Thoughts on the world, homeopathy, mindfulness and food...
A collection of blog posts - feel free to respond with your thoughts and comments - I love to have feedback - thank you!
Alcohol has always been a problem for me, way before I even realised. At the tender age of 8, my dear Gran gave me my first sip of sherry at Christmas & I was hooked! Growing up I used alcohol to fit in, to be part of the gang, you weren’t cool if you weren’t swigging from a bottle of white lightning or puffing on a joint. I always sought out other big drinkers, I wouldn’t trust people who didn’t drink, there must be something wrong with them! I met my (now) husband, Dan, in 2005, he too enjoyed a drink, we’d wile away the hours in the bars in Edinburgh drinking & drinking & drinking some more. I loved life back then; it was extremely hedonistic & I look back with fond memories even though way too much alcohol was consumed. Once I became a mother in 2010 my relationship with alcohol changed. I now had more responsibilities; I stopped going out on the lash & settled down into family life, but I still drank more than is healthy & still on a regular basis. Over the years I’d occasionally address the problem but always go back to regular drinking. I’d take a week off, a month off or even 9 months off when I was growing my babies, but still, I’d go back to it. I told myself that I deserved it, don’t we all deserve a treat at the end of a long day? Don’t us mums deserve a reward for all the hard work we put in to raising our young? This is the line we are fed, from the TV, adverts, social media…mummy needs gin, is it wine o clock yet? and various other alcohol related memes. Dan had often spoke about taking a year off the booze, I never thought that he actually would, I thought he must have been mad to even consider it. There’s no way that I could. How would I survive without my cheeky glass of rum whilst I cooked a meal, or a bottle of wine to relax on an evening, or without a beer in my hand on a sunny day? How would I cope with social situations without alcohol? Christmas? Birthdays? It was too much for me! January 2022, I decided that I needed to make some changes. I read ‘This Naked Mind’ & ‘The Alcohol Experiment’ by Annie Grace and I realised that the amount I drank was not sustainable. I began to recognise the harm that it was causing, not only to my physical health but to my mental health too. I’d read about how alcohol significantly disrupts your brain chemistry & how it destroys your cognitive functions, and about how it depresses the mind & dulls life. Once I’d learned these facts, I couldn’t unlearn them. I’d put off reading the alcohol experiment for months as I’d had a feeling that it would completely destroy my relationship with alcohol & I was right, it did! I now couldn’t drink without shame, without questioning myself as to why I was willingly pouring poison down my throat. I made the decision to take a couple of months off. Those 2 months evolved into an entire year! A couple of weeks into the first month I saw some noticeable differences, in the way I looked, my skin tone was better, my eyes were brighter, I didn’t feel as creaky in my joints. I started to feel fitter. I used to have a beer as a reward for going running, I figured that if I was well enough to run then I was ok to drink. Funny how the mind works. I slowly started to become faster, I’ve never been a ‘runner’ as such, more of a ‘plodder’ but once alcohol was out of my system, I started to feel stronger. I shaved 5 minutes off my 5K time & started regularly running 5K in around 26 minutes, after 6 years of sticking around the 30-32 min mark this was a huge improvement to my fitness levels. When I was out, the smell of wild garlic & the bluebells in the woods filled my nostrils, I saw the colours in the sky, the reflections in the water, I started to really notice these things & appreciate them. It was like I was looking at the world through an Instagram filter! My senses were alive! This was such a great feeling & I wanted more of it! If I felt the urge to drink, I would reach for a Becks blue instead, I started drinking Kombucha & to signify the start of the weekend I’d make myself a fancy drink in a goldfish bowl glass, packed with ice & fruits. I missed the warming sensation initially, but the ritual was just as important & definitely