“The patient is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be met.” — Rachel Naomi Remen
M was a mother of two, in her mid-50s. She booked an appointment because profound exhaustion had descended on her like a fog. She ate intentionally: fibre, fruits, and vegetables. She usually slept well. Recently, she started experiencing abdominal distension and a feeling of fullness. She read about intermittent fasting and decided to try it: skipping breakfast.
Her family doctor had ordered blood tests and called to tell her everything looked fine. I requested a copy and found that she had high triglycerides and liver enzymes. She said her doctor had mentioned something like that, but said nothing could be done. They advised her to keep eating well and exercising, and to repeat the tests in three months.
Within three months, the liver enzymes returned to the normal range. Her doctor offered her a statin drug for her elevated “cholesterol.” M declined, still feeling tired and bloated, but preferring to focus on lifestyle factors before trying medication.
L was in her 30s. She lived alone and worked from home—a repetitive and unfulfilling admin job. As a teenager, she was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and prescribed medication to correct the “chemical imbalance” in her brain. The medication might have helped a little; she wasn’t sure. Her depressive episodes would often last for weeks, during which she was unable to get out of bed.
When she booked her first appointment, she had tried more medications than she could remember and was currently taking three, her psychiatrist trying to get the cocktail right. She was still experiencing a chronically low mood, cloudy thinking, and troubling memory loss. Her doctor had recommended electroconvulsive therapy for her “treatment-resistant depression,” and suggested that her symptoms were worsening because of peri-menopause.
She wished she could pursue a more meaningful career, but with her depression, she didn’t think she could handle something challenging. She also needed the job security and health benefits to cover the medications for her chronic autoimmune disorder.
H was in his 40s and suffered from gastrointestinal bloating and erratic bowel movements most of his life. As a child, he was diagnosed with ADHD and generalized anxiety disorder. He remembers horrible stomach pain that would keep him home from elementary school. In many ways, this was a saving grace because he remembers the chronic bullying and devastating boredom he dealt with there.
His doctor ordered colonoscopies and gastroenterologist referrals, but when nothing showed up on testing, he was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), linked to stress.
To find relief, H researched alternative therapies like meditation, red light therapy, cold plunges, and ketogenic diets. Could his mental health issues be connected to his gut health? His doctor said that diet was unlikely to shift his symptoms and that his anxiety, ADHD and IBS were separate and unrelated.
These examples are from various patients I’ve seen over the years—their names and identifying details have been changed and combined with other patients to represent overarching patterns in everyday healthcare experiences. There are differences in the details, but they, I, and hundreds of other patients, have all found ourselves in a similar space: leaving an unproductive and invalidating healthcare encounter in tears, feeling utterly alone, unseen and unheard.
M, L, and H all presented with a constellation of symptoms affecting various body systems, including their digestive organs, brain and nervous system, hormones, immune system, muscles, and metabolism. Their doctors were supportive and well-meaning, ordering blood tests and imaging, making referrals, and providing solutions within their scope of knowledge.
However, when their tests were normal, medications failed to provide relief, or symptoms escaped defined diagnostic categories, they and their practitioners hit a wall.
Like many others, these patients are victims of a medical model that overlooks the broader context in which people seeking healthcare solutions often find themselves. Symptoms may be dismissed, data is prioritized over experience, mental health is either minimized or overmedicalized, and care is separated into systems: brain, body, digestive system, hormones, or heart.
What was the significance of M’s elevated liver enzymes on her bloating and fatigue? Did her history of caloric restriction and people-pleasing predispose her to the burnout and exhaustion she was experiencing? How might intermittent fasting and overfunctioning have perpetuated her condition? How did the absence of a clear and defined disease negate her experience of being unwell and prevent her from finding the tools and strategies that might have helped?
What is the connection between L’s longstanding untreatable depression, autoimmune disease, and inflammation? How did carrying her diagnostic labels since adolescence impact her identity, hope for the future, and career aspirations?
Is it true that H’s anxiety, ADHD, and IBS were unrelated? How might bullying have impacted his physical and mental health? How might biohacking give him a sense of agency, or even creativity (May, 1983)? When does striving to understand slip too far into micromanagement, health anxiety, orthorexia, and self-punishment?
One of the reasons I became a naturopathic doctor is to work within the space and framework to ask these questions: Who is the person in front of me? What is their story? How can I serve?
For all three case examples, their family doctor’s office was the first place they sought help. Patients in the current healthcare system are fragmented into signs, symptoms, diagnoses, and labels. They are offered reductionistic linear solutions: one drug, test, or treatment per problem. When solutions are exhausted, practitioners throw up their arms: “It’s peri-menopause/aging/stress.” The system leaves little room for curiosity, meaning-making, transformation, growth, or uncertainty.
The result is a breakdown in the doctor-patient relationship and a lack of faith in the healthcare system. For patients, this can lead to a sense of powerlessness and mistrust of their bodies. Practitioners can feel frustrated, compassion-fatigued, and burned out.
In 1977, the journal Science published a seminal paper by George Engel entitled “The Need for a New Medical Model: A Challenge for Biomedicine.” In it, Engel outlines the limitations of the biomedical model and introduces a new approach to healing: the Biopsychosocial model, a holistic framework that acknowledges the interplay of biology, psychological, and social factors on health and illness.
Even nearly 50 years after Engel’s paper, modern medicine still largely adheres to the biomedical model. The model is based on the tenets of reductionism and dualism, which offer relative simplicity and a sense of certainty. These dogmas are difficult to release in favour of a more complex, flexible, multifaceted, and interconnected holistic framework.
Reductionism is a philosophical approach that seeks to understand the whole by breaking it down into its constituent parts. Health and illness can, therefore, be understood at the molecular and chemical levels: type I diabetes is a disease characterized by insulin deficiency, and coronary artery disease results from high cholesterol levels. However, a Lego sculpture cannot be recreated by turning over and examining the little coloured plastic pieces; the human organism is more than the sum of its parts. Our bodies are layered, interwoven, and interdependent dynamic systems that depend on and interact with the social world and environment.
We are wild, magical, and endlessly puzzling, with pieces and parts that weave, knot, and untangle in molecular dances that connect, disappear, and remanifest from the unseen depths of the mysterious beyond. The truth is as horrifying as it is accurate: despite the degrees, papers and expert-level bravado, we understand very little about ourselves.
Emerson M. Pugh puts it famously and beautifully: “If the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn’t.”
The Human Genome Project is a prime example of the limitations of reductionism. Launched in the late 1990s and early 2000s, it aimed to decipher the body’s genetic code to understand the language of disease. While the project helped advance science in many ways, it failed to provide significant breakthroughs in disease research. It turns out that there is more to understanding Shakespeare’s works than reciting the alphabet.
Some diseases are caused by specific mutations in individual genes. Still, the reality is far more complex, with the relationship between genes and health involving combinations of mutations and epigenetics —interactions with the environment, life experiences, and behaviours that impact our DNA.
The second feature of the biomedical model is mind-body dualism, developed and promoted by Descartes in the 17th century. He postulated that the body is a material entity that could be dissected, examined, and altered without impacting the mind, which was considered ethereal and non-physical. The body might have been considered a temporary vessel for the mind, but the two were governed by different principles and troubles of the mind were not thought to impact the body, and vice versa.
The healthcare system still presumes mind-body dualism. We have psychiatrists for the mind and neurologists for the brain. Dead-end symptoms that evade disease categories are hand-waved as “stress” or “psychosomatic” (which paradoxically assumes a connection between mind and body).
Centuries of adopting this ill-fitting assumption have led to the obvious and pervasive mind-body problem: if the mind and body are distinct, then how can anxious thoughts quicken our heartbeat, trauma impact our immune system, stress lead to indigestion, and a placebo produce a healing effect?
The biomedical model views the body as a machine, with diseases representing deviations from normal functioning, and healing involving the restoration or replacement of broken parts. But, despite the comforts of certainty and control, biomedicine is no more scientific than leeches, bloodletting, and celery juice. It provides us with rituals in the form of tests, diagnoses, and prescriptions. The amulets we hold onto to ward off the demons of disease are chemical fixes for depression and ADHD, antibiotics for viral infections, and medications to lower lab values.
The biomedical model is the folk medicine of our time. It promises answers to the more complex questions of what is wrong and what can be done about it, while failing to address the why, how, what for, and, importantly, what this means (for me, my life, my family, my future).
On the other hand, the biopsychosocial model invites us to see the person as a constellation of living systems: interwoven body, mind, relationship, and spirit. It considers the rhythms of our biology, such as blood sugar, hormones, nerves, and neurotransmitters, inseparable from our inner world of thoughts, emotions, defences, and longings. It honours how we move through the world: in families, communities, and systems that shape our choices and burdens. It also asks how we make meaning through purpose, ancestry, connection, and the implicit possibility that links others to our suffering: we belong to something larger than ourselves.
The biopsychosocial model rests on a web of interconnected pillars, each supporting and shaping the others in a living system of feedback loops and resonance. No part can be isolated and touched without creating ripples that contact the whole.
Even a single intervention, such as a medication, sends ripples through the entire system because a pill, even a placebo, is not inert. It holds our beliefs about healing and medicine, our relationship with the prescriber, the meanings we attach to illness, and the social stories we carry about being unwell.
In “Why Make People Patients,” Marshall Marinker (1975) distinguishes between illness, sickness, and disease. The medical establishment diagnoses and treats diseases based on symptoms, signs, and lab tests that fit into neat categories, with defined biological treatments.
Illness is the experience of dysphoria and dysfunction that brings people to the doctor. It is the interpersonal and subjective experience of how unwellness is experienced or lived. Therefore, it is possible to feel ill (or unwell) without meeting the criteria for having a disease.
Sickness is a social role that an individual adopts when they are seen or see themselves as unwell. Those with chronic illness may experience being sick (and ill) without having a disease.
Within the biomedical model, disease receives the most attention. Its cause and course are known, and its treatments are rational and specific (Engel, 1977). Biomedicine can offer patients disease labels and treatments. The biological, psychological, and social dimensions of suffering are medicalized and collapsed into the narrow definition of disease. Care is often dehumanized, and people are treated as problems to be fixed (Marinker, 1975). People with chronic, invisible, or unexplainable symptoms or conditions that have yet to be classified and recognized as diseases are often dismissed, a phenomenon identified as “medical gaslighting.”
