I recently saw a woman who was desperate for answers about why her body did certain things. Seizures, pain, and fatigue plagued her existence and prevented her from having a “normal” life. She had seen numerous doctors and undergone numerous investigations, with “no cause found” always being the outcome. Every search for a diagnosis ended with the same conclusion: secondary to post-traumatic stress disorder. Because she had a history of significant trauma, her symptoms could be labelled thus, especially in light of there being no space-occupying lesion in her brain, identified autoimmune disorder, or novel biochemical disruption. Any pharmaceutical treatment that was trialled ended in a medication side effect disaster and contributed to her rising panic.
I don’t know how many doctors she had consulted before me, but I knew within minutes that I wouldn’t find a cause or a cure that my colleagues seemingly hadn’t.
I have watched many individuals dedicate years to medically unexplained symptoms, searching amongst the weeds for the elusive needle that will pick up the thread and make sense of what is happening to them. People seek a physical or environmental cause, but in many cases, there isn’t one. They can also become preoccupied with the search for a cure, and I have watched many unsuccessful dollars being thrown at various novel products that do not deliver the desired resolution. However, it does not mean that their experience isn’t real, or that they’ve somehow caused what is happening to them, but a different approach can yield more satisfying answers.
After many years of witnessing these scenarios repeatedly, I was drawn to the work of New Zealand immunologist and psychotherapist Dr Brian Broom, “…described as a ‘philosopher physician,’ with a passion for ‘whole person’ approaches to physical illness and disease. In his work, he combined immunology and psychotherapy practices, and began to see rich associations between patients‘ life experiences and their physical disorders. He initiated an in-depth exploration of both the practical and theoretical implications of this, leading to the development of the medicine and story approach to physical illness.” This perspective made more sense to me than anything else I had learned or practised during my career, leading me to further study in the field, and I have been developing and refining my clinical approach ever since.
The first thing I ask a person to consider in this process is the concept of ascension. I invite one to notice the weeds they have become lost in. I suggest visualising how big everything seems when standing right next to it and how it becomes smaller as we float up and away. A good exercise is a meditation devoted to rising above the weeds and ascending to a place that allows for a bird’s-eye view of our lives. An individual is a whole person in the context of their environment, and the ascension needs to be high enough to see all of this and beyond. Only from this vantage point can we see the multitude of contributing factors to our current predicament—the endless possibilities for our symptoms and suffering. I tell people to imagine everything pouring down over us like a waterfall we have consciously, or not, chosen to stand under. We can only understand what rivers feed the waterfall when we are high enough to see beyond it. This is the reason for the ascension.
Once we have mapped the tributaries, we must approach the body more closely to understand what it is trying to convey. Sometimes, the signalling is eerily metaphorical. Something stuck or blocked in the body could be related to a fallen tree across a stream in the network of our waterways. In other words, something from our past could be influencing the physical blockage we are experiencing. This interpretation or gestalt is for the sufferer to identify, not the clinician. The mind-body practitioner’s job is to notice the language used and any emotion that might indicate we are close to what is echoing in a person’s body. This is the story, and reading it could be key to our understanding, acceptance and healing.
When our body’s journal is read, there is a sense of relief. A feeling of “finally” brings peace that floods our systems with energy, validating our experience. Because this is not a psychosomatic witch hunt, and the symptoms are not “all in your head.” The pain is real and not imagined, but the explanation becomes infinitely more useful when we view the cause from a different perspective. After we have opened our minds to an alternative personal narrative, the resonance allows our intuition to flow.
This is the final step in the triad. As there are multiple contributing tributaries to a person’s physical experience, so too are there numerous tweak points. By this, I mean things one can adjust to improve their quality of life, reducing the burden of now-explained symptoms. From the vantage point of ascension and the knowledge gleaned from reading the story of our bodies, we can intuit what needs adjusting. This could be related to personal practice, lifestyle, and life choices, or consulting therapists or clinicians, but whatever it is, it will feel the most right, and this is intuition: the most right thing for you at any given time. Knowing what this might be also takes a meditative approach, one of leaning into what glows the brightest. This luminosity is like a neon light in the cityscape of your personhood, guiding you to where you need to be. It will feel warm, fluid, peaceful, and open, with possibilities feeling limitless. It doesn’t feel constrictive, onerous, or hopeless, and there is no fear.
This process does allow for trial and error. Like anything, it will take time to master, but it will be worth it to claim the sense of personal power that is our birthright. Trusting ourselves is the first step. Believing that everything we need to know already exists within us is a divinely audacious reclamation of our intuition and potential. It is not the whole story but the start of a new way of approaching that which ails us. There is still a place for medical diagnosis and treatment, but one that confirms and enhances rather than confounds and frustrates. The more we figure out for ourselves, the less we need something that doesn’t exist. Ascension, story, and intuition will enable us to meet our clinicians in a collaborative place where the therapeutic relationship thrives and healing can happen. This occurs through a shared understanding of responsibility, accountability, and the magic of our human potential.
Keep thriving,
Melissa