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.
In my last post on “I Treat Stories“, I talked about the spectrum between perfect “health” (perhaps better defined as “potential”) and disease, and death. The Disease Spectrum, perhaps we can call it.
And I also talked about the conflict many naturopathic patients experience when they are clearly not feeling well but are dismissed by the medical establishment because “there is nothing wrong”, i.e.: their signs and symptoms don’t fit into a disease classification.
I talk about functional conditions like insulin resistance and HPA axis dysfunction or estrogen dominance (or IBS, depression, anxiety) as these conditions in which functioning is impaired in someway, or the person doesn’t feel like themselves, and yet they are dismissed.
I want to correct this, however. I don’t believe that these conditions, even most diseases, per se, are the result of the body malfunctioning.
Instead, I think we should look at symptoms, and so-called pathologies and diseases, as the body adapting in a very functional way to circumstances that might be challenging, or malfunctioning.
Depression and anxiety are terrific examples of this.
In these conditions (which do fit a disease classification system, with which I very much do not agree–these classification systems rely only on symptoms, therefore they cannot possibly be viewed as true “diseases”), patients are told that they have an inborn malfunction–their brains don’t work properly. They might be told they have a chemical imbalance, or something to that nature, and that they require a lifetime of medication.
This can’t be farther from the truth.
Firstly, there has never been any evidence of these so-called brain imbalances. And there are no concrete physical signs of these “diseases” either. There are no universal changes to the brain, nothing that shows up on blood tests, and no issues with brain chemistry.
Even the therapies, usually SSRI medications, actually cause brain imbalances–there is no evidence that they solve them. There is also no evidence that they are safe and effective long-term (and limited evidence that they are safe and effective in the short-term).
What we do know is that animals in the wild become anxious when they are threatened.
And that animals in the wild become depressed when their anxiety response (their fight or flight survival response) is burnt out.
And that is the story I hear again and again in patients.
They have a history of anxiety–their nervous systems are wired “up”. This could be because of early childhood trauma. It could be attachment trauma, receiving insecure attachment or inadequate attunement from their caregivers. They might be contending with a great deal of conflict at the time of diagnosis. They may have psychological schemas about not being enough, leading to perfectionism and self-criticism, which their nervous system perceives as constant attack. They may have experienced anxious modelling from a parent or caregiver who suffers from anxiety (generational trauma, essentially).
They may be suffering from nutrient deficiencies, or a metabolic issue, giving their nervous system the input that there is a food shortage, one of our main historical stressors throughout human history.
And so on.
Ultimately, there is something happening in the environment in which their nervous system either lacks adequate safety signals or is receiving signals of danger or threat.
When patients present with depression they often describe a history of anxiety. Maybe they experienced it as “active” anxiety: feeling shaky and jittery, hyperactive, fearful, etc., or more “passive” or “mental” anxiety: worrying, ruminating, narrating, over-thinking, constant striving, self-criticism, thought loops, etc.
Not that anyone has ever asked them before reaching for the prescription pad, but when I talk to my patients presenting with depression they almost always report a baseline level of anxiety that has gone on for some time, followed by a period of acute stress, or shock, or loss, that led to this collapse of sorts.
At this point they experience extreme fatigue, low motivation, shut-down, paralysis, and intense self-criticism, even suicidal thoughts and intense feeling of hopelessness. The world starts to seem pointless. Their bodies and mind “shut down” in a sense.
And, of course they eventually seek solutions, firstly from the medical system (because we have been trained to medicalize the problemm–something has gone “off” with the machinery of the body. We locate the problem within ourselves, not with our situation.) and the response is pathologized, and most often medicated.
And then we talk about ending the stigma of mental illness (when in fact, many cases, if not most are not illnesses at all). What could be more stigmatizing or disempowering that the way we currently frame mental health?
Depression and anxiety are not sicknesses, or weaknesses. They are adaptations.
Depression is an inflammatory shutdown state that results from chronic overstimulation of the fear response in the nervous system. It is a symptom. It reflects the health of your very well-functioning brain and nervous system and their ability to adapt to adversity.
This adversity can be biological (infectious, a nutrient deficiency, metabolic issues, inflammation, etc.), mental, emotional, and environmental. It can (most often) be a confluence of one or more of these categories.
When a deer is trying to escape a predator and their fight or flight response fails to get them out of harms’ way, their nervous systems shut down. Their body releases opiates. They feel far away. Their limbs go limp. They can’t escape in body, so they escape in their minds and emotions. They despair. This is depression.
This is why the story is so important.
Without story, we can’t possibly understand what is going on for you specifically. We can’t possibly understand your situation. And, therefore, we can’t figure out what to do to help.
Is someone asking you about your story? Or are they just cataloguing your symptoms?
Are they asking about your family history, your history of trauma, the circumstances going on in your life? Are they talking to you about your thoughts, or your tendency to self-criticism and perfectionism? Are they asking you what you eat, how you move, how well you sleep, and how you recover from stress? Are they ruling out anemia, nutrient deficiencies, thyroid issues, fatty liver, insulin resistance, hormonal imbalances, and chronic inflammation, or gut issues?
Are they asking how content you are with your job? What your dreams are for the future? How fulfilled and loved you feel in your primary relationships? Are they asking you about poverty? Discrimination? Whether you feel safe in your neighbourhood? Whether you felt safe growing up as a kid?
Are they misdiagnosing your grief?
Does your healthcare practitioner get you? Can they connect the dots for you? Does talking to them give you a glimmer of hope, even in this hopeless time? Do you feel empowered and strong when you walk out of their office?
Or are they telling you you have a brain imbalance, or a in-born defect?