filled the gap. I imagined that life would be boring without alcohol, how wrong could I have been!? I’ve always loved the great outdoors, but now I started to really love it, I developed a deep yearning to be outside, up a mountain, in the woods or beside a waterfall. The previous year I’d started wild swimming, very tentatively at first. I loved the feeling that it gave me afterwards, the warm glow, the silly smile, the giddiness, a real natural high. 2022 was my year to fully experience the real high that wild swimming gives. There’s nothing better than feeling the sting of the cold water against your skin, feeling the power of the water, the spray from the fall on my face, the salmon pink skin after a winters dip. This was where I was supposed to be, as up close & personal with nature as you can get, trout leaping before my eyes, dippers dipping on the rocks & ducklings swimming alongside in the river. I was a part of the landscape & the feeling was incredible, way more pronounced than it was the previous year when I was drinking. The year 2022 was full of ‘new’ experiences. Those I’d had before were always alcohol fuelled, this time it was different, sometimes awkward at first but definitely different & always better. I’ve never regretted not drinking, in contrast to pretty much always regretting drinking (even if it was just for the dull headache in the morning) & that’s a pretty stark contrast! I felt like I could really connect with people in social situations but once they started dribbling, that was my cue to leave. Being amongst people whom I love & respect, I realised that I didn’t need alcohol to socialise with them, the buzz was already there, in fact, previously I was numbing that buzz. Highlights of my year were…. Climbing Scafell Pike with my bestie; we were incredibly lucky to have picked the most stunning May bank holiday weekend, with clear views from the summit & perfect weather conditions. We also found the most breathtakingly beautiful swim spots the following day. No alcohol needed! Wild swimming with my boys in the summer. We went to lots of local beauty spots & splashed about & ate picnics on the banks of the rivers & the rocks by the falls. I loved seeing the joy on their faces & the feeling of being connected with them & with nature. No alcohol needed! My little sister’s wedding, I was maid of honour which really was an honour, it was a lovely day & even better for not drinking. Earlier in the year I expected that I would indulge on the wedding day. I couldn’t imagine a wedding without booze, but the reality was that I was present throughout, I really felt the love, I soaked up every moment of the day & I remembered it all afterward. I was still able to raise a toast & join in, but now one of the main perks was driving home sober & waking up with a clear head the next day! Christmas – another event that I couldn’t imagine enjoying as much without alcohol, again, the opposite was true. Christmas is a time for family & connection, for fun & laughter. We enjoyed playing games together, baking & eating mince pies, hot chocolates by the fire. We indulged in alcohol free mulled punch, Christmas films & lovely winter walks in the country. None of it dulled by alcohol, no after dinner sleepiness, no Christmas eve anxiety… just pure happiness. Now 2 weeks into January 2023 & over a year off the booze & I have no desire to go back to it. Alcohol used to bring me comfort like a warm blanket, but over time it became suffocating & itchy like a wool jumper that I longed to peel off so that my skin could breathe in the refreshing cool air. I once read a quote from the wonderful Billy Connolly that really resonated with me: “I decided to give up drinking while it was still my idea”. I’ve always been a bit of a rebel & I see my sobriety as the ultimate act of rebellion, in a world that puts drinking on a pedestal. ‘The act of being alcohol free is so much more than not drinking. It’s an act of establishing true freedom. You don’t just become free from alcohol, you become free from the illusion that you needed it’ I am continually thankful that I have finally found true freedom. [I'm grateful to share this guest blog post from Laura Byrne]
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"The nerve is damaged, we've confimed it by a camera too, and there's nothing can be done."