The Latin root of the word “patient” means “one who suffers” or “one who endures.” Life is suffering, and in this way, we are all patients. However, patient is a half-word, like confidant or lover (Marinker, 1975). A patient exists as one half of a dyadic whole, the doctor, physician, or healer forming the other half. This therapeutic relationship is the unit from which healing occurs.
The patient enters the therapeutic relationship because either they are unaware of what is wrong or, if they are, they don’t know how to help themselves (Engel, 1977). In this therapeutic dyad, the physician is not just a mechanic, identifying and fixing the broken parts, but also a teacher, mentor, and psychotherapist, requiring knowledge of body systems and medicine, as well as psychological and interpersonal skills. Their task is not only to diagnose, but to soothe uncertainty, offer meaning, and strengthen the patient’s trust in their body.
The physician is an agent of hope.
Research has shown that the biopsychosocial model can be used to treat pain and improve mood and life satisfaction in patients; it enhances clinician skills and improves disability outcomes ( Dossett et al., 2020; Fricchione, 2023; Kusnanto et al., 2018; Mankelow et al., 2022; Nakao et al., 2020).
Though decades of research and clinical evidence support the biopsychosocial model, conventional medicine, shaped by hierarchy and tradition, has been slow to integrate it, preferring power and old dominance structures over change.
Furthermore, the limitations of time and attention in holding space for the biopsychosocial model, the nuance of taking a thorough history, and systems thinking make it difficult to standardize into a rigid and overly complex system.
We need practice to bring the biopsychosocial model to healthcare. Below are real-world, grounded examples of how practitioners and patients can embody the model.
For practitioners:
Listen to Serve. Rachel Naomi Remen says that the doctor’s role should not be to fix or even help, but to serve.
She says, “If helping is an experience of strength, fixing is an experience of mastery and expertise. Service, on the other hand, is an experience of mystery, surrender and awe.”
In her book Narrative Medicine, Rita Charon (2006) recommends that doctors invite patients to speak without interrupting, asking them, “What do you think I should know about your case?” She listens for symptom onset, location, duration, and so on, but she also listens for nuance. How do the patients describe their symptoms? How are their lives impacted? What is important to them? Sometimes, she asks a patient, “Tell me about your scars.” Then, she listens.
In the biomedical model, where the doctor is on a hunt to uncover the broken or missing piece, patients are interrupted an average of 18 seconds after they begin speaking.
In many naturopathic consultations I’ve conducted, patients speak for thirty minutes or more, while I quietly listen, reflect nonverbally, and take notes before asking a single question.
In medical school, we were taught how to take a case, including mnemonics to help remember the key questions to ask. Now, 10 years in, I find that simply listening to patients provides me with the information I need to know, and more.
Perhaps this is why naturopathic doctors are often referred to as “Physicians Who Listen.”
According to Engel, doctors must learn to be high-level interviewers, versed in the cultural determinants of how patients communicate disease symptoms. How we talk about our bodies reveals our relationships with them, our experiences with symptoms, and the early life experiences that shape our bodies.
In the doctor-patient interview, the doctor must listen to understand and validate the unfolding story that led someone to feel unwell and seek help. This means identifying biological symptoms and holding space for the psychological and social elements shaping how the person suffers, and healing might begin.
Charon posits that a medical interview must allow for a layered, nonlinear, and metaphor-rich narrative. How does the patient tell their story, and what are their experiences with symptoms? What details do they choose to include? Or omit? Narrative thinkers like Rita Charon and Gabor Mate argue that our stories, or biography, shape our biology. They are just as important, if not more so, than the classic signs and symptoms that typically characterize a particular diagnostic category.
The doctor’s task is to help patients name their feelings and bear witness to the patient’s experience of dysphoria or dysfunction. They must listen for and begin to untangle the threads that shape the suffering and the individuals’ desire to wear the mantle of “patient” and entrust their body to care.
Begin with humility. The patient is the expert on their own body. While you may have spent hours studying this particular organ or condition, the patient has spent years, even a lifetime, living with it.
Science, while the best methodology we have for encountering the truth, is still just an approximation that we use until something better comes along. Knowledge is always incomplete. According to Babette Rothschild (2021), even the most evidence-based treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder will not help more than 50% of clients.
Even the most thoroughly researched cure will not benefit everyone. Nothing in medicine, psychology, or sociology is a hard fact. Science is a big, unanswered question.
In the words of Rachel Naomi Remen, “The patient is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be met.”
Remember why you wanted to be a doctor. If you’re like me, you were captivated by the awe and mystery of not knowing. You’ve studied and practiced medicine for years, and the not-knowing still hangs before you, lighting the way on.
My question to practitioners is this: Can you meet your patient, head down in reverence and awe, with curiosity and compassion, without the need to fix? Can you sit in the discomfort of uncertainty?
Practice systems thinking. From a systems perspective, rather than a reductionist one, each part is integrated and interacts with its layers and within the whole. What layer must be addressed first?
Consider how social forces like poverty, racism, and social categories may affect patients’ symptoms and their ability to heal. Ask how organs, cells, molecules, diagnoses, lab results, and the social and psychological interact. What threads are present, and how might they weave and knot together?
See the person, not the problem. Michael White (2016), the developer of Narrative Therapy, is famous for saying, “The person is not the problem, the problem is the problem.” When we separate people from their problems, we leave room for stories of suffering and strength. We can hold and better listen to their stories, while tackling the problem without erasing the person.
Centre patients as the experts on their own lives and their bodies. Flatten hierarchies and de-centre practitioner power. Educate with curiosity, not to fix or dictate. Leave room for questions and doubt. Learn to roll with resistance rather than fighting against it.
Instead, get curious. Why might these recommendations not be landing for the patient? Ask if the diagnoses and treatment plans make sense to them. And then ask: What matters most? What do you notice? What are you ready for?
Ask patients what threads they would like to tug first. Addressing patient issues and developing plans involves a patient-centred, collaborative approach in which courses of action are suggested, tried, and evaluated for feedback. This way, an intricate dance happens between the patient and the practitioner (Graham et al., 2023).
Self-care. Finally, practitioner burnout is real. Ensure you regulate your nervous system, make space for reflection, and seek support as needed.
For patients:
Trust yourself. Health is not just the absence of symptoms or the relief of pain; it is the sense of wholeness, coherence, and aliveness in your body and your being. Normal lab results don’t cancel out your suffering; a diagnosis cannot fully contain your story. Your instincts and insights are also essential data.
You are not a broken part needing repair, but a whole person, complex, relational, and worthy of care. If something feels wrong, trust that. If you feel unseen, trust it. Your frustration is valid. Your symptoms are messengers.
You deserve understanding, presence, comfort, care, and a path forward.
Empower yourself within the system. Our healthcare system is stretched thin, and sometimes, your suffering may be overlooked. This is not because you don’t matter; it isn’t always because your doctor doesn’t care. Sometimes, even the most well-meaning practitioners work within an overwhelmed structure.
Before your appointment, take a moment to ground yourself. Breathe into your belly. Feel your feet beneath you. Gather your thoughts and write them down. Bring someone who can hold space, ask thoughtful questions, and accurately remember what is said.
Write down your questions before you go. Appointments move quickly, and it’s easy to forget. Describe your top two or three concerns and how they shape your days, energy, and life. Be honest about what you’ve tried, what’s helped, and what hasn’t.
If something feels off, you can gently point it out. “Could we look at this another way?” “This doesn’t quite fit.” “Would you be open to checking this?” If it’s difficult to speak, consider having someone speak on your behalf. You deserve to be witnessed.
Afterward, write down what was said, how it landed, and what you wish you’d asked. Over time, this will build a personal health narrative you can revisit and share with future providers.
Participate in your healing. Responsibility is not about blame. You are not expected to carry everything alone, but you are invited to become a curious, compassionate student of your own body. We can reclaim our agency.
Start by paying attention. Track your symptoms, not obsessively, but as an act of self-witnessing. Look for patterns: what soothes, what aggravates, what precedes the flare or the crash. Learn the basics of your biology and mind: how stress ripples through your system, blood sugar, trauma, hormones, sleep, and your nervous system speak. What are their symptoms, signs, and sensations? You don’t need to diagnose yourself, but knowing your inner landscape helps you recognize when something feels true and when it doesn’t.
Your voice matters, too. Healing is a dialogue. Informed consent is about being an active participant in the conversation. This means learning to describe what you feel, notice, and need.
Pain, for instance, can be more than just “it hurts.” What kind of pain is it? Where does it live? Is it burning, tight, dull, or pulsing? Does it move or stay in place? Is it eased by warmth, made worse by movement, or does it come on with memories or moods? The more we can narrate what we carry, the more we can be seen.
When it comes to tools, focus on what’s within reach. You don’t need a life overhaul or expensive therapies. Sometimes, healing begins with the most minor shift: more rest, a nourishing meal, honouring a boundary, a walk in the sun, or a moment of joy.
The human body requires fresh air, water, sunlight, physical activity, restful sleep, nutritious food, and social connection. While finding a balance of these isn’t always easy, sometimes, the solutions are simpler than we think.
Build yourself a circle of care. No single practitioner can hold everything we carry. If it’s within reach, widen your support: consider consulting a naturopathic doctor to explore root causes, a therapist to help map your inner world, a nutritionist, an acupuncturist, or a massage therapist. Each practitioner can offer a different lens and a different kind of listening. Ask about referrals, covered services, sliding scales, or community programs.
You are allowed to ask for more, to want a second opinion, and to assemble a community of support that sees you more fully. If you have coverage, use it. If you need a referral, ask. If a door closes, it’s ok to knock on another.
Seek information from people you trust. Let wisdom be relational and guided intuitively. Be cautious of algorithms, especially those that induce fear or urgency.
Above all, refuse to give up on yourself. I always believe there is a path toward feeling better. Even when we can’t fully restore the body, healing can still occur through meaning, connection, presence, and peace. Your body is not betraying you. I believe symptoms are cries from the body that deserve to be heard.
Healing begins when we stop reducing people to their symptoms and begin seeing them as whole beings, complex, feeling, and worthy. You deserve care that honours not just your biology, but your personhood, spirit, and life.
You deserve to tell your story and have someone receive it with attention and care.
You deserve a physician who listens.
References:
Charon, R. (2006). Narrative medicine. Oxford University Press.
