How I Ended up on a Journey of Self Healing

What is wrong with you.. exactly? That is the best way to describe the peculiar look I get from well-meaning acquaintances, family members and health practitioners when they find out I am still not well. It's now been a decade since I started experiencing a myriad of confusing and seemingly unrelated symptoms across several systems of the body. I have sought out answers from countless experts, researched a multitude of rare and terrifying conditions and joined eccentric health forums and communities. I still haven't found "the answer" to explain what's wrong with me or "the cure" to fix me.

After a long and arduous journey, I've begun to wonder if maybe the answers I've been searching for don't reside outside of myself. There may never be a pill, supplement, herb or injection that will fix me. My only hope for true everlasting healing may lie deep within me.

Searching for Answers in Medicine

I always respected and admired, even venerated, Western Medicine. As a pre-med student in college I spent 15 hour days locked up in the library studying biology, chemistry and physics. I spent the summer after my freshman year shadowing a kind and brilliant physician in a busy Urgent Care center of a local hospital. I was fascinated by the physiology of the human body and I knew that medicine could solve any mystery.

Naturally when I became unwell, I diligently sought out opinions from more than 12 different specialists, ranging from neurologists and neurosurgeons to rheumatologists and immunologists. Sadly, most doctors I encountered seemed vaguely annoyed at the complexity of my case, questioning how I could have symptoms coming from so many parts of the body. Or they seemed genuinely curious and puzzled, asking question after question but becoming visibly frustrated when I didn't fit nicely into one of their textbook diagnoses. Overtime I began to sense that if I detailed all of my symptoms it seemed to land me into a category of patient I didn't want to be in, so I would try to be selective based on my audience.

When seeing a neurologist I would start by describing my daily debilitating migraines, dizziness and nausea that worsened if I got on a Zoom call or looked at a computer screen for longer than 20 mins. I would tell the neurosurgeon that the only way I could ride in a car was to lay back against a fluffy pillow, to try and absorb the impact of seemingly benign bumps in the road. Even though I religiously planned all driving routes to be on freeways as much as possible, there were always the unavoidable bumps on side streets that would instantly set off a migraine. There must be some structural component to my misery?

I would leave my chronically painful, swollen lymph nodes in my groin for conversations with the immunologist, the debilitating joint pain in both my feet for the rheumatologist, and the shooting nerve pain down both my arms for the vascular surgeon. I was never sure who to talk to about the near-nightly bouts of insomnia I had, where it felt like my body was battling against itself. I felt like I was perpetually fighting off the flu - my heart would race, body temperature would skyrocket and I would have to get up and pee every 30mins. These episodes would last anywhere from a few hours to 24 hours, were happening multiple times a week and had gone on now for months.

Was this a result of some strange physiological process or had I simply descended into the brinks of insanity and become an anxious wreck, unable to handle the stressors of life?

This happened to be my least favorite symptom cluster to discuss with doctors, as it was always met with a baffled stare. Unfortunately I had to mention it because these episodes would be triggered anytime I would take any prescribed medication. It didn't seem like any doctor had ever come across such a bizarre reaction. It also posed a serious problem since the main solution Western Medicine had to offer was a pill. What was I supposed to do? More importantly, why was this happening? Was this a result of some strange physiological process or had I simply descended into the brinks of insanity and become an anxious wreck, unable to handle the stressors of life?

Once I had disclosed my shameful secret, I would invariably slip up and share about my "other symptoms" because of a futile but optimistic notion that perhaps this doctor was different. Perhaps if this doctor hears more of the complete picture they could help me. Only twice, and sadly much further down the road, did this happen. Occasionally I would be met with genuine compassion or the occasional insight, but most doctors would confidently state that my symptoms fell under the purview of another specialist, and send me on my way.

The alternative medicine space has been rife with frustration as well. I've seen just as many chiropractors, Chinese Medicine doctors, naturopaths, massage therapists, body workers and acupuncturists. While I've been fortunate to have found a few gems who have made living in my body tolerable, I've also encountered just as much arrogance, rigidity and confusion. Similar to my reaction to pharmaceuticals, my body had also stopped tolerating herbs or supplements. I found myself leaving sessions with kind and knowledgeable providers feeling completely overwhelmed by how broken my body had become. How was I supposed to heal if I couldn't take any of the solutions they too had to offer?

