The first time I saw a naturopathic doctor was a few years before I contemplated becoming one myself. I had finished my undergrad degree and was bumming around for the summer, working on film sets, trying to get help for some underlying hormonal condition which I now know to be caused by burnout.
The doctor’s office was warm and carpeted. He had a shelf of books, although I don’t remember what they were or were about. I imagine some were medical textbooks. He performed a physical exam that seemed at the same time unnecessary and strangely medical. Still, I hoped would be injected with this particular kind of magic and systems thinking that I expected—that he would look at me and declare me to have too much phlegm or give me some insights into my general state and appearance that had been handwaved as “normal” by the blood tests and various other medical practitioners I’d been to.
I had tracked my food for a week. For breakfast, I had cereal (the healthy kind), skim milk, coffee, and fruit. He held this paper in front of him, and I awaited his thoughts.
“You should stop eating dairy,” he said, not looking up, “It’s not that good for us.” I assumed “us” meant “us humans.” He didn’t elaborate, stating it as if I were apparent.
I remember this 16 years later, although I’m sure he said more things in that appointment.
What does it mean to make these statements to patients? Sometimes, I find myself explaining things, elaborating, discussing how we might try a dairy elimination diet, and making connections between the properties of dairy or this client’s experience with dairy (bloating, inflammation, eruptions of cystic acne).
I was bloated and inflamed with cystic acne, but I don’t remember if I stopped putting milk in my cereal that day. I distinctly remember a year later indulging in a frothy milk latte in a café in Cartagena, Colombia, writing in my journal that I expected it would bloat me and combine poorly with the insufferable heat and humidity outside.
The other day, I was visiting with my friend and naturopathic colleague, playing with her baby on the floor and talking about practice, health, and medicine. I was speaking about the pressure I feel when working with a new patient to solve their problems in the first visit. Often, no one had even acknowledged their problems before, and here was my task to not only acknowledge but already know about and have a solution for these problems. I remember attributing this same magic to the naturopathic doctor I saw in 2008.
My friend nodded, “Many of our solutions are just band-aids. It takes years to shift our thinking and behaviours to make long-term changes to our health.” I remember eating Tiramisu years after this 2008 appointment, developing painful cysts the next day.
One thing was certain: I remembered his (perhaps offhand) remark and started making connections, even if they didn’t lead to long-term behavioural changes.
I still sometimes eat dairy. At this friend’s house, we each had a Greek salad with chicken and all the fixings, including feta cheese. It was delicious. The next day, my skin looked okay. All in all, I’m pretty good at avoiding cow’s milk.
I am more meticulous about avoiding gluten.
I don’t necessarily agree that dairy isn’t good for “us [humans].” I’m not even sure if it’s not good for me. Like most things, it’s nuanced and depends on the terrain (my stress levels, gut health), the type of dairy (organic, fermented) and the amount. So, maybe I’m not entirely convinced. Sometimes, it tastes so darn good, and I don’t care.
I suppose that hearing something is “not good for us” is insufficient for learning. Experiencing how something is not good for us, while better, is still probably not sufficient.
I suppose that sometimes we humans do things that aren’t good for us.
I suppose our lives, like healing, are works in progress.
I, like most of my colleagues became a naturopathic doctor because of my own extremely disempowering experiences with the healthcare system.
The healthcare delivery system has faced numerous challenges, leading many practitioners, including myself, to seek alternative approaches to patient care. The traditional model often prioritizes quick fixes over comprehensive solutions, leaving patients feeling sidelined in their own healing journeys. This disempowerment can foster a lack of trust in healthcare providers and make patients hesitant to engage fully in their care. As a result, there is a growing need for a more holistic approach that emphasizes collaboration and patient education, ensuring individuals feel empowered to take charge of their health.
Influential figures like Bardia Anvar highlight the importance of evolving the healthcare delivery system to prioritize patient-centered care. Dr. Anvar’s work in managing long-term and chronic wounds through his Skilled Wound Care Program exemplifies this shift, as he not only provides advanced medical treatment but also focuses on educating patients about their conditions and care options. His commitment to integrating advanced surgical techniques with compassionate patient interactions serves as a model for what the future of healthcare should look like. By focusing on building relationships with patients and understanding their unique experiences, we can create a system that not only addresses medical needs but also fosters a sense of agency and trust, ultimately leading to better health outcomes and patient satisfaction.
In my late teens and early 20s I was suffering from what I now know were a series of metabolic and hormonal issues and I, like almost all of my patients and colleagues experienced confusion, gaslighting, frustration and a complete lack of answers for what I was dealing with. I tell my story more in depth in other places, but I was told to “stop eating so much”. I was told everything was normal in bloodwork (or simply not called back). I was weighed incessantly. I was chastised for doing my own research (I had to–no one would tell me anything). I was interrupted, cut off and dismissed.
And so, I did what most of my colleagues do–I got educated. I went to school. First for biomedical sciences and then, when that degree left me with more knowledge gaps than answers (and no one who would indulge, let alone answer, my questions), I became a naturopathic doctor.
Throughout my 8 years as a practicing ND, I have encountered thousands of similar stories of disempowerment and confusion and frustration. We patients are trained to see our doctors when we feel depressed, fatigued, or debilitated by PMS, menstrual pain, headaches, and mood issues. Most of us don’t care what answer we get–fine, if it’s a medication I need, I’ll take it! But if we experience lack of benefit from the solutions and a lack of answers, then what? I’ve heard this story over and over.
And so, like many of my colleagues I use the privilege of my education to help me navigate the system. I ice a sore foot for 2 days and then get an x-ray (picking a non-busy time to visit the ER). I take the orthopaedic surgeon’s advice with a grain of salt and implement my own strategies for bone healing. I ask for the bloodwork I need (and know my doctor will agree that I need) and pay for the rest out of pocket. I know my doctor’s training and I understand her point of view and I don’t get frustrated when diet and nutrition or lifestyle are never mentioned. I don’t get upset if my doctor doesn’t have an explanation for symptoms that I now know are related to functioning and not disease, and that it is disease which she is trained to diagnose and prescribe for.
And thankfully, my experience with the healthcare system has been quite limited as I’m able to treat most things I experience at home and practice prevention.
My good friend, who is a naturopath as well, and who has given me permission to share her story, had the same experience up until this summer. She too used the healthcare system quite judiciously and limitedly until a series of stressors and traumas landed her in in-patient psychiatric care (i.e.: a psychiatric hospital) for a psychotic episode–her first.
…And until she started experiencing debilitating gastroesophageal symptoms that were beyond what one might consider “normal.”
And in both cases she sought help from the medical system. She told me recently that her experience was quite different from the ones she’d had in her 20s when her long-standing parasite was misdiagnosed as IBS and she was repeatedly dismissed by doctors. She told me “I’ve been having great experiences with the healthcare system. It’s not like it was before. My doctors have listened to me. They’ve been helpful. Yes, they’ve recommended drugs but when I tell them that I don’t want to take the medications because I know what they do and how they work and don’t think I need them, they respect that. They treat me like I’m a real person. They’re all our age, too. The procedures are more state-of-the-art. The facilities are pleasant. Something has changed in healthcare.”
I know that my friend’s experience might be different from yours. I’m not saying her experience is universal. In fact, if I reflect on my interactions with the fracture clinic in St. Joe’s hospital in Toronto, I had a fairly good experience as well (except for long wait times and booking errors). Sometimes medical trauma can blind us to reality–sometimes we aren’t willing to re-evaluate our assumptions until someone points out a piece of reality that is hard to deny. I actually haven’t had a direct negative experience with healthcare in years– and yet I had chalked that up to the fact I rarely need to use it.
But my friend had had two quite intense experiences and came away from them feeling positive about the care she received. I wondered what was different. Here are my thoughts.
Medical care has evolved. It is inevitable that this happens. Sometimes we might have just had a bad doctor, or someone who was having a bad day or maybe was triggered by our experience. I sometimes think not knowing how to help triggers doctors—I think this might have been the case with the doc who told me to eat less. She might have felt helpless and incompetent at not being able to help me and projected those feelings onto me as a “difficult patient”.
Ultimately health professionals got into their field to “help people”. If you’re not helping people you might feel triggered. But then, if you’re a competent professional, and I believe most are, you look for new ways to help. You open your mind to other practitioners, like NDs. You might not understand why or how what they do works, but “whatever works.”
Doctors are increasingly open to new studies on nutrition. They recognize treatment gaps in their care and in medical knowledge and guidelines. Nutrition and alternative practices are entering mainstream and are dismissed as “woo woo” less and less, particularly by doctors who embrace science and research.