A sentence like that could cause many people to give up but Casey wouldn't have it. Wouldn't believe it. We first met in November, when she told me since flu nearly 6 years ago, she'd had chronic sinusitis, a complete loss of smell and taste and massive build up of mucus all day everyday. It woke her on a night dripping onto the pillow. She'd had several surgeries to try and correct it, to no avail. I listened to the details of the symptoms, explored further, asked her questions about herself, who is Casey, how does she experience her place in the world, her interests, her likes, dislikes, emotions, dreams and lots more. I prescribed a remedy to be taken twice over the next two days and again in 2 weeks time. Excitedly I recieved an email before Christmas telling me that she had smelt a cheese toastie cooking and it was amazing. We spoke for a follow up in January when she told me that for the last week the constant mucus had slowed massively, taking her from approximately 27 tissues a day to around 3. In terms of her overall symptoms she rated that they were a 10/10 when we last met and now scored them at a 2/10. Despite having told she wouldn't ever smell or taste, she'd smelt 4 different things recently and tasted peas. The drip on a night had cleared and she hadn't been waking to blow her nose as often. There's still improvements to go, this is early days, but what a great start. I asked permission to share a short write up as I'm aware there's so many folk out there struggling having been told there's nothing can be done. Remember TEETH - tried everything else, try homeopathy. Or just try homeopathy. As you like. "My wish for the coming year: that we may see different opinions and perspectives not anymore as way to create distance but as bridges between our ways of understanding our lives and our universe." Martien Brands, Homeopathic Dr, The Netherlands I've been thinking a lot about unity and diversity. About our need to separate and divide, particularly well highlighted globally during our recent Corona times. "You did, I didn't; you're bad, I'm good." Blame casting, guilt tripping, often rendering families torn apart over what are turning out to be pretty irrelevant details. The need to identify as absolutely unique for so many of us perhaps casts a longer shadow and maybe creates even more distance between others. I would argue we may be at a time when we maybe need each other more than ever. Need our tribe. I'm incredibly grateful for mine. I'm aware as I write, as a cis-gendered white woman, that I've got privilege aplenty and my areas of diversity are small compared to many. It's not to say I've not experienced 'otherdom'. Hanging out in small mining towns in Australia quickly saw me recognise the sexist nature of many of these places. Even Perth, WA where I was shocked by it at times. It doesn't have to be small towns. My 'otherdom' for simply being a woman. We see it many places in many different lives. Reading Braiding Sweetgrass recently has allowed some beautiful pondering time. In particular reading Chapter 11, where Robin Wall Kimmerer discusses the Thanksgiving Address of the Haudenosaunee peoples in North America. One of the things that struck me was the repetition of 'Now are minds are as one' at the end of the verses, which are directed towards all areas of our natural world. Separate we may fight tooth and nail for 'our needs', which may often be 'our wants', together it's more about community; what is best for the whole. Support for each other, recognition of our beauty, our individuality but celebrating our oneness feels to have been lost in the mad rush for our individual uniqueness. 'All duality is illusion' wisely spoke my Belgian storyteller who I know I've quoted here before. How far do we have to travel into the separate illusion before we recognise our collective beauty. Without insult to 'other', with peace and with love. Our common humanity is a key element of Kirstin Neff's writings on Self Compassion, and I fear we're quick to forget it at times. Remembering our togetherness, our interconnectedness feels crucial. Of course we are all unique, different, special in our different ways, but we are likely more similar than at times we care to think. When I reflect on my nemesis neighbour, I'm sure wants her kids to be happy and well just as I do. She grows an amazing garden so presumably loves plants. Whilst she was muttering about ours in a mocking whilst walking past when we changed it "Oh yeah we don't like anything natural, get rid of all that' and the like; of course we do and we are excited about planting up the space we have - and being able to use the area for fires, celebrating things with friends, sitting out and appreciating the stars from there... maybe even a sleep out one day in there. We are each quick to defend what we think is right, even if we may not align with the other's views. Watching the last episode of How to Change Your Mind last night made me think further. Over the series Michael Pollan explores several well known, and one slightly less well known, psychedelic compounds. All had mind expanding qualities, even Peyote, the least hallucinogenic of them, which had the feeling of feeling more, diving more deeply into life. One of the clearest things for me coming through the