Dossett, M. L., Fricchione, G. L., & Benson, H. (2020). A new era for mind–body medicine. New England Journal of Medicine, 382(15), 1390–1391. https://doi.org/10.1056/nejmp1917461
Fricchione, G. (2023). Mind body medicine: A modern bio-psycho-social model forty-five years after Engel. BioPsychoSocial Medicine, 17(1). https://doi.org/10.1186/s13030-023-00268-3
Graham, K. D., Steel, A., & Wardle, J. (2023). The converging paradigms of holism and complexity: An exploration of naturopathic clinical case management using complexity science principles. Journal of evaluation in clinical practice, 29(4), 662–681. https://doi.org/10.1111/jep.13721
Kusnanto, H., Agustian, D., & Hilmanto, D. (2018). Biopsychosocial model of illnesses in primary care: A hermeneutic literature review. Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care, 7(3), 497. https://doi.org/10.4103/jfmpc.jfmpc_145_17
Mankelow, J., Ryan, C., Taylor, P. C., Atkinson, G., & Martin, D. (2022). A systematic review and meta-analysis of the effects of biopsychosocial pain education upon health care professional pain attitudes, knowledge, behavior and patient outcomes. Journal of Pain, 23(1). https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpain.2021.06.010
Nakao, M., Komaki, G., Yoshiuchi, K., Deter, H.-C., & Fukudo, S. (2020). Biopsychosocial medicine research trends: Connecting clinical medicine, psychology, and public health. BioPsychoSocial Medicine, 14(1). https://doi.org/10.1186/s13030-020-00204-9
I, like most of my colleagues became a naturopathic doctor because of my own extremely disempowering experiences with the healthcare system.
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.”
Healthcare is constantly evolving, and so is the way we communicate its advancements. My friend’s experience highlights how much has changed—not just in medical technology and treatment approaches, but also in how healthcare professionals engage with patients. As understanding deepens and patient-centered care becomes the norm, it’s crucial to share these stories in ways that foster trust and transparency.
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.
“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?
“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 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.
In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus wrote that weariness awakens consciousness, that “Everything begins with consciousness. Nothing is worth anything except through it.”
In the last few months, I’d been weary—sleeping, eating, exercising, commuting, working, preparing for more work, sleeping, and repeat—but I didn’t feel any consciousness awakening, and I still felt like I was waiting for that “everything”, or at least something, to begin.
I wanted to immerse my bare hands in the soil of life—to feel the softness of joy, the moisture of awe, and the cool warmth of peace, between my fingers. I wanted to feel alive: for my soul to urgently thrust itself into each morning, as if the spinning world depended on it.
Instead, I was stuck in traffic.
In the world of natural health junkies, spiritual community dwellers, and backpacking hippies, a Ten-Day Vipassana Retreat is a right of passage. My friends, colleagues and fellow travellers all assured me that the experience changed them. They all reflected on their ten days spent in the woods in silence, sitting for excruciatingly long hours, as catalysts for growth. They’d burned off dead and stagnant parts of their egos, let go of their cravings, and emerged shiny, with a renewed zest for all their lives had to offer.
Listening to their stories, I imagined myself in their places: sitting mute and contemplative in the dark. Through eliminating all input, I expected the Universe (with a capital U, naturally) to reveal rich meaning beneath its monotonous surface. Plus, I heard the food was good.
So, I signed up. A few months later, with a backpack filled with drab clothes and a meditation cushion, I was driving to the Dhamma Torana Vipassana centre, located outside of Barrie, Ontario.
A sleepy hippie greeted me as a I pulled into a virtually empty, gravel parking lot at the entrance to the centre.
I got out of my car and smiled at him, “I’m here for the Vipassana retreat.”
“Yeah, man,” He replied with eyebrows raised, as if searching his brain for what I was referring to. “Hey, though, do you mind parking your car closer to that truck? There’s going to be a lot of us trying to fit in here.”
I looked around for evidence of this meditation-hungry crowd. Instead, there were a handful of cars parked, including a large black pick-up truck and my own.
“Sure,” I said, “Do you mind just watching my bag?”
I squeezed my car up against the truck. Now we were two cars huddled side-by-side in the large, empty lot. It looked ridiculous but, you know, we were a community now.
“I couldn’t lift the bag,” Said the hippie-turned-parking-attendant, half-apologetically. He’d left it on its side in the dirt. The bag contained two pairs of pants, two t-shirts, some shampoo, and meditation cushion. It probably weighed three pounds.
I smiled tightly at him, hoisted the bag onto my shoulder, and made my way to the registration house to get my room key. Then I headed over to the women’s side of the property to find my cabin.
The cabin was a tiny room containing two beds separated by a shower curtain. I was supposed to share with a roommate, but she hadn’t arrived yet.
How do you room with someone you can’t talk to or look at? I prayed that my roommate wouldn’t show up and that I’d get the room to myself.
I put my things away and headed to the dining hall for dinner.
We were told to hand over our electronics, writing materials, and other valuables. I handed over my car keys so that I wouldn’t be tempted to escape. As my things were being placed into bins, I felt like Austin Powers preparing to be cryogenically frozen.
In fact, the retreat centre, while beautiful, had prison-like undertones. Signs declaring “Course Boundary” stopped you from exploring—or going back to the parking lot. Days later I would stare at that sign longingly, dreaming of the freedom represented by my car. Men and women were segregated into completely separate areas of the property. We weren’t allowed to talk and make eye contact once the silence was imposed. We were also told not to bring flashy, tight or flamboyant clothes and so many of use looked like prisoners: heads down, attention turned inwards, clothes dark, loose and drab.
Dinner was vegan food. It was good. However, having been a recovering vegan in the past, I wondered if I’d finish the retreat like the parking volunteer, too weak to lift my own three-pound bag.
After dinner we were given a speech on the rules: no talking, texting, touching, making eye contact, gesturing, wearing tight clothing, doing yoga, running, writing, reading, sunbathing, killing (even mosquitos), sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll (or any other music, for that matter), alcohol, eating dinner (just some fruit for newbies), and so on. No Phone, no pets, no cigarettes. It was going to be a long ten days.
I couldn’t wait.
I wondered what amazing insights would emerge from these ten days of spacious silence.
It was time for the first meditation, after which we would observe the Nobel Silence. We settled onto our assigned cushions. I had brought my own meditation cushion and saw that others had brought their own supplies too. Many brought intricate contraptions for sitting: meditation benches, special blankets, chairs, back rests, and knee pads. Rather than preparing to sit for an hour, it looked like they were readying themselves to enter the Earth’s orbit.
The meditation started. The teacher of Ten-Day Vipassana retreats, S.N. Goenka, is dead and so instruction is delivered by a series of tapes he’d recorded, presumably, while still alive.
One of the two assistant teachers pressed play and Goenka’s chanting began. Goenka’s would be the only voice I’d really hear for ten entire days, and it had an alarming amount of vocal fry.
I fidgeted throughout the hour of our first meditation. My meditation practice up until that point consisted of daily thirty-minute sits. I don’t think I’d ever sat for an hour. In fact, after twenty minutes, I’d usually experience numbness in both legs that sent me crawling around on all fours painfully trying to restore blood flow. During this first hour I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs. It wasn’t just me; silence in the hall was punctuated by the cacophony of restless shuffling.
Five more minutes of chanting followed by a gong finally signalled the end of my antsy misery. I slowly and silently got up, keeping my eyes inoffensively cast in front of me, and shuffled, among the tribe of other zombies, out of the hall and back to my quarters. It was barely 9 pm, but I flopped exhausted onto my little bed and immediately fell asleep.
The next day, loud gonging heaved me into the pitch-dark early morning. It was 4:15 am. I dressed in the dark, shuffled to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and headed to the meditation hall for the first two-hour meditation of the First Day.
The schedule was terrifying. We were to wake at 4:15 in the morning to sit for the first meditation, two hours, at 4:30. A gong would then signal breakfast for 6:30 am, after which we’d sit for another hour of meditation. Then we were to return to the meditation hall or go to our rooms and sit for two more hours. Lunch was at 11:00 am, followed by another break. Then, four hours of meditation followed by a snack break, where new students were allowed to eat fruit and drink tea. There was no dinner.
After the snack break, was another hour-long meditation, then a discourse where we were to watch Goenka lecturing—the only entertainment of the day. Then more meditation—45 minutes. Bedtime was 9:30 pm. Lights were to be out by 10 pm. With the first wake-up gong sounding at 4:15 in the morning, and nothing to do in the evenings, I doubted that the early bedtime would be a problem.
The first thing I did was count: eleven hours of meditation. Each day I was to spend eleven hours sitting on a cushion, keeping my back straight, and watching my breath. Besides eating, and walking in the forest during breaks, that was to be my life for the next ten days. How was I going to handle this?
“I think you’ll make it to day seven and then decide you’ve had enough,” a skeptical friend had told me before I’d left. I’d been insulted. Now I doubted my own convictions. Day Seven seemed very far away.
Most of my friends had told me that they’d wanted to leave by Day Three.
By Day Two, however, I was done. My legs and back ached and, halfway through the second day, I decided that I couldn’t do another second of meditation. “I can’t do this anymore!” I exclaimed in my head. Besides Goenka’s, the Voice in My Head was the only voice I’d had access to for the last two days. And it happened to be mistaken. I kept on.
During my 32 years on the planet, I don’t believe I’d spent a day without communicating in some way, shape or form with another human being. Since I could put words together, I hadn’t spent a day in silence. Since I could read and write, there wasn’t a day in which I hadn’t engaged with some form of written text.
I missed it. While taking bathroom breaks, I stared intently at the sign outlining the shower rules. I fascinatedly read about using the hair catcher while showering. I read how we were to clean it out after and dump any hairs in the garbage. I studied the rules about drying and squigeeing the shower walls after use. “With Metta,” The notice signed off. With Metta. Withmettawithmettawithmetta. I read the words over and over again. Bathroom reading. It might as well have been War and Peace.
I expected the days to soak me in serene silence. I was wrong. As it turned out, my head was louder than an elementary school cafeteria during lunch hour. But, unlike the lunch break, there was no end to the noise.
“I eat brown food in the morning with brown tea and green food for lunch with green tea,” My inner monologue babbled gaily. It was true: breakfast was always oatmeal and prunes, which I accompanied with black tea. Lunch was a green salad and some soup or curry. I ate it with green tea. “Maybe I can be vegan,” The Voice in My Head chattered, optimistically, “The food here is so good. I could eat like this all the time. I don’t even miss dinner! Maybe I should start doing more intermittent fasting. I wonder if they sell a recipe book, oh, I can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow morning!”
And, “What colour pants am I going to wear tomorrow? The brown ones or the black ones? Brown or black? Black or brown? Should I wear the brown ones with the white shirt and the black ones with the blue shirt? Or the blue ones with the—” I’ll spare you the rest.