Going Nowhere Quickly

Finally last year I experienced a shift in the direction of my healing, just not necessarily where I was hoping to go. It came in the form of a physical therapist. It had been 5 months since my foot surgery and I had actually regressed. It had been months since I'd been able to stand for longer than a few minutes or walk more than a few hundred feet at a time. My heart longed for the simple pleasure of walking around a grocery store and picking out 4 perfect sized red and orange organic bell peppers. I was so tired of Instacart shoppers picking up 3 huge heads of cabbage instead of radicchio or finding wrinkly, deformed parsnips at the bottom of my bag. I had always prided myself on my dislike of grocery shopping as it always seemed like such an unnecessary hassle I would try to avoid each week. Now it represented freedom, health and wellness and I desperately wanted a taste.

I worked with this physical therapist for about 3 months hoping for a miracle. After continuing to not make any real progress, one day she led me into a back office and sat me down. I heard the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof and sensed it was going to be bad news. She kindly explained that the human body can't heal when it's in a state of prolonged stress. I'm sorry.. stress? Sure, I had left a relatively stressful job at one of the most competitive software companies in the world, but that was months ago. I had since spent my days sitting outside of our lovely country home, meditating and watching deer. My diet consisted of meat and plenty of veggies, I didn't smoke or drink and had given up caffeine years ago. Stress seemed like an unlikely, halfhearted explanation.

However, she reminded me about my shameful secret, that I still wasn't sleeping because of my frequent episodes of a racing heart, feverishly high body temperatures and an urgent need to pee. She put a label to this experience I was having, calling them "fight or flight" episodes, which I acknowledged were still happening constantly. Typically the human body experiences them in short, manageable intervals in response to acute stressors, such as the car in front of you slamming on its brakes. Following this sympathetic nervous system response, a normal healthy brain will activate the parasympathetic nervous system to regulate the body back to a calm state. Unfortunately in some cases the nervous system seems to get "stuck" and becomes unable to reset itself. This described exactly what was happening to me.

My body could only heal itself while in a parasympathetic state, and my brain seemed to have forgotten how to get us back there.

The human body isn't capable of true healing while stuck in a sympathetic state. I would never be successful at building strength when the nerves in both my arms were so aggravated I couldn't even complete the PT basics. Intuitively I had sensed this the whole time, but couldn't seem to accept it. After having a bad episode, I would limp around the next day on painfully swollen and inflamed feet that felt stiff and brittle, like they'd been left out too long in the desert sun. I could sense that my body wasn't able to heal.

As stubborn and painfully optimistic as I am, I continued to show up for weekly PT sessions diligently every week, typically crying in the car the whole way home. Finally after a few more months of making no progress, her words finally permeated my subconscious. My body could only heal itself while in a parasympathetic state, and my brain seemed to have forgotten how to get us back there. I had no idea how to get there, but I needed to find a way to heal my nervous system.

Embarking on a Journey of Self-Healing

Though I didn't know it at the time, that first troubling visit with my physical therapist started me on my journey of self-healing, though I was far from committed to the experience. I wish I could say I jumped in with two feet but I instead spent many more months trying over 20 drugs, supplements and herbs in a valiant attempt to control my nervous system. Nothing I tried worked. In fact, just the opposite. Anything I took would trigger an episode far worse than the one I was initially experiencing.

I ended up spending most of 2023 drowning in a dark abyss, desperately gasping for air with no concept of which way is up. At times I felt so physically weak and destroyed I was convinced I was dying. I repeatedly questioned how I would come out of this experience alive and sometimes wasn't sure if I wanted to. I remained hardheaded, angry and afraid, convinced that something outside of me could fix me. Despite getting the same response over and over again, I refused to surrender to reality.

This has been a journey I never would have taken, but don't seem to have a choice.

Finally with no clear solution to turn to, self-healing became the last house on the block. A world filled with vagal nerve stimulation devices, parasympathetic breathing videos, rigorous brain retraining exercises and spiritual books seemed to be the only option I had left. I am not someone who is now on the other side, having experienced a miraculous healing transformation. Each day I am doing my best to courageously live this journey, experimenting with various modalities, books and techniques.

My goal for this blog is to openly and honestly share about the experiences I've had to get to the point of surrender, and everything afterward. This has been a journey I never would have taken, but don't seem to have a choice. I hope by sharing my experience, others may be able to relate. Perhaps we can connect and find hope as we walk alongside each other through our hardships. We are all navigating different challenges in this life and need to know that we are not alone. May we all find peace in our hearts and freedom from our minds.