In reality, you are not defective. You are incredibly strong. Your body is adapting. It is resilient. And in its process of adaptation it is giving you these symptoms. Now, you don’t have to just tolerate these symptoms. There is so so much we can do. Perhaps pharmaceuticals are supportive for you while you start to compassionately look deeper.
But, there is so much more to the puzzle than just pharmaceuticals.
It’s worth asking,
What are you adapting to?
To learn more about nutrition and mental health, check out my course Feed Your Head.
“I don’t believe in diseases anymore, I treat stories.
“…No other medical system in the world ever believed in diseases. They all treat everybody as if, you know it’s whether it’s the ancestors or meridians–it’s none of this rheumatoid arthritis, strep throat kind of thing. That’s just this construct that we kind of… made up.”
– Dr. Thomas Cowan, MD
Dr. Cowan is admittedly a (deliciously) controversial figure. His statement, I’m sure, is controversial. But that’s why it intrigues me.
In naturopathic medicine, one of our core philosophies, with which I adhere very strongly, is “treat the person, not the disease”.
And, in the words of Sir William Osler, MD, “It is much more important to know what sort of person has a disease, than to know what sort of disease a person has”.
And, I guess it’s relevant to ask, what is disease in the first place?
I see disease as an non-hard end point, a state that our biological body enters into. On the continuum between perfect health (which may be an abstract and theoretical construct) and death, disease I believe is near the far end of the spectrum.
Disease happens when the body’s proteins, cells, tissues, or organs begin to malfunction in a way that threatens our survival and disrupts our ability to function in the world. For example, a collection of cells grows into a tumour, or the immune system attacks the pancreas and causes type I diabetes.
But, of course there is always more to the story.
What causes disease?
I have heard biological disease boiled down to two main causes: nutrient deficiencies and toxicities. And, I’m not sure how strongly I agree with this, but on a certain level I find this idea important to consider.
However, it is definitely not how Western Medicine views the cause of disease!
Diseases, as they are defined, seem to be biological (as opposed to mental or emotional). They have clinical signs and symptoms, certain blood test results, or imaging findings, and they can be observed looking at cells under a microscope.
Medical textbooks have lists of diseases. Medicine is largely about memorizing the characteristics of these diseases, differentiating one from another, diagnosing them, and prescribing the treatment for them.
As a naturopathic doctor, I see a myriad of patients who don’t have a “disease”, even though they feel awful and are having difficulty functioning. These patients seem to be moving along the disease spectrum, but their doctors are unable to diagnose them with anything concrete–they have not yet crossed the threshold between “feeling off” and “disease”.
Their blood tests are “normal” (supposedly), their imaging (x-rays, MRIs, ultrasounds, etc.) are negative or inconclusive, and their symptoms don’t point to any of the diseases in the medical school textbooks.
And yet they feel terrible.
And now they feel invalidated.
Often they are told, “You haven’t crossed the disease threshold yet, but once you reach the point where you’re feeling terrible and our tests pick it up too, come back and we’ll have a drug for you”.
Obviously not in so many words, but often that is the implication.
Our narrow paradigm of disease fails to account for true health.
Even the World Health Organization states that health is not the mere absence of disease.
So if someone does not have health (according to their own personal definition, values, dreams, goals, and responsibilities), but they don’t have disease, what do they have?
They have a story.
And I don’t mean that what they’re dealing with is psychological or mental or emotional instead, and that their issues are just “all in their head”. Many many times these imbalances are very biological, having a physical location in the body.
Subclinical hypothyroidism, insulin resistance, nutrient deficiencies, chronic HPA axis dysfunction, and intestinal dysbiosis are all examples of this. In these cases we can use physical testing, and physical signs to help us identify these patterns.
An aside: I believe the categories of biological, mental, environmental, and emotional, are false.
Can we have minds without biology? Can we have emotions without minds or physical bodies? How do we even interface with an environment out there if we don’t have a body or self in here?
Aren’t they all connected?
Ok, back to the flow of this piece:
Your story matters.
This is why it takes me 90 minutes to get started with a new patient.
It’s why I recommend symptom and lifestyle habit tracking: so that we can start to pay attention.
It’s why I’m curious and combine ancient philosophies, research (because yes, research is useful, there’s no doubt–we should be testing out our hypotheses), and my own intuition and skills for pattern-recognition, and my matching my felt-sense of what might be going on for a patient with their felt sense of what they feel is going on for them.
Attunement.
I write about stories a lot. And I don’t mean “story” in a woo way, like you talk about your problems and they go away.
No. What I mean is that you are an individual with a unique perspective and a body that is interconnected but also uniquely experienced. And my goal is to get a sense of what it’s like to be you. What your current experience is like. What “feeling like something’s wrong” feels like. What “getting better” feels like.
And all of that information is located within story.
Your body tells us a story too. The story shows up in your emotions, in your physical sensations, in your behaviours (that might be performed automatically or unconsciously), in your thoughts, in your energy, and in the palpation of your body.
No two cases of rheumatoid arthritis are the same. They may have similar presentations in some ways (enough to fit the category in the medical textbooks), but the two cases of rheumatoid arthritis in two separate people differ in more way than they are the same.
And that is important.
We’re so used to 15 minute insurance-covered visits where we’re given a quick diagnosis and a simple solution. We’re conditioned to believe that that’s all there is to health and that the doctors and scientists and researchers know pretty much everything there is to know about the human body and human experience.
And that if we don’t know about something, it means that it doesn’t exist.
When we’re told “nothing is wrong” we are taught to accept it. And perhaps conclude that something is wrong with us instead.
When we’re told that we have something wrong and the solution is in a pill, we are taught to accept that too. And perhaps conclude that something is wrong with our bodies.