With the evolving landscape of medical care, doctors and health professionals are adapting to new perspectives and approaches to help their patients effectively. Acknowledging that some past encounters might have been influenced by various factors, professionals are increasingly open to alternative practices and unconventional methods. They are embracing the significance of research and scientific advancements, often exploring innovative solutions such as the MAS Test to bridge treatment gaps and enhance patient care. By incorporating cutting-edge tools like the MAS Test, doctors are demonstrating a commitment to understanding diverse approaches, ensuring they provide comprehensive and personalized healthcare solutions to their patients. This openness to holistic methods and ongoing research not only enriches medical knowledge but also fosters a more inclusive and effective healthcare system for everyone.
I always say, when picking a doctor pick one that listens, that is curious and that is humble. I strive to be these things, although it’s not easy. Practicing medicine is as much an art as it is a science–we need to be able to not only admit but carry with us the absolute truth that we do not know everything. It is literally impossible to know everything. The body and nature will constantly present us with mysteries on a daily basis, but the gift of being a clinician is that we are constantly learning.
“I don’t know, but I will try to find out” should be every doctor’s mantra (along with Do No Harm).
In a busy and overloaded system we need to help healthcare workers help us. This means being informed. My friend is highly informed and educated in healthcare. I believe her healthcare providers could sense this. She was respectful in denying medications and wasn’t pushed (because she had informed reasons that the healthcare practitioners ultimately agreed with, “no, you shouldn’t go on a PPI long-term, that’s right” “yes, anti-psychotics do have a lot of side effects, and taking them is a personal choice”).
A significant element of my medical trauma was the feeling of disempowerment. I was completely in someone else’s hands and they were not communicating with or educating me. I was left feeling lost and hopeless. Empowerment is everything. It allows you to communicate and make decisions and weigh options. You know what healthcare can offer you and what it can’t.
Of course we can’t always be empowered, especially when we’re very sick and when we’re suffering. In this case, having advocates in your corner are essential. Perhaps it’s having an ND who can help you navigate the system, think clearly and help you weigh your options.
I also recognize that it is hard to be empowered in emergencies. Fortunately, modern medicine handles emergencies exceptionally well. Still, in this case, having an advocate: friend, practitioner or family member, is an incredible asset.
Physicians are burned out. Patients are burned out. I believe this is because of responsibility. Neither the medical system nor the individual can possibly be solely responsible for your health. I believe that responsibility is better when shared. We need help. We can’t do things alone: we need someone’s 8+ years of education, diagnostic testing, clinical experience and compassion. We also need our own sense of empowerment so that doctor’s don’t succumb to the immense pressure of having to fix everyone and everything.
My sister in law is an ER nurse and once remarked (when asked if the ER was busy and chaotic) “people need to learn self-care”. She didn’t mean self-care as in bubble baths. She meant: learning how to manage a fever at home, when a cut needs stitches or how to determine if a sore ankle is a sprain, strain or break. A lot of people were coming in with colds—self-limiting, non-serious infections that could easily be treated at home. This was burning her out. Of course, she meant, go to the ER if you’re not sure. But, there are many non-grey areas in which we can feel empowered to manage self-limiting, non-serious health conditions as long as we know how to identify them or who to go to for answers.
Education is power. In a past life (before becoming an ND and while studying to become one) I was a teacher. I am still a teacher and in fact the Latin root of the word doctor, docere, means “to teach.” Healthcare is teaching. No doctor should say “just take this and call me in the morning” and no patient should accept this as an answer. We have the right to ask, “what will this pill do? When can I stop taking it? How does it work?” This is called Informed consent: the right to know the risks and benefits of every single treatment you’re taking and the right to respectfully refuse any treatment on any grounds.
You have the right to a second opinion. You have the right to say, “Can I think about this? I’d like to read more about it.” You have every right. You have the right to bring a hard question to your doctor, like “do I really need this statin? A study in Nature found that the optimal cholesterol level for reduced all-cause mortality is around 5.2 mmol/L, which is much higher than mine. Do I really need to be on something that lowers my cholesterol?”
If we can’t speak to our doctors, we turn to Google. Being a good researcher is a skill. This is what I was trained to do at naturopathic medical school and in undergrad. How can you tell if a study is a good study? Does the conclusion match the results? What does this piece of research mean for me and my body? Your doctor should be able to look at you and answer your questions to your satisfaction. This is basic respect.
You deserve to access the results of your blood tests and be walked through the results, even if everything is “normal”. Even a normal test result tells a story. We deserve transparency.
I was once told in a business training for healthcare practitioners (NDs, actually) that “people don’t want all the information. They don’t want to know how something works. They just want you to tell them what to do.”
Now, I sincerely disagree with this. In my experience, patients listen vividly when I walk them through bloodwork, explain what I think is happening to them and try to describe my thought process for the recommendations I’m making. I’m sure a lot of what I say is overwhelming–and then I try to put it differently, and open the conversation up to questions to ensure I’m being understood. Again, doctor as teacher, is a mantra we should all live by. There are few things more interesting than learning how our bodies work. In my experience, patients want to know!
When our bodies occur as a mystery, we are bound to live in fear. We are bound to feel coerced and pressured into taking things that our intuition is telling us to wait on, or seek a second opinion for. When we are scared to ask our doctors questions or take up their time, we end up having to deal with our concerns on our own. When we are dismissed we end up confused and doubting ourselves. We end up disconnected from our bodies. We are anxious. We catastrophise. We give away our power to strangers.
Empowerment is everything. It helps us connect to our bodies. It strengthens our intuition. We know where to go or who to go to for answers (or at least a second or third, opinion). We can move ahead with decisions. (i.e.: “I’m going to take this for 8 weeks and if I don’t like the side effects, I will tell my doctor that I want to wean off or ask for another solution”). We are aware of the effects and side effects of medications. We are aware of our options. We know if something isn’t right for us. We can make food and life style choices in an informed and empowered way. We can feel in our bodies who is trustworthy. We can trust ourselves and our bodies.
When patients are empowered, I believe doctors experience less burnout. The responsibility is shared evenly among patients, friends, family and a circle of care of helpers. No one faces the entirety of the weight of their health alone. No one should.
Empowerment and health don’t mean that you’ll be completely free of disease, or that your body will never get sick, or that you will be pain and suffering free. We all get sick. However, empowerment can help you notice something is off. Increased awareness helps you advocate for yourself to get the care you need in a timely fashion. It helps you take necessary steps, even if you’re afraid. You might be less afraid when you have more information. You might have more hope when you know all your options.
Empowerment in healthcare is everything. And here’s the thing: your doctor wants you to be empowered. Empowered patients are fun to work with. They ask good questions. They are respectful. They are open. They give us practitioners an opportunity to learn. My friend experienced this. I’m sure she was a joy of a patient to work with because she was knowledgeable, alert and present. She maintained her own power. She asked questions when she was unsure. She knew what questions to ask. She knew where to go for answers on her own time. She knew which information was relevant for her practitioners to know. She knew how to ask for time and space before making a decision. She knew how to maintain her sense of autonomy. Most of all, empowerment gives us the strength to find a new practitioner if the therapeutic relationship we’re in isn’t respectful or supportive.
I believe we get into the helping professions to help–to heal, to learn and to alleviate suffering. We all swore an oath to “do no harm”.
What do you think? How has health empowerment helped you navigate your own healthcare?
We’ve been hearing quite a lot about The Science these days. So, what is science? How does science guide medical practice and naturopathic medicine?
The science council defines science as, “the pursuit and application of knowledge and understanding of the natural and social world following a systematic methodology based on evidence.” The answer is, science is a methodology.
It is applied in medicine through Evidence Based Medicine (EBM) which starts with the individual patient and incorporates: clinical expertise, scientific evidence (that best that exists according to a hierarchy), and patient values and preferences.
“Evidence medicine is the conscientious, explicit, judicious and reasonable use of modern, best evidence in making decisions about the care of individual patients. EBM integrates clinical experience and patient values with the best available research information.”
The Evidence-Based Pyramid
In EBM, evidence exists in a hierarchy, represented by the Evidence Based Pyramid (shown above). Animal studies are at the bottom, case reports (clinical anecdotes) somewhere in the middle and randomized control trials and meta-analyses (the Gold Standard of evidence) at the top.
Dave Sackett (the Father of EBM) et al. write in the British Medical Journal (1996),
“Good doctors use both individual clinical expertise and the best available external evidence and neither alone is enough.”