I had entire conversations with people in my head. I wrote, rewrote, and edited monologues, conversations and imaginary dramas. I crafted responses from the characters I was arguing with. I practiced my lines and honed them.
I humbly discovered that it was not a chaotic world, filled with sensory distractions, that stifled some creative genius locked somewhere within; the chaos was removed and no genius emerged. Instead, when left to its own devices, my mind became a shallow simpleton bouncing senselessly to topics like the clothes I was wearing, the things I was eating, and people I was dating. How disappointing.
During the eleven hours of meditation, my mind and body rebelled. Every itch, twitch and irritation, mental or physical, would send me crossing and uncrossing my legs, refolding my hands, opening my eyes, and stretching my neck—anything to avoid actually meditating.
My only reprieve was meal times. I would wait for them, like Pavlov’s dog, salivating in anticipation of the gong that would release me from the hell of sitting.
On Day Three, however, I noticed something different. I was sitting in meditation and I wanted to move: do something, like cross my legs a different way. I felt tension and frustration rise within as I resisted the urge. The resistance was like a boulder to push against. It had edges, viscosity. I couldn’t push anymore. I relaxed, softened. I opened.
And with that, the resistance popped. I felt immediate relief.
It was as if my mind and body were wrapped in a crumpled fabric. Each knot and wrinkle resembled an agitation, a restlessness, a mania that arose from within my physical and emotional self. Pushing up against these wrinkles would only tighten them, causing more agitation. But, when I began to breathe, to dissolve their solidity, they began to soften, and pop, like bubble wrap. The fabric began to iron out. I was calm.
I started to notice bigger knots: my relationship with uncertainty, for instance, that seemed too monstrous to pop, however the mini bubbles of impatience started to disappear as they arose, one by one.
Openness.
Openness provides relief from suffering.
Maybe I could survive this.
On Day Three Impatience and I got to know each other. Impatience has been a theme in my life, a low-level agitation that manifests in restlessness: my desire to connect on social media, to distract with technology and day-dreaming, to tweeze hairs and do dishes instead of doing work, and to lurch through life with my head pushed forward, oblivious to my surroundings.
I moved through life like I ate: inhaling a fresh spoonful before swallowing the first. I wasn’t tasting my food. I wasn’t tasting life.
During one particularly turbulent moment in meditation, when a wave of impatience hit, so did a series of images: family weddings, babies being born, pets passing away, family members passing: images of events that had not yet occurred, but almost certainly would. I was racing towards the future, which would bring me both wonderful experiences and inevitable pain. And, of course, at the end of it all would be the end of me. What was the rush?
I brought my attention back to my breath. Some more knots in my mind’s fabric opened.
On Day Four I recognized that, at the heart of this impatience was a craving for certainty. Underneath that craving: fear.
What I am afraid of? I asked the blackness.
Almost immediately, from some depths of my psyche, the answer surfaced.
I’m afraid to suffer.
Suffering, the Buddha’s first Nobel Truth. Life is suffering, or Dukkha. Like every other being who had ever lived, as long as I was alive I would suffer. If I craved certainty, then this was it.
We began to practice Vipassana on Day Four. For the past three days, my entire world had been reduced to the rim of my nostrils where my breath passed. The technique of focussing on the breath at the nostrils is called Anapana, and its goal is to sharpen and focus the mind.
Vipassana, or the development of equanimity regarding the impermanence of nature, and the truth of suffering, focusses on body sensations. We first began to scan the body from the tips of the toes to the top of the head (“Staaart from. the. topofthehead. Top of. Thehead,” Chirped Goenka’s voice on the recordings), a relatively simple technique in theory that proved to be excruciating in practice.
If the first few days had introduced me to the manifest agitations and disquiets in my body and mind, Day Four presented me with the full-on war raging within. For three hours a day we were to resist the urge to move. My body was on fire.
Demons in my head commanded me to move, get up, scream. Others shouted at me to stay still. Still others urged me to quit. Amidst their shouts was harrowing physical misery.
I felt like I was under the Cruciatus Curse. In fact, the whole retreat was starting to seem like a JK Rowling novel, or some other Hero’s Journey. I had set out to conquer evil only to find that all evil came from within, and was now being asked to face it bravely, conjuring up a Patronus of equanimity to protect me from being consumed by this hellish fire.
“The only difference between a Ten-Day Silent Vipassana Retreat and a Harry Potter novel is that ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ is literally everything,” I thought, sardonically.
From Days Four to Five, I emerged from every sitting broken and exhausted. Being on Day Five was like reaching the middle of a claustrophobic tunnel. I was halfway through and still had just as far to go. I scanned the deadpan faces of the crowd during mealtimes to see if anyone else had spent the last hour being electrocuted.
Goenka said the sensations of fire and electricity were Sankaras, mental cravings that embed themselves in our physical bodies and cause suffering. An intense sensation was simply one of these Sankaras floating to the surface of the body. If we met it with “perfect equanimity”, it would be eradicated, and we would be cleared out for our next incarnation.
These body sensations—the sharp, twitching, numb, searing, blinding, and even pleasurable— were a representation of nature itself. Sensations arise in the body and pass away; they are impermanent, Anitya. Through first being aware of them, and then meeting them with openness, without clinging or aversion, we can be free from suffering.
“Maintain perrrrrrfect equanimity. Perrrrrrfect equanimity, with the understanding of Anitya.
“Anitya…. Anitya….” Goenka’s recordings crooned.
Sapiens author Yuval Noah Harari, also a long-time Vipassana practitioner, states, “Meditation is about getting to know the most ordinary, daily, natural patterns of the mind, body and emotions, to observe reality as it is. If you can observe, to some degree, reality as it is, without running away to stories and fictions, you will be a more peaceful and happy person.”
Well, I certainly wasn’t happy.
On Day Five I was being burned at the stake. Someone had lodged a red hot poker into my right flank, just to mess with me. “I will never be able to walk again,” My mind blabbered, “This is torture. I’m becoming permanently injured. I can feel the meniscus in my knees slowly tearing—“
Goenka’s chanting began, indicating we had five more minutes of this hell. I relaxed, even though we still had five more minutes of this hell. The mind is a ridiculous thing.
—Donnnnng….
Freed by the beautiful, beautiful music of the gong, I sprang up. I expected to hobble, in pain, clutching at my back, working out stiffness in my knees. I anticipated the inevitable sharp pain that would appear in my ankles as I took my first step.
Yet, as I walked out of the meditation hall to stand in the July sun, I noticed that there was not a twinge of pain, a tightness, nor an ache to be found. My body felt perfectly fine. On the contrary, I actually felt great: light and supple. It felt like I was floating.
Hm.
By the time Day Six arrived, I was greeting the pain like an old friend. I noticed that discomfort came, not from the sensations themselves, but from the mind’s anticipation of and resistance to them. If I expected an arising sensation to be painful, I would brace myself against it, creating tension. And, after the sensation had faded, my mind would still grip it, creating a story of aversion.
So, I stopped calling it pain. Instead, it was a series of sensations: numbness, vibration, tingling, spark, heat, radiation, burning, but not pain. I noticed the sensations that disappeared as soon as they materialized, like shooting stars across my back. Others were solid, like clumps of cement hanging out in my body for the entire hour. I now easily sat for an hour without moving, watching this orchestra of sensations transpire across my flesh.
The war was ending. I was winning.
I was free.
Four days to go.
Anitya.
Sometimes impermanence isn’t fast enough.
On Day Seven, I settled into meditation, welcoming it now. I dropped into my breath, and began practicing Vipassana, sweeping my attention over my body, observing the sensations that were present, just as Goenka instructed.
Curiously, the sensations dissolved. There was no sensation, there were no Sankaras, there was no body. I could still feel the line where my lips met, and where my hands came together in my lap. Other than these two black outlines drawn in space, I had dissolved into ether, the atoms of my body emitting a subtle vibration that merged with those that surrounded it.
It wasn’t surprising. For the last seven days I’d been eating oatmeal and meditating in the woods without speaking to anyone. Now my entire body was evaporating. Nothing was surprising anymore.
I later learned that this phenomenon was called a “Free Flow”. It results from absolute openness: from a mind that is both equanimous and subtle. Solidity dissolves, and what is left is the vibration of atoms, all transient, anitya. All impersonal, Anatta.
The Three Buddhist Marks: Anitya, Anatta, Dukkha.
Impermanence, Non-Self, Suffering.
Now that I was One with, whatever it was I was one with, I figured I might as well seek some spiritual answers. Or at least make a wish or something.
I thought of what I most wanted in the world. “I want connection,” I told the Universe, “I want deep, connected relationship.”
Amidst the vibrations, something answered. A simple, Why?
Hm. Why, indeed? I’d never entertained the question.
I want to be loved, emerged my answer, from I-didn’t-know-exactly-where, since I was currently nothing. It was like my heart was speaking instead of my head. The utterance arose out of space, before dissipating, like smoke rings from a caterpillar’s hookah. Then, there was silence.
The energy, or entity, or my Higher Self, whoever I was talking to, seemed amused at my naivety. I could feel her compassionate chuckle vibrating into the atoms that buzzed where my body had once sat.
You already are,
the amused response manifested from the darkness into which I was dispersed.
You already are.
And, at that moment, nothing seemed more true. Nothing can give us what is already in our basic nature.
The Therapeutic Order is a tool that helps guide naturopathic treatment approaches. I explain how naturopathic doctors’ healing philosophy might differ from the conventional medical model.
Hi, guys, I’m Dr. Talia Marcheggiani and I’m recording to you guys from my clinic in Bloor West Village and today I’m going to talk about some myths about naturopathic medicine, especially regarding our relationship with conventional medicine and medications and, in order to talk to you about that, I want to talk to you about something called the Therapeutic Order. So the therapeutic order is from our traditional roots in the formation of the profession of naturopathic medicine. This is one of our philosophical ideas about how to treat somebody that comes in our door and how people should be treated in terms of the medicine that we practice. And this is a 7-step process, or a hierarchy, of what our treatment goals are for seeing somebody. And the reason that I’m relating the Therapeutic Order to medications is because one of the steps in this hierarchy of the Therapeutic Order is pharmaceutical medication. And so I feel that, in naturopathic medicine, most of us, and certainly in our philosophy, in regards to medication, it’s not that we don’t agree with medication or surgery or conventional treatments, it’s our agreement about when they’re implemented and it’s also about our efforts to treat patients before the need for surgery or medications arises. And so, the Therapeutic Order is a system of interventions and we go from lower-force interventions to higher force interventions and the first step in the Therapeutic Order is to remove obstacles to health.