But, you know what a story does?
It connects the dots.
It locates a relevant beginning, and weaves together the characters, themes, plot lines, conflicts, heroes, and myths that captivate us and teach us about the world.
A story combines your indigestion, mental health, microbiome, and your childhood trauma.
A story tells me about your shame, your skin inflammation, your anxiety, and your divorce.
Maybe you don’t have a disease, even if you’ve been given a diagnosis.
Imagine that you’re stuck in the middle of the Amazon forest. You have no idea where you are. You’re terrified and hungry.
All of a sudden a man (or a woman) emerges from the bushes. They tell you, “I can help you get out of here. I can help you find your way home”. With relief, you follow them.
They slash through the bush with a certain confidence. They feel comfortable to be around. But after some time, doubt fills your mind.
A little while later you, still following this guide, but mind racing with doubt, both come upon someone else, coming from the other direction.
“That’s not the way out,” this new person exclaims, once you’ve greeted one another, “Follow me, I know how to get you out of here.” And there’s something about their scent or voice, you’re not sure what, but you like them better than the other guide, or maybe the same, you don’t know, but for whatever reason you choose to follow them.
And so you leave the first guide, thank them for their help (they really were helpful after all, but this new guide, well they’re really something) and all, and say, “My heart says I should follow this new guide”. And now you’re off, travelling in an entirely different direction, on what you hope is your way out of the jungle.
The truth is, every way is the way out. Perhaps some ways are faster than others, but one thing is certain, if you continue to travel in any one direction for a long enough period of time, you will eventually leave the dark woods.
What will keep you in the jungle, however, is switching direction, switching guides. Imagine you’re almost out of there: a few hundred metres away, and you find a new guide, turn around and immediately follow them further into the bush.
So it is with healing.
Sometimes we need to pick someone–a therapist, doctor, teacher, mentor, sometimes for no better reason than we like their voice or their website or we resonate with something they’re sharing from the heart–and we need to choose them and let them guide us.
No, we don’t need to do everything they say. We don’t need to follow them blindly. We can follow them with a sense of integrity and skepticism, of course, but if we choose their guidance, and their path towards healing, perhaps we need to see it through.
I find that, as it’s often the case with anxious patients, we constantly feel the need to reach for the new solution, the new single ingredient that will make us healthy and whole. That extra thing. That missing thing. That shiny new theory, or condition, or treatment.
“Perhaps I have histamine intolerance”
“Maybe I’m eating too many lectins”
“I think I need to test my oxalates”
“Maybe I’m zinc deficient”
“Maybe it’s my estrogen dominance”
It could be any one of those things, but if you find your wheels spinning, flipping from one therapist to another, and preventing any one of them from really getting a sense of who you are or what you need then I suggest you… stay.
Who do you stay with?
Stay with the one who listens.
If anyone is offering you a simple solution, a one-trick fix (and if any one is a one-trick pony, you know them, the ones who apply their theory to everyone they work with), then please run.
Your health and wellness does not boil down to one thing, one practice, one supplement, one root cause.
Stay with the one who listens. The one who repeats back to you what you said and adds more to it. The one who synthesizes and summarizes your problem in a way that clicks something into place.
Stay with the one who talks to you, not their team of followers.
The one who has your case information, not the yoga instructor you chat with after class while you’re putting your shoes back on, not the supplements salesperson who said “It’s probably your hormones” and hands you a bottle of 15 ingredients, not the documentary you watched on Netflix that applies one-size-fits-all diet advice to you and 6 billion others without even knowing your name.
Or, maybe stick with them… but stick with one of them. See their advice through to the end.
Maybe stick with the one who says, “Hm, this sounds like…” and proceeds to connect the dots for you, in front of your eyes. Who seeks to educate you. Who thinks about your case between visits. Who says things like “I consulted with my colleagues about your case to ask and…” and things like “I was thinking about/reviewing your case the other day and thought about…”
Stay with the one who refers you to other practitioners. Stay with the one who answers your pointed health questions with “It depends” or “Normally yes, but in your case…” or “A lot of the time no, but it’s possible that in your case…”
Psychoanalyst Francis Weller urges us to practice restraint. To pause. To reflect on our needs. He urges us to practice humility.
I love working with patients who show up humble, kneeling at the alter of their own healing, saying, “I found your website” or “My friend referred you” and then proceed to tell their stories, and receive my assessment.
They help me practice humility as well. To receive their cases with humility (not with my already always listening). To receive them with patience. To take my time. To do my research. To check in: “How does this sound…”.
I kneel at the alter of healing beside them.
We set an intention of working together–walking together—out of this wilderness.
I talk with Dr. Kara and Dr. Dave of That Naturopathic Podcast, rated in the top 6 Canadian Medicine podcasts, about taming the tiger of anxiety. Click to learn about your HPA Axis, the stress response and how we can “tame the tiger” by providing our body and mind with the assurance that we’re safe. Listen on Spotify.
I talk to Taylor Morozova of the Weird Waves Podcast about how I became a naturopathic doctor, surfing, immunity, vitamin D, and how to stay safe in the age of Corona. Listen on Spotify.
When it comes to improving mood, most of us will do anything, including taking boatloads of pills.
One of the challenges I face as a naturopathic doctor is choosing which supplements to prescribe my patients; in the realm of natural medicine we have what seems like an infinite amount of options.
I can prescribe herbs for regulating the stress response, calming inflammation, or Zen-ing out the brain. I can prescribe amino acids, like 5HTP, which help regulate chemicals in the brain. I can recommend the hottest new products, like collagen, or a greens powder, or the newest Superfood. There are also a host of nutrients that the brain and body need for optimal functioning.