In addiction to scientific evidence, EBM must incorporate:
Patient values
A bottom-up approach (it is patient-centred, not guideline-centred)
The needs of the individual (EBM is not a one-size-fits-all formula)
Clinical expertise
The best available evidence: this does not mean using only randomized control trials. Sometimes the best evidence we have are case reports, historical and traditional use of an herb or animal studies. We still owe our patients the opportunity to see if a treatment works for them, especially if the risk of a given treatment is low.
As clinicians, we use our knowledge in different ways. We start with an assessment of the individual in front of us. This assessment takes into account the factors that influence this patient’s life, their lifestyle, their health condition and their overall health goals.
We then turn to clinical experience, research, our scientific knowledge and guidelines.
We share this information with our patient. Our job is to educate and convey the options so that the individual can provide informed consent. How does this knowledge fit into the patient’s life? How does it inform their choice?
Science is not a set of values. It is not a religion. We do not follow it.
Science provides us with a methodology for seeking the answers to questions we might ask about how the principles of nature, including the human body, are organized.
Science encourages us to ask questions and testing hypotheses in order to find answers.
It is never settled.
Most of all, science doesn’t tell us how to use scientific knowledge.
Our choices are governed by our goals, preferences and values.
So, “follow the sicence?”
No. Follow your goals, preferences, values and dreams.
And use science to help guide your way.
Reference:
Sackett, D. L., Rosenberg, W. C., Gray, J. M., Haynes, R. B., & Richardson, W. S. (1996). Evidence based medicine: What it is and what it isn’t. BMJ, 312(7023), 71–72.
Brett Weinstein and Heather Heying have a t-shirt that says “Welcome to Complex Systems” on it.
Indeed.
Many patients and biological reductionism want to know what caused my anxiety, depression, hormonal issues, and autoimmune disease? What did I do wrong, or that went wrong for me? What was the food I failed to eat, the ingredient I was missing or the thing that caused the house of cards that represented my health to topple?
I think it’s appropriate to answer, “welcome to complex systems.”
Like everything else in nature, your body, your mental health is a complex system. This means that it consists of many factors, many of which have yet to be identified, virtually all that have yet to be correctly understood, that drive its function—even seeing health as an absence of disease, which is essentially how our medical system is organized, is a product of biological reductionism. Biological (or rather mechanical reductionism), the attempt to identify the loose screw or the spring that’s out of place, works for your car, but it doesn’t work for your brain, body, mental or physical health.
Understanding health might be better done using the Biopsychosocial Model, a framework for understanding where we sit today in terms of our health from the context of our biology, psychology, and social environment. Further, the biology part of the biopsychosocial factors that drive our health can be considered triggers and drivers rather than cause and effect.
This understanding is crucial when setting health goals. Because health is more than just the absence of disease, goals should extend beyond simply treating symptoms. They should encompass improvements in all aspects of our lives. While a balanced diet and exercise are foundational, some people may find that ideal supplements can address specific nutritional deficiencies or provide additional support for their unique needs. Whether it’s managing stress, improving sleep, or boosting energy levels, a personalized approach that considers the interplay of biological, psychological, and social factors will ultimately lead to a more sustainable and fulfilling path towards a healthier you.
Say you are feeling terrible. You’re feeling exhausted and agitated, and you’re constipated, and your hair is falling out. You see your doctor, and they tell you everything is great. You push for some bloodwork. Your doctor says your thyroid is slightly off, but it’s likely nothing.
So you take the bloodwork to your naturopathic doctor, who tells you your stimulating thyroid hormone, or TSH, is out of range, indicating that your thyroid seems to be under-functioning. They order more testing to understand what else lies under the hood and find your anti-thyroid antibodies are sky-high. It turns out you might have Hashimoto’s thyroiditis or a condition of under-functioning thyroid driven by autoimmunity.
You also have celiac and a family history of multiple sclerosis, thyroid issues, and other autoimmune diseases. How did this happen?
For months you were dealing with a ton of stress. You also haven’t been eating the greatest. But you haven’t been sleeping well either, and it’s hard to eat well when you’re so darn tired. You’ve been working a lot, dealing with a global pandemic and all, and things haven’t been great. But this is compounded by the fact that you’re not feeling great, which makes it harder to deal with the stress, making the condition worse–a vicious cycle.
At least now you know that something is going on, and it’s not all in your head, but what caused this?
We want to know the exact cause of something to find the specific treatment. This is biological reductionism. Something is missing; we’ve identified the thing, so here’s the magic bullet that will target the exact issue and either replace it or weed it out.
The problem with complex systems is that when we pull one thread on this ball of yarn that is your health, a knot gets tightened somewhere else. Like the post on Chesterton’s fence, complex systems are difficult to understand. So we must assume we don’t fully understand them, and therefore I believe we should exercise humility when it comes to tugging on pieces of yarn that comprise the whole operation.
For example, the side effects of drugs aren’t side effects; they’re effects. Some of these effects are wanted. But all the other effects that happen, such as weight gain, agitation, or migraines from anti-anxiety medication, are unwanted. And they are still effects of the drug. Side effects of drugs are indications that we have failed to understand the implications of messing with complex systems entirely.
Sometimes this might be warranted. The system might be so far out of bounds that it could kill you unless we intervene. Sometimes the drug is more specific–if you don’t have a thyroid, you need thyroid hormone. However, does the thyroid have a role beyond simply producing T4 (thyroid medication)? While thyroid hormone medication might be indicated or necessary, is it fully completing the thyroid’s function in the complex system? What about T3? (or T1 and T2)? What about iodine? What about the driver contributing to thyroid dysfunction? Is it still driving disease? Might it start to create other symptoms elsewhere in the body?
In other words, have we entirely dealt with the problem when we reduce thyroid dysfunction down to deficiency of a single hormone?
So, I explain to my patient; there isn’t a cause of autoimmune disease or a thyroid condition. There are drivers, such as chronic inflammation (which might be triggered by a specific food your immune system doesn’t like). There might be a driver like chronic stress triggered by a more stressful event. Genes can be drivers or susceptibilities triggered by environmental factors, such as nutrient deficiencies. So, it’s not gluten that caused your thyroid issue, but it might start or driveimmune system overactivation and chronic inflammation, contributing to the problem.
So what does this mean for treatment? It means we need to look at the ball of yarn respectfully. We need to appreciate how many symptoms are a healthy response and compensation by the body. If we randomly attack a symptom like fatigue with a stimulant, we might further drive the inflammation, nutrient deficiencies, or stress that underly that symptom. We need to understand what the body lacks (what’s it deficient in?) and when it might have too many environmental toxins, allergens, chronic stress, blue light, etc.
We need to look at the system and help it re-establish its equilibrium. Cleaning up garbage in a pond is likely a good idea–it probably shouldn’t be there in the first place. The pond didn’t create the trash. But what about something else we don’t want, like an algae overgrowth? But if we throw an algaecide in the water, what unseen harm might we be doing to the pond’s ecosystem if we mess with it? Has the pond created algae for the reason that currently escapes us, but wouldn’t if we looked a little deeper?
Why doesn’t our modern medical model treat our bodies as complex systems? I’m not sure. A few guesses, though. Complex systems are complicated, if not impossible, to understand. They require time to unravel. They need patience and education. They require effort on the part of the patient to try to shift their environment to eliminate or adjust possible triggers. They are impossibly hard to market and profit from.
Getting our concept of a complex system “right” can take time. It might take trial and error, collecting information, curiosity, and a willingness to try. It might take admitting that our culture has many aspects to it that are inherently unhealthy.
We might have to find a mini culture where people get sun, eat well, move, and sleep early to support our health. We might have to be “stricter” than the people around us. These people may have similar drivers working below the surface, but their symptoms may look different. They do not display symptoms like fatigue or anxiety until their systems have completely shifted beyond balance.
We are all a manifestation of complex systems. Laini Taylor says, “Inside each of us, there is a world that no one else can ever know or see or visit.”
“There’s a sunrise and a sunset every day and you can choose to be there or not. “You can put yourself in the way of beauty.” – Cheryl Strayed, Wild Yellow and orange hues stimulate melatonin production, aiding sleep. Melatonin is not just our sleep hormone, it’s an antioxidant and has been studied for its positive mood, hormonal, immune, anti-cancer, and digestive system effects. Our bodies have adjusted to respond to the light from 3 billion sunsets. While we can take melatonin in supplement form, use blue light blocking glasses, or use red hued light filters and, while tech can certainly help us live more healthfully, it’s important to remember that the best bio-hack is simply to remember your heritage and put yourself back in nature’s way. The best tech of all is in the natural rhythms of the planet and encoded in your beautiful DNA. Optimal health is about re-wilding. Optimal health is about remembering who you are and coming back to your true nature. You have the code within in you to live your best, healthiest life. I believe healing is about tapping into that code, supporting our nature, and allowing the light of our optimal health template to shine through.