In modern healthcare, both naturopathic and conventional medicine strive for the same goal—restoring and maintaining a patient’s well-being. Naturopathic doctors emphasize prevention and addressing the root causes of illness before resorting to pharmaceuticals or surgical interventions. This approach aligns with the Therapeutic Order, ensuring that treatment starts with the least invasive methods first. However, when necessary, medications play a crucial role in managing conditions that require immediate intervention. The key lies in knowing when to integrate pharmaceutical solutions within a broader health plan rather than relying on them as the first line of defense.
So, anytime someone walks into my office, and is displaying certain symptoms, I’m always looking for, what are the obstacles that their body is facing when it’s trying to achieve its optimal state of health and wellness. Our bodies have evolved over 300 billion years, from whatever our common ancestor was, that first created life, we’re this result of a lineage of survivors, if we’re here on the planet today. And so our bodies have evolved amazing mechanisms to preserve our health and well-being to ensure that our genes are carried on to future generations. So when somebody is coming in in the initial stages of disease, and so this may manifest for you as just this subclinical feeling of “imbalance”, for lack of a better word, there’s often an obstacle in the way. And a big obstacle that often presents itself in my patients’ lives is stress. That’s one that’s huge and that’s the reason that I talk about it so often. Another is toxic burden from our environment. Things like pesticides, plastics, smog pollutants in our air, in our water, in our food, that can also cause an obstacle to health or just give our bodies some extra things it has to deal with that divert it from its job of making us feel and look our best. And another thing, of course, is diet that’s inadequate, that’s not providing us the nutrients that we need or a diet that’s providing us with anti-nutrients, so it’s preventing us from absorbing the vitamins, the minerals and the macronutrients that we need to function optimally.
And some naturopathic doctors will focus on the energetic aspect, the spiritual aspect. So, is the person in front of them pursuing a meaningful life, do they feel satisfied with their work, are they satisfied with their relationships. So, anytime one of these major pillars of our health is lacking that can also present an obstacle to us feeling our best. And oftentimes the obstacle is a mental-emotional one, even if the symptoms that are manifesting are physical.
So, another video that explains this is my wheel of balance video in talking about stress and when I work with mental health, a stage to mental health promotion is emotional wellness, which is why I use that term so often, rather than focusing on eradicating or eliminating or managing symptoms of mental “illness”—and I prefer to say mental health conditions, rather than mental illness—how can we improve our emotional wellness, how can we improve our mental wellness, as opposed to focusing on disease.
Most naturopathic doctors will focus on this level, this will be inherent in our philosophy we’re always going to be looking for what the obstacles are that are in the way of our patients’ achieving symptom-free lives or a life of low or no symptoms, and a life of abundant wellness and energy, and healthy weight management and healthy mood and all of the things that indicate robust health. This will always be inherent in our philosophy.
The second step in the Therapeutic Order is to stimulate the Vis, so this is the “vis medicatrix naturae”, which is Latin for the healing power of nature, which may seem a little bit woo woo to some people, but you can think of the Vis as metabolism or homeostasis, and this is the idea that our body is primed for optimal health, and our body is always striving to maintain balance. And there’s this idea in naturopathic philosophy that sometimes this inherent energetic mechanism that causes life and all living beings, that sometimes it needs to be stimulated and oftentimes the therapies to do this are more in the energetic realm. So things like homeopathy and acupuncture and hydrotherapy as well, so using water and various temperatures to increase metabolism, hormonal balance, homeostatic balance and blood flow, so those are all scientific terms for what I think the Vis attempts to describe.
So, I tend also to use diet in this realm and herbs. I believe that herbs, and there’s some research for this, some evidence that herbs are modulating, that herbs, as opposed to drugs, kind of seek where things are lacking and they balance our hormonal milieu, our hormonal landscape, more than a medication, which is man-made and an example of this is that some people supplementing with straight vitamin A experienced some negative outcomes in large studies that were done. But if you eat foods that are high in vitamin A, those negative symptoms from vitamin A supplementation seem to balance themselves out and that’s because there are some nutrients present in vitamin and nutrient-rich foods that we haven’t discovered yet and that seem to act synergistically with other chemicals, natural chemicals, that are present in those foods. And so, by taking nature into our bodies through forest bathing, so physically being in nature, or through the consumption of plants and natural substances, I believe that we receive some of those messages from nature. And I can get into this in future videos. I find that herbs have intelligence behind them. And that’s not necessarily woo-woo or pseudoscientific, there’s some research for sure that show that herbs modulate through their anti-inflammatory effects, their anti-oxidant effects, and their hormone-balancing effects, in ways that pharmaceuticals don’t do to the same extent.
So, these two stages, when patients are coming in and we’re focusing our treatment, we’re removing obstacles and stimulating the body’s capacity to heal and you can think about this. If you break a bone, we’re definitely going to remove the obstacle, which is whatever broke the bone in the first place, and then we’re going to promote the body’s ability to heal. It’s not conventional medicine that heals the bone, we simply align the bone so that it can fuse together. It’s the body that heals it. So, we’d be promoting the healing of that tissue with some of the nutrients that the body needs. So this can be applied no matter how serious the medical condition, but definitely it will always be implicit in our treatment plans and how we look at the body. And sometimes that’s enough, if somebody is just coming in with a general feeling of imbalance or, you know, someone who’s coming in with a good state of health, without a loss of apparent symptoms that just wants to manage their health in general, then we’ll kind of stop there, but we might teach you some ways to detoxify, to encourage a healthy diet, and the healthy consumption of health-promoting foods and we’ll let you sort of maintain that on your own.
But what often happens is that people are coming in, because we’ve been taught in our culture in North America and Canada, especially, to come in and seek medical care when we’re feeling ill, a lot of the time people will come in with some kind of issue, so some specific symptoms, and oftentimes these symptoms are apparent or located within one organ system. And so the third step in the Therapeutic Order is to strengthen weakened systems. So this might be somebody who’s coming in a liver issue and this may be a diagnosed issue, or based on their symptoms, we’re noticing some impairment in the liver in general. And so we take treatment a step further and we start to focus on actually repairing the tissues that are present in the liver and so we’ll be using some, perhaps, liver detoxification, some more intense diets, so diets that are geared more to therapeutics, and using some herbs and nutrients to clean out the liver.
We can also use some of our energetics, at this stage, acupuncture, homeopathy, hydrotherapy, self-care practices, and we’ll definitely be removing obstacles to cure, so high-sugar diets, or overconsumption of alcohol, or a high toxic burden. We’ll be looking at those things as well, but we’re also taking it a step further and specifically focusing on the liver in this case.
At this stage of treatment, acupuncture therapy becomes a powerful tool to complement the healing process. By targeting specific points in the body, acupuncture helps to balance energy flow, reduce inflammation, and promote the body’s natural healing abilities. This approach is particularly beneficial for those dealing with chronic conditions or weakened systems, as it provides a holistic method to address underlying issues.
And this is something that I see most of in my practice, is people coming in with hormonal imbalance, with a mental health condition, with digestive issues, skin issues, hair falling out, and so we’re ordering labs, we’re targeting specific organ systems, and we’re, maybe not necessarily putting these symptoms into a diagnostic category, that would be diagnosed by a conventional doctor, so sometimes these are still subclinical, but there’s definitely symptoms present, people are suffering and they’re noticing a change and they’re probably have already sought help with their medical doctor and maybe were told everything was fine, or maybe they received a diagnosis.
The 4th stage in the Therapeutic Order is to correct structural integrity. So, if our posture, if our alignment is off, then our health is not going to work properly, there’s not going to be proper nerve conduction, there won’t be proper circulation, there won’t be proper functioning of our organ systems. If our rib cage is collapsed, we won’t be breathing properly and we won’t be oxygenating our tissues. If our pelvis is out of alignment we won’t experience proper digestion and digestive regulation. And I often refer out for this stage, I might refer to an osteopath or a chiropractor, or a physiotherapist or massage therapist. I might so some acupuncture myself, but typically for structural correction, I’ll refer to another practitioner and I myself see a massage therapist, chiropractor, osteopath and do quite a bit of hydrotherapy and work on aligning my body through yoga and things like that because of its importance and just general health maintenance.
Correcting structural integrity is essential not only for pain management but also for ensuring the body’s systems function optimally. A professional physiotherapist plays a vital role in this process, offering tailored exercises and manual therapies to improve posture, mobility, and strength. They assess the alignment of your body and identify any areas of restriction or dysfunction. Through targeted treatments, physiotherapists work to restore balance and proper alignment, helping to prevent issues from becoming chronic or leading to further complications. By focusing on the body’s structural health, physiotherapists ensure that everything from nerve conduction to organ function is supported.
While this is the 4th stage in the Therapeutic Order, I often recommend that it be implemented as some kind of healthcare strategy that focuses on structural integrity be implemented early on or as a maintenance, especially because we’re so sedentary and we spend so much time in front of our computers and often engage in repetitive exercise. Working on structural integrity management is so important.
The 5th stage in the Therapeutic Order is the use of natural substances to restore and regenerate. And so this is a little bit like symptom management, if you can imagine that. The objective of naturopathic medicine is not necessarily to fix a specific disease, which is often confusing, because we have a very disease-focused healthcare system, not necessarily a health-focused one. And so we’re sort of indoctrinated into this view that if you don’t have a diagnosis that you’re healthy, or that health is the absence of symptoms, which is certainly not the philosophy of the world health organization who believes that health is a mixture of our mental and spiritual and emotional and physical wellbeing and not simply the absence of disease, however we do have a sickcare system rather than a healthcare system, and so we’re educated not to go to the emergency room or your family doctor unless you feel like it’s serious enough to warrant a diagnosis and, if it’s not, then you’re often sent home and told everything’s fine. And patients will always come in having told me that their labs are fine. And they are, they’re fine in the framework of not requiring a diagnosis, or pointing to necessary pathology, but they’re certainly not fine in the sense that not things that we can improve on and that are not giving us warning signals of what could come in the future.