I try to keep my list of supplement recommendations to a maximum of 5, letting diet and lifestyle do the rest of the heavy-lifting. This means that I work in layers. When I see a new patient, I start by prescribing nutrients that fill in nutritional gaps. Perhaps my patients are showing signs of deficiency, based on their health histories, diet diaries or blood results; Or perhaps they just need a bit more nutrient support in the face of physical, mental, emotional and environmental stressors. After they start to notice improvement, we might move on to clearing more layers using herbs or therapies, like acupuncture or Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy.
Naturopathic medicine does not believe in one-size-fits all treatment plans. If I see two patients with depression on the same day, both may receive entirely different plans. I base my recommendations on the person and her unique biography and biology, not the condition. However, because I try to keep my supplement suggestions to a minimum, when I work with patients with depression, I find these 5 nutrients continue to appear on my list.
1. Fish Oil
While most anti-depressant therapies target the brain, we know that depression isn’t simply a brain disorder. Depression is a complex condition impacted by our genes, physical health, social and physical environments, early childhood traumas, current stressors, nutrients status, and many other factors. Our minds and bodies are connected and therefore depression is as much a product of the health of our bodies and our environments, as it is of our brains.
Mounting evidence shows that inflammation in the body plays a major role in depression. Since the 90’s, scientist have found inflammatory cytokines (immune system molecules that cause inflammation), like IL-6 and TNF-a, elevated in depressed individuals.
When pro-inflammatory substances, like lipopolysaccharide (LPS) or interferon-a, traditionally used to treat hepatitis C, are injected into healthy individuals they cause symptoms of depression like lack of motivation and pleasure, and feelings of sadness.
Anti-inflammatory substances are effective anti-depressants. The omega-3 fatty acid eicosapentaenoic acid, or EPA, found in fatty fish like salmon and sardines, is a well-known anti-inflammatory nutrient. One study found that supplementing with EPA prevented depressive symptoms in individuals who were injected with interferon-a.
Fish oil contains the omega-3 fatty acids EPA and docosahexaenoic acid, or DHA. Both of these marine omegas are found in certain fatty fish, which can be remembered by the acronym SMASH: sardines, mackerel, anchovy, salmon and herring (also trout). Fish oil supplements combine EPA and DHA. DHA is a component of our brain mass. It is needed for developing the brain and nervous system of growing babies, and is indicated in pregnant and breastfeeding women. EPA confers the anti-inflammatory benefits.
A meta-analysis composed of 15 randomized control trials involving almost 1000 participants, found that fish oil was an effective therapy for treating depression as long as the fish oil contained over 60% EPA relative to DHA.
Another review of three studies, showed that omega-3 fish oil supplementation reduced depressive symptoms in children and adults by 50%.
When it comes to supplementing with fish oil for depression, it’s the EPA that counts, not the DHA. Also, more fish oil seems to be better than less. Studies that showed the best anti-depressant actions dosed participants with at least 1 gram of EPA per day. Some studies gave patients 2 grams of EPA or more per day. Supplements that showed the most benefit contained higher amounts of EPA relative to DHA.
A 100-gram serving of wild Atlantic salmon contains about 400 mg of EPA, while farmed Atlantic salmon, surprisingly contains more: 700 mg of EPA per 100 grams. While consuming fatty fish, like sardines, and pasture-raised, rather than grain-fed, animals can increase our dietary ratio of omega 3 to omega 6, which has general health benefits, supplementation with a high-EPA fish oil is probably necessary to supply the 1 to 2 grams of EPA per day that have been shown to reduce depression.
2. An Active B Complex
B vitamins are cofactors for thousands of reactions in the body. Cofactors are “helpers”. They help enzymes and cellular process work—without these helpers, important jobs just don’t get done. This can have major implications for our mental health.
For example, the vitamins B6 and folate are needed to convert the amino acids tryptophan and 5HTP to serotonin, the “happy hormone”. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter responsible for managing mood: soothing depression and anxiety; and regulating appetite, memory, and sexual desire. Serotonin is the main target of conventional anti-depressant therapies, SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) medications, which raise brain levels of this chemical.
Both B12, which is important for energy production and neuronal health, and folate, which is important for DNA repair, detoxification and reducing inflammation, have been found to be low in patients with depression. A B12 deficiency, resulting in fatigue, memory loss and low mood, can also mimic the symptoms of depression.
It’s important to supplement with an active form of the B vitamins. This means buying and consuming a B complex or multivitamin that contains B12 and folate in their active forms: methylcobalamin and methyl-folate (or 5-methyltetrahydrafolate, or 5-MTHF), respectively.
Individuals who have a genetic mutation that prevents them from efficiently converting folic acid (a synthetic vitamin found in cheap supplements and fortified grains, like wheat and rice) to active folate, are highly represented in the major depressive disorder population. This gene is called MTHFR C677T and is associated with lower blood levels of folate and an increased risk of depression. To learn more about folic acid and MTHFR mutations, read my article here.
B vitamins are also needed by the mitochondria, the “powerhouses” of our cells. By helping our mitochondria work properly, they help reduce inflammation, boost energy production and promote antioxidant synthesis.
We can find B vitamins in egg yolks and liver. The only dietary sources of B12 are found in animal foods, making it difficult for vegans and vegetarians to get without supplementing. Folate is abundant in leafy greens.
Physical, mental, emotional and environmental stressors create a higher demand for the B vitamins. The B vitamins are water soluble, excreted in the urine and not stored. Therefore, to support neurotransmitter synthesis and energy levels in my depressed patients, I often prescribe a good-quality B complex supplement to complement their diets.