The proximity to water can improve focus, creativity, health and professional success according to marine biologist and surfer Wallace J. Nichols in his book, Blue Mind. A “blue mind” describes a neurological state of of calm centredness. Being around water heightens involuntary attention, where external stimuli capture our attention, generating a mind that is open, and expansive, and neurochemicals like dopamine and serotonin are released. He says, “This is flow state, where we lose track of time, nothing else seems to matter, and we truly seem alive and at our best”. Contrast a blue mind to a red mind, where neurons release stress chemicals like norepinephrine, cortisol in response to stress, anxiety and fear. From the book Mindfulness and Surfing:
“Surfing is not just about riding a wave, but immersion in nature: the aching silence of a calm sea is punctuated by a cluster of blue lines. The point is to spend a little more time looking and listening than doing.
“Maybe this is not just about being but about what the philosopher Heidegger called “becoming”–a being in time, an unfolding sense of what he further called ‘dwelling’.
“When we dwell, we inhabit.”
Jungian Psychoanalyst, Frances Weller posed the question, “What calls you so fully into the world other than beauty?” In other words, “Without beauty what is it that attracts us into life?” Our human affinity for beauty is perhaps the greatest pull of all into aliveness. And yet so many of us feel purposeless, or that life is meaningless. In our world we are suffering from a “Meaning Crisis”, which perhaps partially explains the epidemic of mental health issues that plague us. We spend so much time bogged down in the business of being alive: bills, chores, work–“dotting Ts and crossing Is” as I like say 😂 This is part of the reason why 1/6th of my 6-week Mental Health Foundations program (Good Mood Foundations) involves getting into nature. For there is nothing more beautiful than the gorgeous imperfection of the natural world. We are called by it. There are myriad scientific studies on the power of “Forest Bathing” for de-stressing, for mental health, for supporting our mood, hormonal health, immune systems, social relationships, and so on. And yet so often when we say words like “beauty” we call on images of “perfection”: symmetrical youthful faces, bodies with zero fat on them, etc.
We are focused on the missing parts instead of how the effect of nature’s imperfect beauty has on us–and thus we rob ourselves of the pleasure of being in the presence of beauty. For what is pleasure but beauty personified? And what is depression other than a lack of deep, embodied soulful pleasure? I find being in nature brings me closer, not so much to beauty as a concept of commercial idealism, but a sense of pleasure. It pulls me into my body.
I feel my feet on the ground, my breath timing my steps, the birdsong and wind in my ears, and I feel calmed, and centred, called into the experience of being fully alive.
If you’re struggling to find meaning, practice showing up to your sunsets for a few evenings in a row.
Put yourself in the way of beauty. When the sunsets show up everyday, will you show up too?
It’s day one of my period and I’ve been healing a broken foot for 6 weeks. The weather is overcast, thick, humid and rainy.
My body feels thick and heavy. Clothing leaves an imprint on my skin–socks leave deep indentations in my ankles. My face and foot is swollen. My tongue feels heavy. My mind feels dull, achey, and foggy. It’s hard to put coherent words together.
I feel cloudy and sleepy. Small frustrations magnify. It’s hard to maintain perspective.
My muscles ache. My joints throb slightly. They feel stiffer and creakier.
This feeling is transient. The first few days of the menstrual cycle are characterized by an increase in prostaglandins that stimulate menstrual flow and so many women experience an aggravation of inflammatory symptoms like depression, arthritis, or autoimmune conditions around this time. You might get. a cold sore outbreak, or a migraine headache around this time of month. The phenomenon can be exaggerated with heavy, humid weather, and chronic inflammation–such as the prolonged healing process of mending a broken bone.
Inflammation.
It’s our body’s beautiful healing response, bringing water, nutrients, and immune cells to an area of injury or attack. The area involved swells, heats up, becomes red, and might radiate pain. And then, within a matter of days, weeks, or months, the pathogen is neutralized, the wound heals and the inflammatory process turns off, like a switch.
However, inflammation can be low-grade and chronic. Many chronic health conditions such as diabetes, arthritis, PMS or PMDD, depression, anxiety, migraines, even bowel and digestive issues, have an inflammatory component.
In the quest to manage chronic inflammation, people often explore various avenues, including dietary supplements. One such natural option gaining attention is OrganicCBDNugs. Derived from the hemp plant, CBD, or cannabidiol, is believed to possess anti-inflammatory properties, potentially offering relief to those struggling with conditions like arthritis, anxiety, or migraines.
This organic supplement, with its purported ability to interact with the body’s endocannabinoid system, might provide a holistic approach to tackling inflammation-related issues. As we navigate the complexities of our bodies and the ebb and flow of inflammation, exploring natural remedies like Organic CBD could be a step toward finding equilibrium and promoting overall well-being.
As I telly my patients. Inflammation is “everything that makes you feel bad”. Therefore anti-inflammatory practices make you feel good.
Many of us don’t realize how good we can feel because low-grade inflammation is our norm.
We just know that things could be better: we could feel more energy, more lightness of being and body, more uplifted, optimistic mood, clearer thinking and cognitive functioning, better focus, less stiffness and less swelling.
Obesity and weight gain are likely inflammatory processes. Insulin resistance and metabolic syndrome are inflammatory in nature. It’s hard to distinguish between chronic swelling and water retention due to underlying low-grade chronic inflammation and actual fat gain, and the two can be closely intertwined.
It’s unfortunate then, that weight loss is often prescribed as a treatment plan for things like hormonal imbalances, or other conditions caused by metabolic imbalance. Not only has the individual probably already made several attempts to lose weight, the unwanted weight gain is most likely a symptom, rather than a cause, of their chronic health complaint. (Learn how to get to the root of this with my course You Weigh Less on the Moon).
Both the main complaint (the migraines, the PMS, the endometriosis, the depression, the arthritis, etc.) and the weight gain, are likely due to an inflammatory process occurring in the body.
To simply try to cut calories, or eat less, or exercise more (which can be helpful for inflammation or aggravate it, depending on the level of stress someone is under), can only exacerbate the process by creating more stress and inflammation and do nothing to relieve the root cause of the issues at hand.
Even anti-inflammatory over the counter medications like Advil, prescription ones like naproxen, or natural supplements like turmeric (curcumin) have limiting effects. They work wonderfully if the inflammation is self-limiting: a day or two of terrible period cramps, or a migraine headache. However, they do little to resolve chronic low-grade inflammation. If anything they only succeed at temporarily suppressing it only to have it come back with a vengeance.
The issue then, is to uncover the root of the inflammation, and if the specific root can’t be found (like the piece of glass in your foot causing foot pain), then applying a general anti-inflammatory lifestyle is key.
The first place to start is with the gut and nutrition.
Nutrition is at once a complex, confusing, contradictory science and a very simple endeavour. Nutrition was the simplest thing for hundreds of thousands of years: we simply ate what tasted good. We ate meat, fish and all the parts of animals. We ate ripe fruit and vegetables and other plant matter that could be broken down with minimal processing.
That’s it.
We didn’t eat red dye #3, and artificial sweeteners, and heavily modified grains sprayed with glyphosate, and heavily processed flours, and seed oils that require several steps of solvent extraction. We didn’t eat modified corn products, or high fructose corn syrup, or carbonated drinks that are artificially coloured and taste like chemicals.
We knew our food—we knew it intimately because it was grown, raised, or hunted by us or someone we knew—and we knew where it came from.
Now we have no clue. And this onslaught of random food stuffs can wreck havoc on our systems over time. Our bodies are resilient and you probably know someone who apparently thrives on a diet full of random edible food-like products, who’s never touched a vegetable and eats waffles for lunch.
However, our capacity to heal and live without optimal nutrition, regular meals that nourish us and heal us rather than impose another adversity to overcome, can diminish when we start adding in environmental chemicals and toxins, mental and emotional stress, a lack of sleep, and invasion of blue light at all hours of the day, bodies that are prevented from experiencing their full range of motion, and so on.
And so to reduce inflammation, we have to start living more naturally. We need to reduce the inflammation in our environments. We need to put ourselves against a natural backdrop–go for a soothing walk in nature at least once a week.
