing the way we would any other skill worth developing. If you wanted to be a great musician or athlete, you’d expect to practice. You’d experiment, reflect, adapt. And yet when it comes to feeling well in ourselves, we rarely apply the same process. We hope for wellbeing, rather than build it.

That approach leaves a lot of people stuck. I often ask people, “Can you name five things you could do today that would leave you feeling like it was a good day for your wellbeing?” Most people struggle to answer. Not because they don’t care, but because they’ve never taken the time to figure it out. They haven’t identified their personal drivers — the core things that actually nourish their energy, focus, or sense of meaning. That’s understandable. These aren’t things we’re taught to explore. But it’s worth remembering that your first answers probably aren’t quite right. It takes time to dig into what actually helps you feel well. The process is messy at first, but like any skill, it sharpens with attention and effort.

Alongside this idea of wellbeing as a skill, there’s another crucial piece that’s often missed — and it’s far less glamorous. It’s the stuff that doesn’t generate wellbeing, but whose absence will quietly destroy it. I call these “hygiene factors.” These are the basic conditions that support wellbeing, not by adding to it directly, but by preventing its collapse. If your heating breaks in winter, or your sleep is constantly interrupted, or you’re under serious financial strain, it doesn’t matter how many yoga sessions or gratitude journals you stack on top. The foundation isn’t holding.

Hygiene factors don’t get much airtime in most wellbeing conversations because, frankly, they’re boring. They’re about things like working toilets, safe housing, uninterrupted time, and functioning relationships. They’re rarely exciting. Often, they’re things you only notice when they go wrong. But when they do, they become all-consuming. You can’t meditate your way out of a damp bedroom or budget your way around a completely broken financial system. You can’t fix hygiene problems with motivational strategies. If you try, you’ll end up frustrated, blaming yourself for why you’re not “feeling better” despite doing all the right things on paper.

It’s worth pausing here to make a distinction: wellness and illness are not two ends of the same spectrum. Illness is a medical condition — something diagnosable or needing intervention. Wellness is about function. It’s about having the energy, clarity, stability, and support to move through life in a way that feels aligned. That’s why wellbeing isn’t just the absence of illness. It’s a set of active choices and conditions. And crucially, it’s shaped by what’s going on in your environment as much as your mindset.

This brings us back to hygiene factors. These are the elements that get you to the starting line. They don’t create thriving, but they enable it. Without them, you’re not standing on solid ground. They can be physical (like sleep, housing, plumbing), emotional (like psychological safety or autonomy), or even social (toxic dynamics, lack of support). When these things are functioning, they become invisible. But when they’re not, they dominate everything.

Some hygiene factors are one-off fixes — they’re inconvenient, but once dealt with, they fade into the background. Others are ongoing and harder to shift. Chronic financial pressure, long-term housing issues, or embedded workplace stress can’t always be solved overnight. In those cases, it’s not about pretending they’re fine or trying to “think positively” through them. It’s about naming them, acknowledging their weight, and adjusting your expectations accordingly. You wouldn’t try to run a marathon with a broken ankle. The same logic applies to wellbeing.

So what does this mean in practice? First, you need to understand the drivers that actually support your wellbeing. That takes time, reflection, and probably a few failed guesses. But second — and just as important — you need to take a hard look at what might be quietly sabotaging your efforts. That’s the role of hygiene factors. If you find yourself constantly spinning your wheels, putting effort into wellbeing but feeling no better, it’s worth asking: what might be broken in the background?

Sometimes this requires some uncomfortable honesty. It’s easier to download a habit tracker than it is to face the fact that your living situation is wearing you down or your working hours are unsustainable. But if we want to treat wellbeing as something real and durable — not just a mood or aspiration — we need to include these factors in the conversation. They’re not excuses. They’re part of the picture.

A good starting point is a simple daily reflection: at the end of each day, ask yourself what helped and what hurt your wellbeing. Do this for five days, then look for patterns. What keeps showing up in the “drained me” column? What small things helped, even if just for a moment? Over time, you’ll start to see not only what lifts you up, but also what quietly drags you down — especially those invisible hygiene factors.

In summary, wellbeing isn’t a destination, and it’s not a personality trait. It’s a process of awareness, maintenance, and sometimes repair. You won’t always be in control of all the parts. But you can start by building a more realistic picture. That means identifying your personal drivers — the things that give you energy, clarity, or joy — and naming the hygiene factors that make that difficult. With those two pieces in place, you can begin to move toward something that feels less like chasing an ideal and more like living with intention.

And yes, maybe that starts with fixing the toilet.