3. Magnesium
Because my clinical focuses are mental health, hormones and digestion, I prescribe magnesium to virtually every patient I see—magnesium is an important nutrient for all of these conditions.
Like the B vitamins, magnesium is a cofactor. It’s involved in helping with over 800 chemical process in the body that simply won’t get done without it. We need magnesium to make cellular energy in the mitochondria, to produce neurotransmitters, like serotonin, and to repair DNA, among many other jobs.
Due to soil deficiency, low intake, stress and decreased absorption, it’s estimated that about 40 to 60% of North Americans are magnesium deficient. Only 1% of the magnesium in our bodies is present in blood. Blood levels don’t reflect the body’s magnesium stores, and so testing for deficiency is unreliable.
Magnesium is a potent muscle relaxer. Deficiencies show up wherever muscles are contracted, rather than relaxed: this can include constipation because of poor intestinal motility, muscle aches and pains, frequent urination due to contracted bladder muscles, menstrual cramps, and headaches and high blood pressure from constricted blood vessels. Insomnia, anxiety and sensitivity to loud noises can also all be signs of a magnesium deficiency. PMS, insulin resistance and sugar cravings are all further indications for magnesium supplementation.
Magnesium can be obtained from leafy greens like spinach and chard. However, most individuals need to supplement to stock up their magnesium levels, particularly if experiencing stress, fatigue, anxiety or depression. Like the B vitamins, magnesium is water soluble, excreted in the urine in response to stress.
A 2017 randomized control trial published in PloS One, found that 248 mg of magnesium chloride decreased the PHQ-9 score of those with mild-moderate depression by almost 5 points. This result compares to standard anti-depressant medications. Despite the relatively low dose and inferior form of magnesium, the effects were well-tolerated and benefits were seen in 2 weeks.
I prescribe magnesium glycinate, a much better-absorbed form, before bed to help patients sleep better. This means starting with 100 to 200 mg per night and increasing by that amount every 3 to 4 days or until patients are having a bowel movement on waking—this is called “prescribing to bowel tolerance”.
A side effect of taking too much magnesium is loose stools, or soft stools that fall apart in the toilet on flushing, which can be corrected by lowering the dose. I personally take about 900 mg of magnesium at night to manage my stress, mood, energy levels and muscle tension.
4. Vitamin D
About 70 to 90% of North Americans are deficient in vitamin D, which acts like a steroid hormone rather than an actual vitamin, and regulates over one thousand genes in the body. Our skin makes vitamin D when it comes into contact with UVB radiation from the sun. Those of us who live in northern climates with limited sun exposure don’t make enough vitamin D and need to supplement, especially during the Winter months.
Vitamin D is needed to regulate the gene Tryptophan Hydroxylase 2, which converts the amino acid tryptophan (a component of protein that can only be obtained from diet and is found in foods like turkey and pumpkin seeds) to serotonin in the brain.
Low vitamin D concentration has been associated with depression, however researchers aren’t sure if the relationship is causal: does low vitamin D status put someone at risk for developing depression? Or do depressed individuals have low vitamin levels in their bodies because of some other factor?
Studies have failed to show that taking vitamin D supplements impacts depression. I also haven’t found vitamin D to impact my patients’ moods as a solo therapy. It’s likely that nutrients like vitamin D acts as part of a network, in conjunction with other vitamins, like magnesium, which is responsible for converting supplemental vitamin D into the active form. Vitamin D is a fat-soluble vitamin, and taking it in chalky tablet form may not raise levels. I prescribe vitamin D3, the active form of the vitamin, in drop form. Vitamin D drops are suspended in fats like coconut or flax oil, which makes them easier for the body to absorb.
Whether a case of the chicken or the egg, when it comes to vitamin D and mood, we know that supporting vitamin D status is essential for achieving optimal health, managing immune function, reducing inflammation, reducing the risk of osteoporosis, and regulating mood, given vitamin D’s role in serotonin synthesis.
The Framingham study found that patients who had low levels of vitamin D had poorer mental functioning and reduced volume of a brain region called the hippocampus, which is responsible for memory formation and mood regulation. Reduced hippocampal volume is a risk factor for and consequence of major depression.
There is a “sweet spot” to optimal vitamin D levels; because it’s a fat-soluble vitamin and can be stored, too much vitamin D may be as bad as too little. Therefore, I like to measure my patients’ blood levels in the Fall to determine the right dose for supplementation. 4000 IU a day is a good, safe dose for most people during the Winter months.
5. Zinc
Zinc is the catalyst for hundreds of enzymes in the brain, including making serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine, all of which are brain chemical targets of anti-depressant therapies.
There is a major concentration of zinc in the hippocampus, a brain region affected by depression. Studies show that zinc plays a role in supporting neurogenesis (the creation of new brain cells) by stimulating Brain Derived Neurotrophic Factor (BDNF). BDNF creates new brain cells and boosts mood. Anti-depressants may work by increasing brain levels of BNDF, protecting the brain against stress.
Plasma zinc concentrations are lower in major depressive disorder. Animal studies also show that depleting zinc can lead to major depression.
Zinc supplementation has been shown to boost mood. A study of 50 overweight or obese patients were assigned to receive either 30 mg of zinc or placebo. After 12 weeks, the group who received zinc experienced a greater reduction in the severity of their depression and an increase in the levels of BDNF in their brains.
Zinc is also an important nutrient for supporting the immune system and managing inflammation.
Besides depression, other signs of zinc deficiency include skin issues, like dry skin and acne, infertility, issues with gut membrane integrity (leaky gut), hair loss, low testosterone, poor immune function and fatigue.
Dietary sources of zinc are harder to come by for vegans and vegetarians, who are at a higher risk for developing a zinc deficiency. Zinc can be found in red meat, shellfish, lentils and pumpkin seeds.