We need to eat natural foods. Eat meats, natural sustainably raised and regeneratively farmed animal products, fruits and vegetables. Cook your own grains and legumes (i.e.: process your food yourself). Avoid random ingredients (take a look at your oat and almond milk–what’s in the ingredients list? Can you pronounce all the ingredients in those foods? Can you guess what plant or animal each of those ingredients came from? Have you ever seen a carageenan tree?).
Moving to a more natural diet can be hard. Sometimes results are felt immediately. Sometimes our partners notice a change in us before we notice in ourselves (“Hon, every time you have gluten and sugar, don’t you notice you’re snappier the next day, or are more likely to have a meltdown?”).
It often takes making a plan–grocery shopping, making a list of foods you’re going to eat and maybe foods you’re not going to eat, coming up with some recipes, developing a few systems for rushed nights and take-out and snacks–and patience.
Often we don’t feel better right away–it takes inflammation a while to resolve and it takes the gut time to heal. I notice that a lot of my patients are addicted to certain chemicals or ingredients in processed foods and, particularly if they’re suffering from the pain of gut inflammation, it can tempting to go back to the chemicals before that helped numb the pain and delivered the dopamine hit of pleasure that comes from dealing with an addiction. It might help to remember your why. Stick it on the fridge beside your smoothie recipe.
We need to sleep, and experience darkness. If you can’t get your bedroom 100%-can’t see you hand in front of your face-dark, then use an eye mask when sleeping. Give your body enough time for sleep. Less than 7 hours isn’t enough.
We need to move in all sorts of ways. Dance. Walk. Swim. Move in 3D. Do yoga to experience the full range of motion of your joints. Practice a sport that requires your body and mind, that challenges your skills and coordination. Learn balance both in your body and in your mind.
We need to manage our emotional life. Feeling our emotions, paying attention to the body sensations that arise in our bodies—what does hunger feel like? What does the need for a bowel movement feel like? How does thirst arise in your body? Can you recognize those feelings? What about your emotions? What sensations does anger produce? Can you feel anxiety building? What do you do with these emotions once they arise? Are you afraid of them? Do you try to push them back down? Do you let them arise and “meet them at the door laughing” as Rumi says in his poem The Guest House?
Journalling, meditation, mindfulness, hypnosis, breath-work, art, therapy, etc. can all be helpful tools for understanding the emotional life and understanding the role chronic stress (and how it arises, builds, and falls in the body) and toxic thoughts play in perpetuating inflammation.
Detox. No, I don’t mean go on some weird cleanse or drinks teas that keep you on the toilet all day. What I mean is: remove the gunk and clutter from your physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional plumbing. This might look like taking a tech break. Or going off into the woods for a weekend. Eating animals and plants for a couple of months, cutting out alcohol, or coffee or processed foods for a time.
It might involve cleaning your house with vinegar and detergents that are mostly natural ingredients, dumping the fragrances from your cosmetics and cleaning products, storing food in steel and glass, rather than plastic. It might mean a beach clean-up. Or a purging of your closet–sometimes cleaning up the chaos in our living environments is the needed thing for reducing inflammation. It’s likely why Marie Kondo-ing and the Minimalist Movement gained so much popularity–our stuff can add extra gunk to our mental, emotional, and spiritual lives.
Detoxing isn’t just a trendy buzzword; it’s about fostering clarity and wellness in every aspect of our lives, including our living spaces. A clean, organized home can significantly contribute to a healthier mindset and emotional balance. That’s where Clean 4 You comes in, offering a fresh perspective on home cleaning that goes beyond mere tidiness.
They understand that clutter and grime can weigh heavily on our mental and emotional states, which is why they provide services tailored to create an environment that supports your detox journey. By enlisting the help of professionals, you can focus on nurturing yourself while they take care of transforming your space into a sanctuary.
If you’re seeking assistance specifically designed for individuals with unique needs, the NDIS Cleaner Perth service from Clean 4 You is here to help. This dedicated team is trained to cater to the requirements of those on the National Disability Insurance Scheme, ensuring that every client receives the support they need for a clean and safe living environment.
With a commitment to using eco-friendly products and methods, Clean 4 You allows you to detox your home in a way that aligns with your values, providing peace of mind as you embrace a healthier lifestyle. With their expertise, you can achieve a pristine space that not only looks good but feels good, allowing you to focus on your personal wellness journey.
Finally, connect with your community. Loneliness is inflammatory. And this past year and a half have been very difficult, particularly for those of you who live alone, who are in transition, who aren’t in the place you’d like to be, or with the person or people you’d like to be–your soul family.
It takes work to find a soul family. I think the first steps are to connect and attune to oneself, to truly understand who you are and move toward that and in that way people can slowly trickle in.
We often need to take care of ourselves first, thereby establishing the boundaries and self-awareness needed to call in the people who will respect and inspire us the most. It’s about self-worth. How do you treat yourself as someone worthy of love and belonging?
Perhaps it first comes with removing the sources of inflammation from our lives, so we can address the deeper layers of our feelings and body sensations and relieve the foggy heaviness and depression and toxic thoughts that might keep us feeling stuck.
Once we clear up our minds and bodies, and cool the fires of inflammation, we start to see better—the fog lifts. We start to think more clearly. We know who we are. Our cravings subside. We can begin to process our shame, anger and sadness.
We start to crave nourishing things: the walk in nature, the quiet afternoon writing poetry, the phone call with a friend, the stewed apples with cinnamon (real sweetness). We free up our dopamine receptors for wholesome endeavours. We start to move in the direction of our own authenticity. I think this process naturally attracts people to us. And naturally attracts us to the people who have the capacity to love and accept us the way we deserve.
Once we start to build community, especially an anti-inflammatory community—you know, a non-toxic, nourishing, wholesome group of people who make your soul sing, the path becomes easier.
You see, when you are surrounded by people who live life the way you do–with a respect for nature, of which our bodies are apart–who prioritize sleep, natural nutrition, mental health, movement, emotional expression, and self-exploration, it becomes more natural to do these things. It no longer becomes a program or a plan, or a process you’re in. It becomes a way of life–why would anyone do it any other way?
The best way to overcome the toxicity of a sick society is to create a parallel one.
When you’re surrounded by people who share your values. You no longer need to spend as much energy fighting cravings, going against the grain, or succumbing to self-sabotage, feeling isolated if your stray from the herb and eat vegetables and go to sleep early.
You are part of a culture now. A culture in which caring for yourself and living according to your nature is, well… normal and natural.
There’s nothing to push against or detox from. You can simply rest in healing, because healing is the most natural thing there is.
Whenever I sit with a new patient for an initial intake, I ask about cravings.
From my many conversations about food, appetite and cravings, the most common responses are cravings for salt, or sugar, with many people falling on one end of the preference than the other: “I’m a salt craver” or “I’ve got a sweet tooth”.
However, cravings are so much more than that.
I believe that they are a beautifully intricate process, in which our body is trying to speak to us about what it needs.
Our bodies have developed taste receptors to detect quality nutrients from the environment. While these days sugar is abundant wherever you turn, during our hunter-gatherer times, it was a relatively scarce and highly sought after taste–the taste of ripe fruit, rich with nutrients, the taste of quality calories from carbohydrates, which may have been scarce in times of food shortage or famine.
Salt or “savoury” or umami cravings, often represent a need for more protein. Unfortunately, many of my patients who crave salt (and often calories) find themselves the bottom of a bag of chips, rather than grilling up a chicken breast.
Our modern environment doesn’t necessarily set us up to adequately translate and respond properly to certain cravings. Salted chips were probably not a thing in a natural environment and the only way to satisfy a salt and savoury craving would have been through hunting, consuming meat, or eggs and poultry.
When I was travelling in Colombia I was obsessed with broccoli–it was like I couldn’t get enough of it.
The same thing happened on a month-long trip to Brazil in 2019. Broccoli is rich in vitamin C, sulphur, and certain amino acids. It’s also a decent source of calcium. I’m not sure what nutrient I may have been lacking on my travels, but it’s possible that those cravings meant something for my body. And so I honoured them–I sought out broccoli like it was a magic elixir of health and ate as much of it as I could.
After developing significant iron deficiency after spending a few years as a vegetarian, I became suddenly attracted by the smell of roasting chicken from a local Korean restaurant I was passing by while walking the streets of Toronto.