We often focus on disease prevention and healing the body rather than focusing on the symptoms or the pathology. We’re looking for the underlying cause. However, sometimes we get far enough along that we do need to manage symptoms, otherwise people aren’t going to notice benefit. And, so, further along the disease process, further along the naturopathic order we need to reach. To manage the diseases. These are a little bit higher-force interventions, rather than sort of encouraging tissue repair, like we were doing in the 3rd stage of the Therapeutic Order, now we’re focusing more on managing symptoms, managing inflammation through herbs that are going to calm it down quickly, and detoxify quickly, and we’re going to manage headaches with herbs, that are just generally anti-inflammatory. So we’re going to be looking at symptom-management. And so a lot of the time we’ll do that in conjunction with the other 4 stages of the Therapeutic Order, but this time there is a heavy focus on keeping symptoms under control for better quality of life and to move the needle further.
And the 6th step of the Therapeutic Order is similar to the 5th, except we’re using pharmacological devices and so it’s not that we’re against pharmacology and medications in naturopathic medicine, at all, we simply want to encourage patients to come and see us before things get to the point where you require medications and I certainly believe and I think even many conventional practitioners agree with me on this, that medications are probably too widely prescribed or over-prescribed. And this may be that there are no other solutions and, as a clinician, you want to help the person sitting in front of you and aren’t really sure how to go about that. So somebody comes in to your office who has depression and you’re going to reach for the selective-serotonin reuptake inhibitor, the SSRI, the Prozac or Cipralex, you’re not going to tend to risk using herbs or focusing on diet or digestion or those kind of things, you’re going to use this “proven method” and you’re going to implement that right away, whereas my philosophy would be to, depending on how serious the case is, to implement other interventions and make sure that our terrain is being treated, that we’ve removed some obstacles to cure, we’ve encouraged spiritual and life-meaning pursuits and we’re stimulating the body’s own healing mechanisms and anti-inflammatory mechanisms, and that maybe we’re directly targeting the brain with some nutrients and some vitamins and that we’re making sure structural integrity is there, and that we’re even using some herbs to manage depression because we know that St. John’s Wort works very similarly to an anti-depressant in terms of its efficacy. And then, if those things are not working or not having enough of an impact, then we might talk about an SSRI, depending on how severe the case is.
And I say this not to create a stigma around medication use at all. Every single body is different and everybody’s going to need a different treatment concoction and it’s never going to be just one treatment or very rarely will it just be one panacea, no matter how much we wish that there were, it’s going to be a few things that we need to implement to help manage our own health, so that’s when we’ll reach for the pharmaceuticals, when the natural treatments are not having enough of an impact, or the disease process has progressed far enough.
And then the last is the use of high-force interventions, so surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. When you’re diagnosed with cancer, then it’s definitely appropriate to do radiation and chemo or to excise the tumour, or if there’s joint degeneration to the extent that it can’t further be repaired, and you can’t sort of prevent it any longer, because you’ve reached the point where the cartilage in your joint is damaged, then a joint replacement is appropriate. It’s not that we’re against these things either, it’s that we believe in trying as hard as we can to prevent them from being necessary. But when appropriate, they’re definitely a gift that we have in our culture and the time that we live in that we can use these kinds of things to improve our quality of life and to get us back on track in terms of our health. And so very rarely will I see somebody who requires this stage of intervention, even naturopaths that work with cancer, their focus is not to treat cancer with natural therapies but to support the whole patient and to improve the outcomes of the high-force interventions, often an obstacle to healing from cancer is that patients aren’t able to finish their course of chemo due to the side effects, and so a lot of the natural therapies can help boost the efficacy of the medication and reduce the side effects and make patients feel better, so that they’re able to complete their treatment and then have better outcomes. So, at these two, the last two stages, where we’re using medications and high-force interventions, natural medicine is working to support the terrain and to support the body, through the therapies, through the side effects and to also encourage the therapies to work better.
And just to recap, the stages of the Therapeutic Order are first, number one, remove the obstacles to health, number two, stimulate the Vis Medicatrix Naturae, or stimulate homeostasis, improve our body’s self-healing mechanisms through applying nutrients, or looking at energetics, or using herbs to balance our systems and promote proper hormone balance. And the third is to strengthen weakened organ systems, focusing on one organ that may be the culprit in causing symptoms in particular, and really using nutrients that target that organ and the tissues that that organ has. Number four is to correct structural integrity, creating proper alignment and healing the musculoskeletal system through things like chiropractic medicine, osteopathy, massage therapy, even hydrotherapy and acupuncture, doing exercise like yoga as well fits under there. And number five is to use natural substances to restore and regenerate, so this is using natural substances to work directly with symptoms, to promote healing, but in patients that are further along the road to pathology and maybe already have a diagnosis of some health condition. And number six is to use pharmaco-substances to halt progressive pathology, so these are palliating, they’re stopping disease, they’re treating somebody who is either not responding enough or whose disease has progressed far enough that natural therapies are no longer strong enough. And then the seventh stage of the Therapeutic Order is to use high-force invasive modalities, such as surgery, radiation and chemotherapy and, again, these are removing the disease. Often that stage is usually life or death situations, we’re working to remove what’s causing a danger to our body and to our ability to survive. And so naturopathic medicine cover this whole spectrum. We have therapies that cover the whole spectrum of these stages and we’re working to treat the whole person not focusing on the disease or the symptoms, but looking at the person in front of us, and taking into account their lifestyle their preferences, their unique individuality and genetic expression and individual expression. My name is Dr. Talia Marcheggiani, I’m a naturopathic doctor and I work at Bloor West Wellness in Bloor West Village in Toronto. Take care.
I talk about 5 essential tools for caring for your mental and emotional health. These are powerful self-care practices that can help balance your mind and emotions.
Hello, everybody, my name is Dr. Talia Marcheggiani. I am a naturopathic doctor with a focus in mental health and hormonal health.
Despite the increasing amount of research into mental health conditions and psychiatric conditions, and the increase in interventions and early recognition and pharmaceutical therapies that come with mental health diagnoses, we’re actually seeing more debility in mental health outcomes: more debility, more morbidity. So we’re seeing worsening of outcomes even though we’re applying more interventions.
So, how could this be? You expect that the better the drugs that we’re developing, the less disease we should encounter, if those drugs are actually working to counteract the disease process. We’re not seeing that in the realm of mental health, especially when it comes to the common conditions such as depression and anxiety.
And when it comes to disease in the west, we’re not really winning the war against disease. So, things like cardiovascular disease, cancer, hormone imbalances such as diabetes, hypothyroidism, mental health conditions such as depression and anxiety, ADD and ADHD, infertility, neurological disease such as MS and Parkinson’s, autoimmune disease, such as, again, MS and things like Hashimoto’s Thryoiditis and myasthenia gravis, and immunodeficiencies such as HIV. All of these diseases are on the rise, all of these chronic, lifelong diseases. And so, despite these advances in research and drug development, we’re not seeing an improvement in our ability to manage these diseases or prevent them.
And there is obviously not one simple solution to this problem, but one thing I want to point our attention to is this increase in stress and this connection to stress and the diseases that I mentioned. Obviously it’s not just one cause, that would simplify the entire system to an almost ludicrous degree, but there is an estimation that 75-90% of hospital visits are either directly or indirectly related to stress.
And some of the symptoms of stress, so chronic stress or even acute stress, are an increased heart rate, elevated blood pressure, elevated blood sugar, decreased memory and cognition, disrupted levels of serotonin, leading to depression and anxiety, disrupted levels of the other hormones such as dopamine and norepinephrine, and addiction to stress, so a chance in the opioid receptors and the brain structure, altered hormone synthesis, increased inflammation, altered gut flora, etc., etc., and a change in the immune system. So, basically, every system of the body is affected by stress. And being in a prolonged, acute state of stress is lethal to the body.
So, we can look at the rise of cardiovascular disease and diabetes and the fact that stress increases our heart rate and increases our blood pressure and increases our blood sugar. And we can make some of those connections between the symptoms of stress and the diseases that are increasing in our society.
When it comes to mental health, we see how our neurotransmitters and our brain structure and our gut and our immune systems are affected by chronic stress and we can infer that some mental health conditions are either caused by or aggravated by this chronic stress situation. And, so, by not addressing stress and by not looking into stress and finding healthy ways to manage it, we’re doing ourselves a disservice in the management of these diseases and the prevention of them,
So, there’s a few theories that connect—there’s that Monoamine Hypothesis when it comes to mental health, that people with depression and anxiety have this inherent brain imbalance. So they don’t make enough serotonin, or their brains for some reason aren’t responding to serotonin. Again, it’s a very reductionistic model because it reduces all of the experience of depression and anxiety and conditions such as ADD and ADHD and bipolar down to one single neurotransmitter and it oversimplifies the entire system and the entire constellation of symptoms that people can experience and the life situations surrounding these conditions and the fact that they’re comorbid with things like stress and poverty and childhood trauma and those kinds of things.
But there’s some other theories that we can look at, and some other kind of pieces of the puzzle that we can add to create a more inclusive narrative. So there’s a theory called the Mind-Body Theory and this kind of arises as a counteraction, or a counter-philosophy to what Descartes discovered or decided that he discovered, which was that the mind and body are separate entities—this dualistic hypothesis. We know absolutely that that’s not true but our mind and body are completely connected and that our mind probably doesn’t reside only in our brain because our nervous system extends throughout the entire body and our minds are also inter-relational, so they’re a product our environments and our relationships with other people as well.
We know that the gut is the second brain, for the amount of neurons that it inhabits and the neurotransmitters that influence its function. Our gut health affects our mood depending on how healthy it is. And we call this connection, another word for it, a more scientific word, is “Psychoneuroimmunology”. This is the connection between the immune system, the nervous system, and our psychology, our mood: our thoughts and emotions. So, we know that everything in the body is interconnected and you can’t prescribe an antibiotic and not expect that there’ll be sequelae or consequences, or side effects that affect a different body system. And we see that all the time now, but we have to understand how tugging on one thread in this interconnected web is going to affect another piece of it further down the line.
There’s also this Energetic Model of mental health, and that’s that the emotions have their own energy. There’s this theory that the emotions can manifest as physical symptoms and we see this in the work of Gabor Mate, who writes extensively about stress and addictions and mental health, in his book “The Body Says No”. He talks about how the health of our thoughts and emotions impact our physical stress. And so it’s not just that our thoughts and emotions can impact our mental health, but also our physical health and might set the stage for us to get conditions like cancer, or autoimmune disease, and all of the other diseases that I mentioned.
So, when it comes to stress and our mental health and emotional wellbeing, we need to take a proactive approach. Just like we do with getting vaccinations, and preventing colds and flus, and getting proper nutrition, and exercise and all of that, we need to be strategic about how we manage our stress.