I typically prescribe zinc the way I prescribe iron, in pulse doses: I recommend that patients work their way through a bottle of zinc (taking 30 to 100 mg per day), while we assess whether symptoms improve. Unlike iron (which we can measure more accurately by looking at its storage molecule ferritin), zinc can’t be accurately measured in blood. Like magnesium, zinc deficiency in the body’s tissues may be present long before low zinc levels show up in blood.
While this list can be a great tool for anyone interested in supporting their mood through boosting nutrient status, keep in mind that this information is not a substitute for medical advice.
I believe it’s essential to work with a naturopathic doctor, or a functional medical doctor, who can make the appropriate recommendations for your individual health needs. A personalized consultation that assesses your diet, blood work, health history and specific symptoms, can help you hone your list to come up with a dynamite nutrient plan that’s specifically tailored to you.
Gorf is a man of his age, which, in his case, happens to be the Stone Age.
Yes, Gorf is a caveman.
And, perplexingly, Gorf suffers from insomnia.
Gorf wakes up sluggish, long after the sun has risen, wishing he had a snooze button to smash.
He struggles through the day, exhausted. In the early afternoon, he sucks glycogen from the raw meat of a fresh kill to get an extra blood sugar boost.
Gorf prays for someone to discover coffee and refined sugars so that he can join the ranks of modern zombies getting through their 3 pm slumps with artificial pick-me-ups.
When the sun sets, Gorf feels depleted, but also restless and wired. He frustratedly tosses on his bed of mammoth skins beside the dying embers of his campfire while his family snoozes on.
Wide awake at 2 am, Gorf knows that the next morning he’ll begin the cycle again, his body completely out of sync with the Earth’s rhythms. Such is the cursed life of a Prehistoric Insomniac.
If this story seems preposterous, it’s because it probably is. Whatever we imagine prehistoric humans to be, insomniacs is not high on the list.
Those of us who have spent a night outside—whether it was a weekend camping trip or longer—might remember how deeply we slept under the darkness of the starry night sky and how refreshed we woke when the sun began to warm our faces in the early morning.
The closer we get to nature, the better our bodies seem to align with the Earth’s light and dark rhythms.
Now, if we took poor Gorf, dressed him in a suit, and dumped him in a desk chair in an office building in any major modern city, we might believe his claim to insomnia.
Now that Gorf is one of us, his eyes are exposed to bright lights at night as he slogs away at his computer, answering emails, or surfing social media pages into the late hours.
During the day, Gorf now spends his time indoors, where light exposure is 400 times less than that of a bright sunny day.
On bright days when he has a chance to get outside, Gorf protects his fragile eyes with dark glasses.
Welcome to the modern industrial lifestyle, Gorf. Don’t forget to help yourself to the coffee and cookies.
Our Body’s Circadian Rhythms
Our body runs on a 24 hour clock, which is orchestrated by an area in the hypothalamus of the brain called the Suprachiasmatic Nucleus (which we will refer to as “the SCN” from now on).
Our organs, body tissues and cellular processes, from our digestive function, hormones, mood, body temperature, metabolism, sleepiness and wakefulness, cellular repair, to detoxification, among others, have different objectives for certain times of day. The SCN coordinates these functions with the Earth’s daily cycles.
The SCN runs without the aid of outside influence, however several zeitgebers, German for “time givers”, or environmental cues, tell our internal clock what time of day it is to sync our internal and external worlds. The most important zeitgeber is light, which directly activates the SCN through a pathway that connects the retina in our eyes to the hypothalamus (the retinohypothalamic tract).
In our bodies, timing is everything. The more we are able to sync our cycles with the environment, the better our body organs function. Working against circadian rhythms by engaging in activities like sleeping and eating at the wrong time of day can negatively affect our health, decrease our lifespan, and make us miserable (like poor, sad Gorf in his dimly lit office).
The digestive system, for example, is wired to break down, absorb and convert food energy into fuel during the day and repair and regenerate itself at night.
At night, the pineal gland, located in the brain, releases melatonin, a hormone produced in the absence of light, to help us sleep. However, exposure to bright lights before bed can impede the natural release of melatonin, preventing restful sleep.
Science shows that healthy circadian rhythms equal optimal metabolic health, cognitive function, weight, energy levels, cardiovascular health, immune function, digestive health, coordination and mental health. Regulating our circadian rhythms can increase our health-span.
Our Liver, Muscles and Adrenal Glands Also Have Clocks
While the SCN is the chief executive officer of the circadian cycle, other organs, such as the liver, muscle and adrenal glands, help regulate our body’s rhythms through peripheral clocks.
These clocks register cues from the environment and report back to the SCN.In turn, the SCN tells the organs what jobs they are supposed to be performing according to the time of day.
Dr. Satchin Panda, PhD, a researcher at the Salk Institute, is discovering how important our eating times are for setting our circadian clock.
The first bite of our breakfast tells our liver clock to start making the enzymes and hormones necessary to digest our food, regulate our metabolism, and use the food we eat throughout the day to fuel our cells.
A few hours later, our digestive system requires relief from food intake to invest its resources into repair rather than spending precious resources on digesting food.
Dr. Panda found that restricting a “feeding window” to 8 to 12 hours in mice and human participants (for example, eating breakfast at 7 am and finishing dinner no later than 7 pm), allowed the system to digest optimally, left time for the system to repair itself at night, and also acted as a powerful circadian regulator.
New research suggests that food is a potent zeitgeber, which has the power to regulate our circadian rhythms. This suggests that eating at the right time of day can heal our adrenal glands and sleep cycles.