The wafting smell of roasting poultry was majestic and impossible to ignore. It didn’t smell like sin, or temptation–my body betraying my moral sensibilities or whatever else we often accuse our cravings of—it smelt… like health.
There was no doubt in my mind as the delicious fumes touched my nostrils that I needed to honour my body and start eating meat again. I did and my health and nutrient status has never been better.
Patients will report craving carbs and chocolate the week before their period. The eb and flow of estrogen can affect serotonin levels. A large dose of carbs allows tryptophan, the amino acid that forms the backbone of serotonin, to freely enter the brain. This explains the effect “comfort foods” like starchy warm bread and pasta have on us, creating that warm, after-Thanksgiving dinner glow.
Chocolate is rich in magnesium, a nutrient in which many of us are deficient, that is in higher demand throughout the luteal phase of our cycle, or our premenstrual week.
Cravings are not just nagging, annoying vices, thrust in the path to greater health and iron discipline. They’re complex, intuitive and beautiful. They may be important landmarks on the path to true health and wellness.
Disciplines like Intuitive Eating and Mindful Eating have based themselves on the idea that our bodies hold intuitive wisdom and our tastes, cravings and appetites may be essential for guiding us on a road to health. Through removing restriction and paying more attention to the experience of food, we may be better guided to choose what foods are right for us.
The book The Dorito Effect outlines how our taste cues have been hijacked by Big Food. Like having a sham translator, processed foods stand between essential nutrients and the signals our bodies use to guide us to them. A craving for sweet that might have led you to ripe fruit, now leads you to a bag of nutrient-devoid candy that actually robs you of magnesium, and other nutrients in order to process the chemicals. A craving for salt and umami, or hunger for calories leads you to polish off a bag of chips, which are protein-devoid and laden with inflammatory fats, and only trigger more cravings, and shame.
It’s no wonder that we don’t trust our cravings– we live in a world that exploits them at every turn.
Clara Davis in 1939 was curious about the instintual nature of human cravings and devised a study that was published in the Canadian Medical Assoication Journal (CMAJ). The study was called Self-Selection of Diets by Young Children.
Clara gathered together 15 orphaned infants between 6 to 11 months of age who were weaning from breast-feeding and ready to receive solid food for the first time. These infants, before the study had never tried solid food or supplements. They were studied ongoing for a period of 6 years, with the main study process was conducted over a period of months.
The babies were sat at a table with a selection of simple, whole foods–33 to be exact. The foods contained no added sugars or salt. They were minimally cooked. Not all 33 were presented to each baby at each meal, however the babies were offered an opportunity to try everything.
The foods they were offered were water, sweet milk, sour (lactic) milk, sea salt, apples, bananas, orange juice, pineapple, peaches, tomatoes, beets, carrots, peas, turnips, cauliflower, cabbage, spinach, potato, lettuce, oatmeal, wheat, corn meal, barley, Ry-krisp (a kind of cereal), beef, lamb, bone marrow, bone jelly, chicken, sweetbreads, brains, liver, kidneys, eggs, and fish (haddock).
The nurses who were involved in running the study were instructed to sit in front of the infants with a spoon and wait for them to point at foods that they wanted. The nurses were not to comment on the choices or foods in any way, but wordlessly comply with the infants’ wishes and offer them a spoonful of the chosen foodstuff.
Throughout the study Davis noted that all the infants had hearty appetites and enjoyed eating.
At first, the babies showed no instinct for food choices, selecting things at random, and exploring the various foods presented to them. All of them tried everything at least once (two babies never tried lettuce and one never explored spinach). The most variety of food choices occurred during the first two weeks of the study when they were presumably in their experimentation phase.
Their tastes also changed from time to time, perhaps reflecting some hidden, internal mechanism, growth spurt or nutritional need. Sometimes a child would have orange juice and liver for breakfast (liver is a source of iron, and vitamin C from the orange juice aids in its absorption), and dinner could be something like eggs, bananas, and milk.
Many infants began the study in a state of malnourishment. Four were underweight and five suffered from Rickets a condition caused by extremely low vitamin D. One of the babies with severe Rickets was offered cod liver oil in addition to the other food options. Cod liver oil is a rich source of vitamin D.
The infant selected cod liver oil often for a while, after which his vitamin D, phosphorus and calcium blood levels all returned to normal range, and x-rays showed that his Ricket’s healed.
It is often thought by parents that children, if left to their own devices will eat themselves nutrient-deficient. While that may be true in todays’ landscape of processed frankenfoods, the infants in Davis’ study consumed a diet that was balanced and high in variety. They got 17% of their calories from protein, 35% from fat and 48% from carbohydrates and intake depended on their activity levels.
During the 6 years in which the infants’ eating habits were under observation, they rarely suffered from health issues. They had no digestive issues, like constipation. If they came down with a cold it would last no more than 3 days before they were fully recovered.
In the 6 years, they became ill with a fever only once, an outbreak that affected all of the infants in the orphanage. The researchers noticed their appetites change in response to the illness.
During the initial stages of the fever, they had lower appetites. And, once the fevers began to resolve, their appetites came back with a vengeance. They ate voraciously, and it was interesting that most of them showed an increased preference for raw carrots, beef and beets–which may indicate a need for vitamin A, iron and protein, which are needed for immune system function and recovery.
The habits of the infants to crave and select medicinal foods during times of fever and nutrient deficiency is such compelling evidence of Clara Davis’ craving wisdom hypothesis—were their bodies telling them what they needed to heal?
The self-selected, whole foods diets seems to have a positive impact on the mood and behaviours of the babies, all of whom were living full-time at the orphanage.
A psychiatrist, Dr. Joseph Brennemann wrote an article on them entitled “Psychologic Aspects of Nutrition” in the Journal of Pediatrics on their mood, behaviour and affect, “I saw them on a number of occasions and they were the finest group of specimens from the physical and behaviour standpoint that I have even seen in children of that age.”
In our world we often try to mentalize our food choices: going vegan or low-fat, counting calories, or reducing carbs. We time our eating windows, fast, or try to exert discipline and will over our bodies’ inherent desires.
So often my patients need to be coached through food eliminations, or given meal plans and templates. The art of listening to the body: properly identifying hunger, thirst, fatigue, inflammation, and even emotions like boredom, anxiety, sadness, anger, and hurt, can be a long process.
And yet, I wonder if we clear our palates and offer them a variety of whole, unprocessed, fresh foods, if our bodies will settle into their own grooves–perhaps our health will optimize, our bodies will be able to more readily communicate what they need, our taste receptors and cravings will adjust, and our cravings and appetite will serve the purpose they were meant to–to tell us what we need more of and what need less of or not at all.
I wonder if we listen, what our bodies will tell us.
I wonder if we let them, if our bodies will exhibit the pure instinctual wisdom of nature and the quest for harmony and homeostasis that lies at the heart of our natural world.
About a month ago I fractured my right 5th metatarsal (an avulsion fracture, aka “The Dancer’s Fracture” or a “Pseudo-Jones Fracture”).
As soon as I laid eyes on the x-ray and the ER doctor declared, “Ms. Marcheggiani,” (actually, it’s doctor, but ok) “you broke your foot!” things changed.
I have never broken anything before, but if you have you know what it’s like. In a matter of seconds I couldn’t drive. I could barely put weight on it. I was given an Aircast boot to hobble around in, and told to ice and use anti-inflammatories sparingly. My activities: surfing, skateboarding, yoga, even my daily walks, came to a startling halt.
I spent the first few days on the couch, my foot alternating between being elevated in the boot and immersed in an ice bath. I took a tincture with herbs like Solomon’s Seal, mullein, comfrey, and boneset to help heal the bone faster. I was adding about 6 tbs of collagen to oats in the morning. I was taking a bone supplement with microcrystalline hydroxyapatite, pellets of homeopathic symphytum, zinc, and vitamin D.
We call this “treatment stacking”: throwing everything but the kitchen sink at something to give the body as many resources as possible that it may use to heal.
My brother’s wedding came and went. I was the emcee, and the best man. I bedazzled my boot and hobbled around during set-up, photos, presentations, and even tried shaking and shimmying, one-legged on the dance floor. The next few days I sat on the couch with my leg up.
I watched the Olympics and skateboarding videos. I read The Master and the Margarita and Infinite Jest. I got back into painting and created some pen drawings, trying to keep my mind busy.
I slept long hours–an amount that I would have previously assumed to be incapable. The sleep felt necessary and healing. I was taking melatonin to deepen it further.
I closed down social media apps on my phone to deal with the immense FOMO and stop mindlessly scrolling. I journaled instead, turning my focus from the outside world to my inner one.
