May 2026

The stomach treatment, known in Ayurvedic medicine as a Vamana, went--well, I should say that it did its job. I showed up at my Vaidya (Ayurvedic doctor) Asavari's door early in the morning, ready. She explained the protocol and we went downstairs to the bathroom. In her small arms, she carried a heavy copper cooking pot of tea. It was large: a few gallons worth. I drank two of these enormous pots of tea through countless eight-ounce glasses and putrid faces and eventually purged all the acid buildup in my system. Then, I rested for four hours after eating a little cooked rice. I felt clear, light, present, and a little awkward, when I left for home. It was like a hot weight had lifted from my system and I was recalibrating my genuity.

You know what the hardest thing was? Throwing up.

Every time I felt it come up, a part of me would hold it back. All the things I had energetically held, some for years, some for decades, some for days: the deep anxiety of feeling afraid to feel any more stress because I have been chronically stressed for so many years: the chronic stomach issues I've had since I was a baby, the sexual and physical and emotional abuses from toxic relationships as a teenager and adult; the financial strain as an adult; the fear of where my income will come for summer; the fear of being homeless again; the bitterness of thinking I have to work every weekend for the rest of my life without any time off without worrying about how to pay rent (and now a mortgage) and save money at the same time; how a lot of people do not understand; the guilt of wanting to take some time off; the five-thousand scenarios I run in my head on how to go forward safely; the failures; the bitterness from others saying it could be worse (of which I always know); the countless teaching position application packages sent; the wonder if I am truly aligned with my purpose; the distractions from writing; the failure of institutional systems; and how I've felt like a convenience to many but drained to myself.

All the years of feeling unsupported and anxious had caught up to me and showed their true colors in this purge. It wasn't a quick type of release. It was more like a peeling off of the cells like an anxious body not letting go of the tangible it saw as something secure.

And then it was gone. I threw up more and more, and the creative work in my body said, "You are okay now. Just listen." While Asavari cooked me rice upstairs, I sat on the small stool in the bathroom and cried.

I slept the best I had in years that night. My body said, the unknown is the next best step, and it's not "easy," but it's trustworthy. I woke up well-rested the next day but not hungry. My diet didn't change much after the treatment (which emphasized water, lentils, rice) because I have been on a low FODMAP, SIBO diet for some years. What my research and countless appointments for my digestive system the past decades taught me is that I am doing the best things for my body, even if others may think I should just be "okay" now that the treatment is over, or that it must be something I did to get treated that way or to have such terrible circumstances (and no, I don't take the victim mentality here; I have never wanted sympathy, only empathy), or to take this pill and you can drink the alcohol, eat the daily chocolate, or spicy foods: the things that the body rejected in the first place. Nope, not doing that. So many years of the child, the teenager, and the adult just wanting to feel good and safe and given time to feel supported and not "fixed." To sit with someone and feel okay with who I am, no matter how I felt.

I think the greatest gift we can give each other is love, and part of that is listening. I feel that many people, and many doctors (who are challenged in being given the time to listen to their patients in 15-minute appointment blocks), have been taught by Western medicine that "if your body and/or part of it doesn't fit the standard, then there's something 'wrong' with you, and we need to give you a pill." This system DOES NOT work.

What sustainable medicine teaches us is that systems work together, and, as much as the emotional is tied to the physical, sometimes the physical is already partially compromised and needs additional support, or its simply physical (in this lifetime). I have been through many therapy appointments these past few years to process the countless appointments in the compartmentalized system of "what to think" and "how it is" instead of "how can we look at this together?" (Those on HRT will have a lot to say about this!) So much of what I needed during these past few years of chronic pain was support instead of prescriptive dismissal. But, at the same time, healing is messy in a broken system, but keeping at it brings change. Why? Because people are listening more and slowing down more.

Let's keep listening to what matters.