Fasting for 10 to 16 hours at night, or “Time Restricted Eating”, helps optimize health and increase lifespan in mice. In human participants, it improves sleep and results in modest weight loss.
According to Dr. Panda, we become more insulin resistant at night, which means that late-night snacking makes us more likely to store the calories we consume as fat.
Consuming calories in a state of insulin resistance can also predispose use to metabolic syndrome and type II diabetes.
In addition to light and food intake, rest and movement are important zeitgebers. Therefore, engaging in these activities at the right time of day has the potential to promote physical and mental health.
Circadian Rhythms and the Stress Response are Tightly Connected.
If the internet is any indicator, it seems that everyone is suffering from the modern illness of “adrenal fatigue”, or HPA (Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal) axis dysfunction
Because of the stress of our modern lifestyles, our adrenal glands and brains are no longer able to regulate the stress response.
This leads to a host of symptoms that wreck havoc on the entire body: fatigue, anxiety, sugar cravings, and insomnia. It also negatively impacts digestion, hormone production, and mood.
Our adrenal glands make cortisol, the “stress hormone”, a hormone involved in long-term stress adaptation but also in wakefulness, motivation, reward, and memory.
Deficiencies in cortisol signalling can result in issues with inflammation and depression. Too much cortisol floating around in the body can cause weight gain, cardiovascular issues, such as hypertension, and metabolic syndrome.
Cortisol has a circadian rhythm of its own. Our cortisol levels rise within an hour of waking; 50% of the total cortisol for the day is released in the first 30 minutes after we open our eyes. This rise in cortisol wakes us up. It allows us to perform our daily activities in a state of alert wakefulness.
Cortisol levels decline steadily throughout the day, dipping in the evening when melatonin rises.
A flattened or delayed rise in morning cortisol results in grogginess, brain fog and altered HPA axis function throughout the day. Elevated cortisol in the evening cause us to feel “tired and wired” and affect sleep. Waking at night, especially in the early morning between 2 and 4 am can be due to cortisol spikes.
Our adrenal glands help regulate our circadian rhythms through the production of cortisol. Both the adrenals and the SCN communicate with each other as early as 2 in the morning to ready the system to generate the waking response a few hours later.
Psychiatrist Dr. Charles Raison, MD says, “The most stressful thing you do most days is get up in the morning. Your body prepares for it for a couple of hours [before waking by activating] the stress system. The reason more people die at dawn [than any other time] is because it’s really rough to get up.”
Waking up is a literal stress on the body.
However, we need the stress response to get through our day effectively and healthy HPA axis function and optimal mood and energy are a result of properly functioning circadian rhythms.
Without these rhythms functioning properly we feel tired, groggy, tense, and depressed. Like Gorf, we need sugar and caffeine to help us through the day.
Circadian Rhythms Affect Our Mental Health
In nearly everyone I work with who suffers from anxiety, depression, or other mental health disorders, I see disrupted circadian rhythms and HPA axises.
Many of my patients feel exhausted during the day and wired at night. They have trouble getting up in the morning (or stay in bed all day) and postpone their bedtime. Most of them skip breakfast due to lack of hunger, and crave sweets after dinner, which further throws off the circadian cycle.
Lack of sleep can disrupt circadian rhythms leading to obesity, depression, diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Even two nights of shortened sleep can affect cortisol production and the HPA axis, worsening mood and energy levels.
Depression severity on the Hamilton Depression Rating Scale (HDRS) falls by 6 full points when sleep is restored, which is enough to bring a patient from moderate/severe depression to mild. In comparison, the standard medication SSRIs, like cipralex, only drop the HDRS by 2.
Bipolar disorder is particularly affected by a misaligned circadian clock. In an interview, Dr. Raison claims that a single night of missed sleep has brought on episodes of mania in his bipolar patients. Their moods level once the sleep cycle is restored.
Our mood is tightly connected to our circadian rhythms and sleep.
Circadian Rhythms and Chinese Medicine
Thousands of years ago, the Chinese developed the Theory of Yin and Yang to describe the dynamics nature, including the cycles of night and day.
Yin and yang (symbolized by a black-and-white circle with dots) represent the process of change and transformation of everything in the universe.
Yang, represented by the white part of the circle, is present in things that are hot, light, awake, moving, exciting, changing, transforming and restless.
Yin is present in material that is cold, dark, soft, inhibited, slow, restful, conversative, and sustaining.
Yin and yang are dependent on each other. Yin feeds into yang, while yang feeds and transforms into yin. Everything in nature consists of a fluctuating combination of these two states.
The circadian cycle transforms the yin night into the yang of daytime.
Yang zeitgebers such as food, light, and physical and mental activity, help stimulate yang in the body, which helps us feel energized, light and motivated.
Before bed, yin zeitgebers like darkness, rest and relaxation help our bodies transition into the yin of night, so that we can sleep restfully.
Lack of sleep and relaxation can deplete our body’s yin energy, causing yin deficiency. Individuals with yin deficiency feel fatigued, anxious, and hot, experiencing night sweats, hot flashes, and flushed skin. Conventionally, yin deficiency can look like burnout compounded by anxiety, or peri-menopause.
Out-of-sync circadian rhythms can result in yang deficiency resulting in morning grogginess, an insufficient rise in morning cortisol, and a failure to activate yang energy throughout the day.
Yang deficiency is characterized by the build-up of phlegm in the body, leading to weight gain, feelings of sluggishness, slow digestion, bloating, weakness, and feeling foggy, pale and cold. Yang deficiency symptoms can look like depression, chronic fatigue syndrome, IBS, estrogen dominance, hypothyroidism, or obesity and metabolic syndrome.