It was a painful process, and not necessarily physically.
I was confined to my immediate surroundings–not able to walk far or drive. I was at the mercy of friends and family to help me grocery shop. The last year and a half has made many of us grow accustomed to social isolation and a lot of my social routines from years prior had fallen by the wayside.
My world, like the worlds of many, had gotten smaller over the last 18 months. With a broken foot, my world shrunk even further.
The loneliness was excruciating.
It would come in waves.
One moment I would relish the time spent idle and unproductive. The next I would be left stranded by my dopamine receptors, aimless, sobbing, grieving something… anything… from my previous life. And perhaps not just the life I had enjoyed pre-broken foot, but maybe a life before society had “broken”, or even before my heart had.
I thought I would be more mentally productive and buckle down on work projects but it became painfully obvious that my mental health and general productivity are tightly linked to my activity levels. And so I spent a lot of the weeks letting my bone heal in a state of waiting energy.
My best friend left me a voicemail that said, “Yes… you’re in that waiting energy. But, you know, something will come out of it. Don’t be hard on yourself. Try to enjoy things… watch George Carlin…”
During the moments where I feel completely useless and unproductive, waiting for life to begin, I was reminded of this quote by Cheryl Strayed. This quote speaks to me through the blurry, grey haze of boredom and the existential urgency of wasting time.
It says,
“The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.”
These things are your becoming.
Something will come out of it.
When I did a 10-Day Vipassana (silent meditation) retreat in the summer of 2018, I learned about pain.
It was Day 3 or 4 and we had been instructed to sit for an entire hour without moving. The pain was excruciating. The resistance was intense. I was at war with myself and then, when the gong went off and there was nothing to push against, I noticed a complete relief of tension. I was fine.
The next time I sat to meditate (another hour after a 10 minute break), I observed the resistance and released it. It’s hard to describe exactly what I did. It was something like, letting the sensations of pain flow through me like leaves on a river, rather than trying to cup my hands around them, or understand or making meaning out of them.
The sensations ebbed and flowed. Some might have been called “unpleasant” but I wasn’t in a space to judge them while I was just a casual observer, watching them flow by. They just were.
And when I have intense feelings of loneliness, boredom or heart-break I try to remember the experience I had with pain and discomfort on my meditation cushion. I try to allow them.
“This too shall pass”.
When I have a craving to jump off my couch and surf, or an intense restlessness in the rest of my body, the parts that aren’t broken, I try to let those sensations move through me.
I notice how my foot feels. How while apparently still, beneath my external flesh my body is busy: it’s in a process. It’s becoming something different than it was before. It’s becoming more than a foot that is unbroken. It’s becoming callused and perhaps stronger.
Maybe my spirit is in such a process as well.
The antidote to boredom and loneliness very often is a process of letting them move through, of observing the sensations and stepped back, out of the river to watch them flow by. A patience. Letting go.
I can’t surf today. But, it is the nature of waves that there will always be more.
Pima Chodron in her book When Things Fall Apart also references physical pain and restless in meditation while speaking of loneliness.
She writes,
“Usually we regard loneliness as the enemy. Heartache is not something we choose to invite in. It’s restless and pregnant and hot with desire to escape and find something or someone to keep us company. When we can rest in the middle, we begin to have a nonthreatening relationship with loneliness, a relaxing and cooling loneliness that completely turns our usual fearful patterns upside down.”
She continues,
“When you wake up in the morning and out of nowhere comes the heartache of alienation and loneliness, could you use that as a golden opportunity? Rather than persecuting yourself or feeling that something terribly wrong is happening, right there in the moment of sadness and longing, could you relax and touch the limitless space of the human heart?
“The next time you get a chance, experiment with this.”
“The right to determine what shall or shall not be done with one’s own body, and to be free from non-consensual medical treatment is a right deeply rooted in Canadian common law. The right underlines the doctrine of informed consent.
“With very limited exceptions (such emergency use or incapacity), every person’s body is considered inviolate and accordingly every competent adult has the right to be free from unwanted medical treatment.
“The fact that serious risks or consequences may result from a refusal of medical treatment does not vititate the right of medical self-determination.
“The doctrine of informed consent ensures the freedom of individuals to make choices about their medical care. It is the patient, not the physician (or others) who ultimately must decide if treatment–any treatment–is to be administered.” Justice Robbins of the Ontario Court of Appeal.
I deeply believe that the key to optimal health is taking full responsibility and accepting all personal power for one’s own health. This may involve doing research, educating oneself, or assembling a team of trusted health professionals, with you, the patient at the centre.
We have a busy and overloaded healthcare system and even well-meaning professionals can find themselves hurriedly having a conversation in which they are not properly informing patients of the risks and benefits, or alternatives to treatment that they are recommending. I have had patients hurriedly scheduling for surgeries they weren’t sure they wanted, or pressured into hysterectomies or long-term treatments whose risks they didn’t understand.
I have also had patients make perplexing choices in the name of their own care–choices I didn’t necessarily agree with, such as forgoing conventional cancer treatments or further testing or screening.
However, it is the duty of the healthcare provider to provide advice. And it is the right of every patient to accept or reject that advice.
In light of recent, disturbing events, I have started posting some facts on Canadian law and Informed Consent only to be met with surprise–many people are not aware of their rights to refuse medical treatment, to be informed of the risks, and to be allowed to make a choice free of pressure or coercion.
Despite it being deeply enshrined in Canadian law, many patients are not aware of their right to full bodily integrity, autonomy, and choice.
Since 1980, the Supreme Court of Canada made it the right of every patient to be given full informed consent before any medical procedure such as taking blood, giving an injection or vaccination, performing a physical examination, exposing the patient to radiation, and so on.
“The underlying principle is the right of a patient to decide what, if anything, should be done with his body.” Is quote from the famous Supreme Court case of Hopp v. Lepp.
Every health professional under the Regulated Health Professions Act, including naturopathic doctors has a duty to uphold informed consent. We are well versed in it. We are required to uphold it, document it, and maintain it with every patient we see.
Our naturopathic guidelines on consent state, “The ability to direct one’s own health care needs and treatment is vital to an individual’s personal dignity and autonomy. A key component of dignity and autonomy is choice. Regulated health professionals hold a position of trust and power with respect to their patients and can often exercise influence over a patient; however, decision-making power must always rest with the patient.”
In 1996 Ontario passed the Health Care Consent Act, a legal framework for documenting, communicating, establishing and maintaining informed consent in all healthcare settings.
Informed consent is required before all treatment can be administered. Treatment includes: “anything that is done for a therapeutic, preventive, palliative, diagnostic, cosmetic or other health-related purpose, and includes a course of treatment, plan of treatment or community treatment plan.”
Informed consent must be present in 4 key areas:
The consent must relate to the treatment.
The consent must be informed.
The consent must be given voluntarily, i.e.: made by the patient, and under no coercion, pressure, or duress.
The consent must not be obtained through misrepresentation or fraud.
In order to obtain your full informed consent, you must be given the following information:
The nature of the treatment.
The expected benefits of the treatment.
The material risks of the treatment, no matter how small, especially if one of the risks of side effects is death. The risks should not be minimized for the purpose of influencing your decision-making. The risks should be in relation to your health history. For example, if you suffer from cardiovascular disease, you should be made aware of the the risk of blood clots or myocarditis. It should also be disclosed if certain risks remain unknown.
The material side effects of the treatment. Again, these side effects should be explicitly stated, no matter how small, and if long-term side effects are unknown, that should be stated.
Alternative courses of action.
The likely consequences of not having the treatment. These consequences should not be exaggerated and must be related to the particular patient at hand. What is the actual risk of the patient not receiving the treatment?
Consent cannot be given in a state of duress or coercion. Healthcare providers must be aware that they hold a position of authority and may maintain a power imbalance. They must not misrepresent the benefits of the treatment, and they must disclose any conflict of interest.
Healthcare providers must ensure that patients are not acting under the pressures of someone else, such as an employer, government agency or family member, and are making this decision on their own.
Finally,
The Informed Consent Guide for Canadian Physicians states, “Patients must always be free to consent to or refuse treatment, and be free of any suggestion of duress or coercion. Consent obtained under any suggestion of compulsion either by the actions or words of the physician or others may be no consent at all and therefore may be successfully repudiated. In this context physicians must keep clearly in mind there may be circumstances when the initiative to consult a physician was not the patient’s but was rather that of a third party, a friend, an employer, or even a police officer.