The World Health Organization defines mental health as “A state of well-being in which every individual realizes his or her own potential, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and is able to make a contribution to her or his community.” So, notice that this definition isn’t simply the absence of disease and it’s not necessarily a normalizing—being “happy” or not having a diagnosis. This definition is about realizing one’s potential and experiencing emotional “wellness”, for lack of a better word. So, an ability to cope with life’s stressors and to live a life of meaning and purpose.
So I want to talk about 5 tools that are really important for establishing a self-care and emotional wellness routine, for improving mental health. These strategies may not be sufficient enough for more serious psychiatric conditions, but I believe that they form the foundation of proper lifestyle strategies to help with increasing our emotional wellness and our ability to cope with life’s stressors.
So the first one I want to talk about is something called “Self-Care”, which is becoming kind of a buzzword in high-stress communities such as universities, and even some offices and corporations. So, one of the first things I want to talk about is the power of saying “No”. Sometimes saying No, especially for more agreeable individuals, and a lot of the time for women, saying no is a difficult thing for us to do.
When I give this presentation to a group I always ask them, “Why is it hard for you to say no? What would happen if you didn’t say no? Let’s say a friend invites you out and you’re just not feeling it, or you’re invited to a baby shower and it’s just more than you can handle and you wish you could say no, but you don’t.” And, one thing that everybody says is that they’d feel guilty, if they said no. This is sort of universal. And so I ask them, “What would happen if you didn’t say no? What would happen if you went along with it, even if you just didn’t have the energy to devote to this commitment?” And people say that they’d feel resentment. And so when it comes to deciding what things to take on and what things to discriminate against in terms of the tasks that we take on, the commitments that we make, we’re kind of stuck between this dichotomy between feeling guilt and resentment spectrum. One of my mentors, Gabor Mate, in his book “The Body Says No”, talks about when faced with this choice between guilt and resentment, especially when we’re more prone to guilt-avoidance by saying yes more often than maybe we should, he said “choose guilty every time”, because the feeling of guilt, and obviously this isn’t a hard or fast rule, but the feeling of guilt is more indicative that you’re taking care of yourself.
His theory as well is that resentment tends to build up in the body and contributes to the cause of more disease such as cancer and this cancer personality that he writes about is the woman that will say yes to things and is scared to say no out of guilt. So, resentment is far more damaging for the body and therefore, when trying to avoid guilt, maybe move towards guilt, especially when you know that you might be taking on more than you should. And also pay attention to the idea that when we say yes to things we’re saying no to other things. So, we’re always saying “no” and “yes”. We only have 24 hours in the day and so, by saying yes to that baby shower that you’d rather not go to, what are you saying no to? Are you saying no to doing a yoga class for you, or getting extra sleep, or saving your money for a family vacation? So, paying attention to those commitments that we make. There’s a great article online called “The Law of F- Yes! Or No.” And this law is, if you’re faced with a decision and you’re not feeling like this, “F- Yes!”, then say no and save that time and save those commitments for something else that you’re more enthusiastic about.
When it comes to self-care, there’s another great article that talks about the BACE method, so that’s BACE. And this stands for these 4 pillars of self-care. And the first one of body-care. So that’s making sure you have a healthy diet, that you’re supporting yourself nutritionally, that you’re getting movement in, that you’re sleeping enough. A is acceptance, just allowing the emotions, and that self-care, that self-love to come through. C is connection, so establishing those interpersonal relationships and prioritizing them, especially relationships that feel nurturing, where you can be your authentic self. And E is enjoyment, finding activities that are fun and cause a sense of enthusiasm and enjoyment in your life. And this is something that’s often a problem for a lot of adults with lots of responsibilities that, when I ask them to rate on a scale of 1 to 10 how much fun they have, or how satisfied they are with the amount of fun in their life, they often rate it pretty low.
A lecture that I attended, there was a woman who was talking about self-love and improving self-worth and recommends asking oneself this: “what would someone who loves themselves do? Or say?” and that can be pretty powerful for just examining how our internal dialogue is manifesting and how we’re talking to ourselves and treating ourselves. Would someone who loves themselves eat that? Or say that? Or do that activity or say yes to that commitment? And, you know, just sitting with that question can be really helpful for changing some behaviours, or adding perspective to our daily lives.
There’s also this, lastly in the realm of self-care, there’s this idea of Wu Wei, which is a Taoist idea, which is translated roughly into the art of “effortless action”. In our society we’re kind of educated to pair action with effort. So, we don’t feel like we deserve success unless our success was the result of a massive amount of effort that we’ve put in, and stress. And, according to wu wei, this idea that action is objective, we can measure it, but effort is subjective. So, you can see if you’re performing an action, but the perception of effort behind it is this kind of subjective and thought-based experience. So, we can do the laundry or DO the laundry. We can do laundry from a place of self-love and self-care, like “I want to care for my clothes, and to have nice clothes to wear tomorrow and I’m going to do this for myself and I’m going to be mindful as I do it”. And I’m going to do this out of necessity, but also out of a natural drive that’s coming from this place within. Or I can have laundry on my to-do list that’s causing me stress. So, sometimes even wu wei is about doing less and not feeling guilty for that.
The second tool for emotional wellness is journalling and writing. This is one of my favourites. So, journalling allows us to keep a record, to get creative, and to engage in self-expression. And when we write we engage both sides of our brains: the motor centres, the language centres, the centres that are involved in language perception and in language generation, also our visual centres. So, a lot of the brain is lit up in the act of writing and that can help integrate some of our deeper thought processes.
Writing down things leads to clarity and focus. We’re forced to deepen our thought processes and remove ourselves from some of the cognitive loops we might be engaged in. We can complete our thoughts and reach their inevitable, often ridiculous conclusions and this kind of comes from some core beliefs, or, we call them “automatic thoughts.” Like, “I’m a failure” or “I’m worthless”. Those kind of things that our brain generates based on past experiences that may not be relevant anymore to who we are now. Through writing we’re forced to look inside of ourselves, to causes and explanations for how we feel. We’re also able to express ourselves and rid the body of pent up emotions, such as anger and aggression and sadness, shame.
I often recommend that people write a letter. Especially if there’s someone in the past that’s done damage to them, or hurt them. Someone that they miss, sometimes remembering somebody through a letter: sometimes people wish that they could communicate with someone who’s passed away or is no longer in their life anymore and, through this letter-writing, you’re able to.
I also have people write letters to themselves from the perspective of their personality at age 80, and this can sometimes provide perspective for patients who are depressed and young, because it gives them an idea; it increases the perspective of their lives. And sometimes I have people personify and anthropomorphize their problems or addictions and write letters to that or write letters from that and through that process can learn a lot about the relationship between themselves and alcoholism, for example.
There’s another great activity I like called the “God Jar”, for people that have constant worries or wake themselves up at night and process things or who are anxious about the future—The God Jar or the Wish Jar. And so, you get a mason jar and little pieces of paper and you write things that you’re worried about or things that you’re anxious about or thinking about and you scrunch them up and throw them into this jar and, in essence, symbolically, you’re giving those problems to “God”, or to the universe or you’re just simply filing them away for later use. And this is sort of a subconscious, or conscious, dumping of your problems, especially if you don’t have immediate control over them. I mean, in the middle of the night you’re not going to be able to finish your taxes when you’re supposed to be sleeping, or solve a problem at work. And that can often worsen our problems, when we’re not getting enough sleep. Then I sometimes have people open up that jar 6 months later and take a look at some of the things they’ve written and that can also generate feelings of accomplishment and achievement and perspective when you find out that those things that you were so worried about 6 months ago are no longer even relevant and you barely remember them. So, it’s pretty powerful.
Another great exercise is something called a Gratitude Journal. And there’s a Ted Talk about this that, for 21 days, and I like to tell people to do this for a full month, 28 days. If you write 3 things that you’re grateful for at the end of the day for 21 days, it actually changes your brain structure and helps you see things in a more positive light and focus on the blessings, rather than the things that you lack. Our brains have a negative bias. So, they’re wired to pay attention to the things that we’re missing out on and that we’re lacking and when we focus on and acknowledge the things that are going right for us, it can sort of change our perspective. And, throughout the day, as you’re doing this exercise, you’re going to be paying attention to things that you’re going to have to write down later, so you’re paying attention to the things that went well, that you want to include in your gratitude journal. And this can have profound effects.
There’s some studies about journalling. And there was a study that showed that patients with HIV or AIDS, who wrote about their life for 30 minutes had an increased CD4 T cell count—and that’s the cells in the body that are affected by the HIV virus. So, by simply writing about their lives, something profound, it wasn’t just a grocery list. But writing something profound about their lives, such as sharing their life story, actually increased their immune system’s ability to function in the face of the HIV virus.
And then, similarly, there was another study in patient with rheumatoid arthritis—this is an autoimmune condition—they had these patients write for 20 minutes a day, for 3 days, and they found that their symptoms went down and their immunoreactivity went down. So we’re seeing these two studies, and we’re not exactly sure of the causal effect, these studies are a little bit correlative and very difficult to control for, because patients who are in the study, subjects know if they’re writing in their journal or not. But these studies were controlled against people who were just kind of mindlessly writing about grocery lists. So, it was writing about more profound concepts and sort of outlining a significant life event, or life story, or significant events that were happening in the day that had an emotional charge to them.
So, we find that engaging in journalling, even 20 or 30 minutes a day, can actually modulate the immune system. So, if you have a immunodeficiency issue, like HIV, it can increase immunoreactivity, and if you have an autoimmune disease like rheumatoid arthritis, or asthma, if can lower that immunoreactivity and inflammation. So there’s this evidence that journalling and our thoughts and emotions are directly impacting our immune system and our immune system’s ability to function and balance itself.
The third tool for mental and emotional wellness is interpersonal support. And, being a naturopathic doctor who does a lot of counselling in my practice, I tend to favour psychotherapy and counselling as a form of social support for people that don’t feel that they can be authentic or have that deep connection with people in their lives.