In Chinese medicine, the organs have specific times of activity as well.
The stomach is most active from 7 to 9 am, when we eat our breakfast, the most important meal of the day according to Traditional Chinese doctors. The spleen (which in Traditional Chinese Medicine operates much like the Western pancreas) is active from 9 to 11 am, converting the food energy from breakfast into energy that can be utilized by the body.
According to the Chinese organ clock, the liver is active from 1 to 3 am. Individuals with chronic stress, insomnia and irritability, sometimes called “Liver Qi Stagnation”, frequently wake up restless during those early morning hours.
Entraining our circadian clock with environmental cues can help us remain vital by balancing the flow and transformation of yin and yang energies in the body.
Healing the Circadian Clock:
When I work with patients with depression, anxiety and other mental health conditions, or hormonal conditions such as HPA axis dysfunction, one of our goals is to heal circadian rhythms.
This involves coordinating our internal rhythms with the Earth’s night and dark cycle by setting up a series of routines that expose the body to specific zeitgebers at certain times of day.
How to Heal Your Circadian Rhythms
Morning Activities: Increasing Yang with movement, light and food:
1. Expose your eyes to bright light between the hours of 6 and 8 am. This stimulates the SCN and the adrenal glands to produce cortisol, which boosts mood, energy and wakefulness in the morning and can help reset the HPA axis.
2. Have a large breakfast high in protein and fat within an hour of waking. The intake of a meal that contains all of the macronutrients wakes up the liver clock. This activates our metabolism, digestive function, blood sugar regulation, and HPA axis.
Consider eating 3 eggs, spinach and an avocado in the morning. Or consume a smoothie with avocado, MCT oil, protein powder, berries and leafy greens.
Eating a breakfast that contains at least 20 grams of protein and a generous serving of fat will help stabilize blood sugar and mood throughout the day while obliterating night-time sugar cravings.
3. Move a little in the morning. Morning movement doesn’t necessarily have to come in the form of exercise, however, it’s important to get up and start your routine, perhaps making breakfast and tidying, or having an alternate hot and cold shower (1 minute hot bursts alternating with 30 seconds cold for 3 to 5 cycles).
Muscle movement triggers another important peripheral clock that helps entrain our circadian cycle with the day.
4. Turn on lights in the morning, especially in the winter time. Spend time outside during the day, and avoid using sunglasses unless absolutely necessary so that light can stimulate the SCN. Consider investing in a sunlamp for the winter, particularly if you suffer from seasonal affective disorder.
5. Consume most of your supplements in the morning, with breakfast. Taking adaptogens (herbs that help reset the HPA axis) and B vitamins can help promote daytime energy and rebalance our morning cortisol levels. This, of course, depends on why you’re naturopathic doctor has recommended specific supplements, so be sure to discuss supplement timing with her first.
Night Routine: Increasing Yin with dark and stillness:
1. Maintain a consistent sleep and wake time, even on the weekends. Retraining the cycles starts with creating a consistent routine to get your sleep cycle back on track.
2. Try to get to bed before 11pm. This allows the body to reach the deepest wave of sleep around 2 am. It also allows for 7 to 8 hours of continuous sleep when you expose your eyes to bright lights at 6 to 8 am, when cortisol naturally rises. Of course, this sleep routine will vary depending on personal preferences, lifestyles and genetics.
It’s important to first establish a routine that will allow you to get at least 6 hours of continuous sleep a night. If you suffer from chronic insomnia, working with a naturopathic doctor can help you reset your circadian cycle using techniques like Sleep Restriction Therapy to get your body back on track.
3. Avoid electronic use at least an hour before bed. Our smartphones, tablets, computers and TVs emit powerful blue light that activates our SCN, confusing all of our body’s clocks. Blue light also suppresses melatonin release, making us feel restless and unable to fall asleep.
For those of you who must absolutely be on electronics in the late hours of the evening, consider investing in blue light-blocking glasses, or installing an app that block blue light, such as F.lux, on your devices. These solutions are not as effective as simply turning off electronics and switching to more relaxing bedtime activities, but can be a significant form of harm reduction.
4. Fast for at least 2 to 3 hours before bed. Avoid late-night snacking to give the body a chance to rest and to signal to the peripheral digestive clocks, such as the liver clock, that it’s now time to rest and repair, rather than digestive and assimilate more food.
Avoiding food, especially carbohydrate-rich food, at night can also manage blood sugar. A drop in blood sugar is often a reason why people wake in the early hours of the morning, as blood sugar drops spike cortisol, which wake us up and off-set our entire circadian system.
5. Engage in relaxing activities in dim lighting. Turn off powerful overhead lights, perhaps lighting candles or dim reading lights, and engage in at least 30 minutes of an activity that feels restorative and relaxing to you. This might include taking an epsom salt bath, reading a book while enjoying an herbal tea, doing yoga or meditation, or cuddling with a partner.
Taking this time helps us step out of the busyness of the day and signals to the body and its clocks that it’s time to sleep.
6. Take nighttime supplements before bed. I often recommend sleep-promoting supplements like prolonged-release melatonin (which is a powerful circadian rhythm and HPA axis resetter), magnesium or phosphatidylserine, before bed to help my patients’ bodies entrain to the time of day. Talk to your ND about what supplements might be right for you.
If you suffer from chronic stress and mood disorders, do shift work, or are dealing with jet lag, you may need to engage in these routines diligently for a few months to get your circadian cycles back on track.
These practices can also be beneficial at certain times of year: daylight savings time, periods of stress and heightened mental work, and the transition of seasons, especially early Spring and Fall.
Finally, consider working with a naturopathic doctor to obtain and individual plan that can help you reset your body’s rhythms.