“Under such circumstances, the physician may be well aware that the paitent is only very reluctantly following the course of action suggested or insisted upon by a third person. Then, physicians should be more than usually careful to assure themselves that patients are in full agreement with what has been suggested, that there has been no coercion and that the will of other persons has not been imposed on the patient”.
It is your body and it is your choice. You always have the right to do what’s best for you. True, empowered health cannot come from a place of coercion or pressure.
Know that you always have a choice–your doctor has a duty to inform you of your choice, as well as the information necessary for you to make the right choice for you, regardless of what is happening in the media or in politics.
I was sitting with my friend and her ex-partner. Their kids are soccer stars–one is headed towards a professional career and the younger one is not far behind.
My friends ex-partner, a fit soccer fan himself, lamented, “I’m getting old. I don’t recover like I used to. I’m not as fast as I used to be. I feel more sore after a game of soccer now in my 40s than when I was in my teens and 20s. Getting old sucks.”
“When you were younger you played soccer everyday,” my friend retorted. “Is it that you’re getting old or is that, as an adult, you have more obligations and responsibilities than you did when you were in your teens and yet expect yourself to be able to pick up the sport and play once a week as hard as when you were playing everyday?”
We blame old age on everything in our society.
I’m tired of “you’re getting older” being the main throwaway diagnosis of my friends, family, and patients’ sliding health and fitness. Kelly Slater is almost 50–he plans to keep surfing into his 70s. I’ll bet he can, too.
Coco is like 70 in dog years and climbs steep hills and races and chases and bites (with the 5 teeth he has left) like a puppy.
As adults, I think we need to take responsibility for our bodies and take our range of motion, flexibility and strength seriously if we’d like to retain the physical mobility of our youth. It’s not your age—it’s what your age means to your movement patterns that will dictate your injury susceptibility, your recovery, your progress in your sport of choice, and your overall fitness and health.
I’ve been thinking about this lately because I’ve been taking my surf training a bit more seriously this year.
Surfing is an incredibly difficult sport. Tiny increments in progression happen over years, not months. Going from a beginner (which I would classify myself as: an advanced beginner) to an intermediate surfer is a timeline of almost daily sessions for at least a couple of years.
I’ve been surfing for two years and still have massive leaps and bounds to go before I’d classify my skills as “intermediate”.
Because the lakes don’t offer as much consistency as the ocean, I figured I wasn’t going to make progress fast enough unless I started to do dry-land training, focusing on physical strength for paddling and speed pumping down the line, and flexibility and mobility to be able to put my body in the positions that the sport demands–this means core strength, glute strength, hip and ankle flexibility and upper body strength.
It also means balance and practicing upper and lower body coordination.
It means I need to practice certain movement patterns on dry land, and train on a surfskate. It means I need to make sure my body has the range of motion necessary to surf, and the joint and muscle health necessary to recover faster, and prevent injury. It’s not fun to get injured as an adult when you have a job to go to that pays the bills.
I dislocated my shoulder at age 20 while snowboarding and it affected my ability to study effectively at university. My shoulder still gives me trouble, particularly if I put it in “backstroke” position, internal rotation and overhead extension– I can feel it slide out, in danger of redislocating. I don’t want another injury in my 30s.
I’ve also been watching the Olympics and thinking of professional surfers like 19-year old Caroline Marks. Her prodigy-like talent comes from a combination of learning the sport early in order to instil proper motor patterns, a competitive spirit, familial encouragement, financial resources, body type (a strong lower body and lower centre of gravity), and amazing coaching.
According to William Finnegan it’s almost impossible to be “any good” at surfing if you start learning after the age of 14.
Damn.
However, learning new movements and teaching your body how to coordinate in new ways does wonders to stave off depression and dementia as well as keep your body strong and supple.
I find focusing on performance in a sport helps with my body image: I focus on how my body looks in its postures and positions while performing the sport vs. the shape of it in general.
I also find the dopamine hits and adrenaline highs are addictive and calming—If I go too long without surfing I feel a bit if ennui-like withdrawal.
I also find that surfing is an amazing way to connect me with a community, with nature, with the lakes and the ocean, and my breath and body.
And I find it satisfying to work towards goals.
As a kid I was fairly athletic but not particularly talented at any competitive sport. I did gymnastics for a second, and played soccer for a number of years. I was on the swim team in high school and taught and coached swimming myself. I am still a strong swimmer but was nothing more than an average racer.
I was on the triathlon team at Queen’s for a couple of years, and had a job as a snowboarding instructor throughout high school. I loved snowboarding during that time until going to school in a relative flat place and suffering an injury drastically reduced the amount of time I was able to spend on the hill.
I’ve been fascinated about the technical aspect of skills I’m interested in acquiring.
I love learning what the optimal stance is and how to position my body to mimic it. I’m interested in learning how to breathe right, which muscles need stretching and which ones need strengthening.
I love the video analyses and the tips from friends on how to improve. I enjoy the struggle and the frustration and the plateaus followed by random bursts of improvement that fill you with giddy excitement. That slam dunk, arms in the air feeling.
When taking a history, I always ask patients about their physical activity levels and their movement patterns.
Many are physically active in order to support their health: walking daily, going to the gym to lift weights or take exercise classes, doing yoga or pilates. But many will tell me that their activity comes mostly from playing sports–they play hockey or golf once a week.
And many of my surfing friends just surf.
That’s fine if you’re like my friend Steve who surfs or skateboards virtually everyday, but if you’re the type of athlete who only has the time or opportunity to engage in your sport once a week or less you’re most likely putting yourself at risk of injury without any dry-land functional training.
Functional movement helps our bodies stay optimally healthy and… well, functional. The functional movements include pushing, pulling, squatting, lunging, twisting, gait, and rotation. We need them to stay mobile and injury free. I read somewhere that most 50 year olds can’t stand in a lunge position.
I know that many people in their 30s can’t sit crosslegged on the floor, or squat. Our hip flexors are tight, our glutes are loose, and our ankles are immobile. We aren’t training our bodies for functional existence, like sitting on the floor and standing up out of a chair without using your hands.
It’s important to stretch daily to prevent muscle and joint injury. It’s important to keep certain muscles strong–like the upper body muscles for paddling. Our bodies weren’t meant to perform repetitive movements on demand after staying locked in a shed for weeks. They need to move regularly and need to stay tuned up to perform the sport of your choice, especially if you’re still interested in progressing at it.
Many sports are asymmetrical as well. This can leave us vulnerable to injury as certain flexors are tighter than their extensors, and so on, putting strain on joints.
Being able to move your body through space, not just linearly, in 2D, like in running or walking, but across all dimensions: front and back and side to side and twisting and jumping and crawling, is important for maintaining proprioception and body awareness.
Open hip flexors (can you do a squat? Can you sit cross-legged on the floor? What about Pigeon Pose?) are important for maintaining optimal back and digestive health.
The glutes are the most metabolically active muscles in the body and for most of us they just lie around flaccid all day as we sit in our chairs and work on our computers. This causes tightness and strain in other areas of the body such as the hip flexors, calves and hamstrings.
I noticed that my left calf was so tight it was impacting my ankle flexibility. I learned this through yoga–noticing that when I would try to get into skandasana (side lunge), my heel wasn’t able to touch the floor on the left side. This left ankle tightness is inevitably going to impact my surfing because my body cannot literally get into the posture necessary for certain maneuvers and therefore will limit my progress.
And so I’ve been focusing on more sport-specific dry land training for the sport of surfing–a challenging feat to take on as someone in her mid-30s who doesn’t live near an ocean–but also to maintain optimal health, body awareness, and functional movement.
Challenge you body and brain through finding a sport you love, or activities that you love that you’d like to get better at. Train for these activities, stretch daily and begin to explore your body in new ways: learn what muscles need loosening and what muscles need strengthening, Begin to expand the range of motion of your joints to prevent injury.
Strengthen your bone mass through applying repetitive stress to long bones (through walking, running, jumping and weight-lifting).
Explore fluidity of movement through swimming, dance, yoga, pilates, or other activities that require complex movements, coordination, grace, style, and flow.
Watch your body shape transform into something you are genuinely proud of: not so much because of what it looks like, but for what it is capable of, how it supports you, and what it can do.
Develop and hone your body awareness. Deepen your breath. Pay attention to pain and physical sensations, including the physiological sensations of hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Body awareness can help to heal injury, process trauma, and engage in self-care. It can help with emotional regulation, and interpersonal relationships.
And, most of all, stay active. Whatever you do, find joy in movement.