There’s evidence that loneliness is the new epidemic, especially in our society and, as social animals, connecting with others is part of our biology, part of who we are. Through therapy, what I really like about it, is it can help us reframe the past and our personal identity. We can start to identify some automatic thoughts and core beliefs, which are deep-seated beliefs that may not serve us anymore in the present and may actually be contributing to feelings of low mood or behaviours that are unwanted. It can also allow us to rewrite our life story, so, looking back on the past and reframing certain events, from the perspective of someone maybe with more resources and power. For example, someone with a history of trauma may have an idea of powerlessness and being victimized and, in every single story of trauma that I’ve encountered, people have always responded in some way. Either psychologically, mentally, emotionally, if not in action, and sometimes just recognizing these responses changes our whole perception of the event and our identities in the present, our ability to act in the present. So, there is evidence that stress is related to our perception of things that happen, not actually what happened. So, for example, imagine somebody that’s just broken up with their girlfriend and they were very in love. And you can image what their mental and emotional state would be like. Maybe the next day they don’t feel like getting out of bed, there’s clothes all over the floor, they haven’t brushed their teeth, they’re feeling extremely sad, and crying. And nothing has changed biologically in this person, but the situation surrounding their life has changed. Then imagine that this person wakes up the next day and they’re in this state of low mood and depression. And they get a phone call. And it’s their girlfriend saying, “you know, I’d like to get back together, I made a mistake, I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be broken up anymore.” So you can imagine that this person’s mood is going to change rapidly as the situation changes. And so, there is a change in their circumstances, but not in their physical biology.
And sometimes, in past events, there’s the story that our minds create around what happened, and then there’s the actual events that happened. So you might call your partner and they don’t pick up the phone, and we start to create a story about why that is. Maybe it’s because they don’t love us anymore, they want to break up with us, that we’re worthless, that no one’s ever loved us, that we’ll never find love, that we’ll always be alone. But, in actuality, we don’t know those things and the only thing that’s happening is they’re just not picking up the phone and there’s thousands of explanations for that.
We perceive situations based on our personal histories, our physical conditions, our state of minds, etc., and things that we’ve learned in the past and also our core beliefs. So, we filter our experiences through our perceptions and our identities and personalities and so, by understanding more about these things, we can understand why we pick out certain events and draw conclusions from the connection between those events rather than others. There’s some people that, when they fail a test, they just think, “Oh, it was a hard test, or maybe I didn’t study hard enough.” And there’s others that think “I’m a failure, I’ll never pass anything, there’s no point in trying, I’m dropping out of school.” And so it’s not just the event but our perception of the event that change our thoughts, mood and behaviours.
Another great thing that therapy and social support can do, is help us identify our passions and purpose in life. So there’s a psychological that I really like to listen to called Jordan Peterson that talks about how the purpose of life is not necessarily well-being and happiness, because happiness is a state that can be derived chemically, through doing things like cocaine, or substance abuse, and happiness might just be a disposition that certain people embody better than others and that life is suffering. And this is present in Buddhist philosophy that no matter how we live, we’re going to encounter events that are devastating for us, and that are hard for us to deal with. And so, in those situations, we’re not going to feel happy, so what’s going to drive us? What’s going to push us forward? What’s going to keep us going in those times and so his theory or idea is that we should look for what makes it worth it: what adds meaning to our life. What is our potential in life? What is our purpose? What gives us that sense of meaning such that, when we encounter these situations of suffering and hopelessness that we’re able to continue on. So, having a direction for our lives, and having a sense of identity and purpose that gets us up in the morning and makes us move forward, even when we’re not particularly feeling happy that day.
Therapy and social support are also great for just self-acceptance. So, having other people mirror back to us who we are and how we’re being in the world.
The 4th tool for emotional wellness is mindfulness and meditation, so very very powerful tools. It’s arguably very difficult to be healthy in this day and age without some form of mindfulness meditation, or meditation practice to combat the increase in stress that we encounter in our society. So, mindfulness is—there’s many different techniques, but the main tenant is just taking the perspective of the compassionate, detached observer to our thoughts, emotions and physical sensations. So, when we split our mind or watch our thoughts, we can get a better sense of awareness of how emotions and thoughts arise in our body, pass through our bodies, and how we’re not them—that there’s this observer role that we can also take, that we can watch ourselves from.
Mindfulness allows us to stay in the present and reframe certain situations and just slow time down so that we’re not victims to the whims of our biology, that we’re able to understand it a little bit more. And there’s a great resource on the internet called “Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction” that’s a secular kind of meditation by a man in Massachusetts called Jon Kabat Zinn and you can download body scan meditations or take a course in MBSR in your town. I highly recommend them; they’re really great for developing mindfulness practice.
There’s also yoga, and qi gong and tai qi, and these kind of integrated, mindfulness-based and physical exercises that can help slow us down, bring us into the present and help us observe our minds and emotions a little bit better. And there’re amazing for managing stress. There’s good evidence building about them helping us deal with stress and manage our mental health conditions.
And the 5th tool for mental and emotional wellness is to look at that mind-body connection that I mentioned before. The mind-body theory sees our thoughts and emotions as energy that can impact our cellular biology, from that idea of psychoneuroimmunology. And there’s increasing evidence about this and how calming our thoughts down, doing some mindfulness meditation, can affect our heart-rate and can affect our blood pressure, and journalling can affect how our immune system responds.
There’s this idea that if our thoughts and emotions aren’t processed properly they can become trapped and stagnated in the body and contribute to disease. So, Gabor Mate mentioned that resentment can build up and lead to things like cancer. It’s one of his theories that he’s observed through working with patients.
We know that there’s this connection between physical manifestations of symptoms and physical conditions and certain emotional causes. In medicine we know this because every time a study is done, a randomized control trial, two groups need to be divided amongst the subjects. One is given a placebo, an inert pill. And this idea that someone who believes they’re taking medicine will notice a positive effect, is something that we just take for granted, but we build into every single study that we do, if it’s a good study. So, this idea that you can take a pill, believe it’s helping you, and actually physically notice a change in your body is really remarkable. And this just proves that there’s this connection between the mind and body, that we can further explore and exploit.
So, there’s things like herbal remedies that help our body increase our cells’ resilience to stress and help manage the stress hormone cortisol. And these are some herbs called adaptogens. So, they literally help us adapt to stress. And these are things like withania or ashwaghanda, rhodiola, ginseng, even nervine herbs like St. John’s Wort and skullcap can help balance our neurotransmitters and our stress hormones and lower inflammation in the body.
Doing self-care things like getting a massage, or getting acupuncture can help. And there’s a study that compares acupuncture to Prozac, so getting one acupuncture session a week for 6 weeks was actually comparable to Prozac for decreasing symptoms of depression and anxiety.
In my practice I always address diet and gut health and just make sure people are absorbing their nutrients, that they’re guts are producing the proper amounts of neurotransmitters, that there’s the proper bacterial balance, that there’s no inflammation being caused by a gut dysregulation. And we also want to remove those external stressors that can be contributing to an impaired digestive system. So, there is this saying that “we are what we eat,” but more accurately, we are what we absorb, because you can eat a lot of stuff, but, depending on how you’re digestion is functioning, we might not be absorbing all of it and incorporating it into our body, into our cells.
So, inflammation in the gut, caused by a bacterial imbalance, or food sensitivities can impact our health and we have some evidence that depression and anxiety can be caused by some latent levels of inflammation in the brain. And we know that there is an impact on gut health and increasing levels of inflammation and also stress. And really lowering that stress response, healing the gut, can have huge impacts on our mood. Establishing routine, and sleep are major pillars. So, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a patient who felt mentally healthy when they had disrupted sleep. A lot of the time having a ritual around sleep and getting into a routine and waking up at the same time every day, really working on getting deep sleep—so avoiding electronic use before bedtime, trying to get as many hours before 12 am of sleep as possible, so preferably having a 10pm bedtime or winding down around 10 pm. Doing things like teas, or hot baths, or reading a book before bed or doing some yoga or stretches or meditation before bed to teach the body that it’s time to start relaxing is really important and has huge impacts on health, on our mood, on our emotional wellness, our ability to cope with stress, our ability to heal from stress, and our ability to balance inflammation and the immune system.
There’s evidence that exercise—I mean exercise is arguably the first-line therapy for someone with depression, especially someone under the age of 24. Instead of reaching for pharmaceutical interventions, such as selective-serotonin reuptake inhibitors, more psychiatrists are recommending exercise to young patients, which is wonderful. I’m so happy about that! And, so 30 minutes of a moderate to intense form of exercise such as weight training, or running or moving your body, can help release some of those trapped emotions, as well as boost those neurotransmitters and help our body increase its resilience against stress.
And then, finally, I just want to point out that making sure that we’re supporting our neurotransmitter synthesis through diet is really important. So, making sure that we’re getting enough magnesium, zinc and B vitamins, and proteins and amino acids, which are all helping us create the neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine that are going to impact our mood and mental health. So, we can journal, but we are physical beings, and we are a product of our biology. So, by supporting that biology through proper nutrition, we’re able to incorporate those nutrients and create the proper components of our body for proper mental and emotional wellness.
So, I also like to ask people this miracle question. So, this is the final thing that I’m just going to conclude on. The Miracle Question is from a modality called “Solution-Focused Therapy”. And this question is, “if you woke up tomorrow and all of your issues were completely gone, you woke up in an amazing 10 out of 10 state of energy and physical well-being and mental and emotional well-being, what would be possible for you? What would your day look like?” If you can stand in that place and sort of write down what you’re aiming at, what you’re aiming towards, it helps set the stage for taking the proper actions that preserve your mental and emotional wellness. And it also helps you stand in a new territory, one that’s not of disease or illness, but one of possibility.
And, finally, I was at this free meditation circle as we were talking about self-love, and we were talking about how difficult it can be to love oneself. Because, oftentimes we have these core beliefs that drive our psyches and oftentimes these core beliefs are negative. And so what was said was that it’s often hard to stand in a place of self-love when you’re intent on changing things and you’re not happy with where you are now. And so, he said, the person running the meditation said, “self-love is like a garden. So, you can nourish the soil and water the seeds, but you can’t actively force the garden to grow.” So what you can do is, you can take care of the things you love in yourself, all the things that you have in your right now, rather than trying to be somewhere that you’re not currently at. And this is kind of like when you have, for parents out there, if you have a child, you love your 4-year old child, and you don’t put expectations on them that you would a 25-year old. So, you’re loving your 4-year old at where they’re at, but also recognizing that this is somebody who is developing and so you’re loving their potential to develop, just as you’re loving their 4-year old incarnation, their 4-year old manifestation of their personalities. So you’re loving their potential to grow, just as you love the seeds that you’ve planted in your garden, but you’re also loving things where they’re at. And through that act of self-love and tending to the garden, or tending to your child, you’re encouraging that growth and development in the directions that you want.
My name is Dr. Talia Marcheggiani. I’m a naturopathic doctor and I work in Bloor West Village, in Toronto.