series has been the interconnectedness that participants reported experiencing time and again. There's a time and a place for everything so whilst this is no criticism of current medical psychiatric drugs, merely an observation that often on taking them I've heard people report feeling flat and separate. There is some fascinating research ongoing into the potential of psychedlics in mental health support and is an area I'm intrigued by hearing more from as it develops. We don't need a mind altering drug to have an experience of interconnectedness of the world but I do wonder if we need to step away a little from the current narrative. That of more is better, nature is there for us to use and throw away and that we all need one of everything as our needs are so different to our other fellow folk. I often wonder about sharing more, and what if there was a street lawnmowever instead of one in every home. I wonder if we need to fall in love with nature, the natural world and those around us (human and non human) all over again. To get more into the here and now (which regular readers will know is one of my feelings that homeopathy can help us with). To see each other with love. Last words? Have a read of Braiding Sweetgrass - it took me a while to get into it but now I'm there, I'm eager for quiet times and opportunities to read it. Eager to get transported into a world where the natural world is honoured, thanked and appreciated. And all the more appreciative of the sky, the stars, the ground beneath my feet. My final wish? Let us meet the beauty in the other, and whilst appreciating our unique individualness, celebrate in our shared humanity. With love, Em I'm always talking to people about having a team in my work. I don't want to be a solo healthcare practitioner for people in general - if I'm working with them, I want to be part of their healthcare team. The team will differ whoever is building it and in my opinion should be individualised to suit the person, but it's my firm belief a team is very important. I don't want to dwell too long on that and have blogged on the idea before, but as I write, am reflecting that 12 hours ago I was dancing around our local village hall, foot stomping (more effective whilst I was wearing my boots, though I spent most of the evening barefoot), clapping and smiling. So much smiling, and those smiles were reflected around the room in pretty much every case - some with a concentrating vibe, but mostly it seemed like with joy. The joy of connection, of movement, of vibrant music perhaps. I can't speak for anyone else but yes to all of those from me. The big thing I want to say here is THANK YOU. I decide to hold the event, it's my name on the posters for getting tickets and I do a fair bit BUT every single time I am helped by so many. I am great at forgetting I need a team, maybe it's the single parent thing thinking there's just me (there's never been just me, in reality I've had so much love around me), or perhaps an occasional stubborn determined independent woman streak that's there for me... but that asking for help thing I'm not always as good at as I should be. I am utterly grateful for everyone playing their parts in making the events such a success. Whether it be people offering assistance that I know is there if I need to take them up on it, people coming early, staying late, washing up countless plates, forks, spoons, pans, everything. Seeing the panic in my eye and coming to help me in the kitchen. It can be help in all sorts of forms - my daughter and partner on the food planning team, my partner checking if I'm OK when I'm awake at 3am thinking over what I need to do... Phoenix Ceilidh Band played again for us - in my opinion they are the best ceilidh band in the world. Dynamic, vibrant, altogether fabulous. Every time. This year we had the brilliant Jen Armstrong singing during supper,.Jen sang some of her original songs and also some Christmas numbers. I'm always in awe of musical talent - and Jen has so much of it. Really grateful for her and all she brings to the world around her. A true force for good. The people who put up posters, talk about the event, talk about previous years and how much they enjoyed them, and those who cheerlead from the sidelines, it's all appreciated and makes a huge difference. I'm grateful for everyone who attends - I'm pretty determined I'd just pay for it and dance to Phoenix Ceilidh band myself if no one came, but the event is so much better for having everyone else there! The people offering large pans when I needed them, dropping them off, staying in for me to collect, or being on my stand-by list in case I need more. I'm worried about forgetting anyone and am so grateful for everyone who was involved. For our community coming together. It was like watching some kind of termite clearing as the band finished, people left and a team of people, entirely unasked, stacked chairs, wiped tables and cleaned up. One email I recieved this morning said how it really shows village life at its best, and I firmly agree. I love seeing the full age range of people smiling, enjoying, being. I was told of the baby in the sling clapping along to the music, possibly our youngest ceilidher this year. There we all were, together, connected by the beat. Or perhaps by the heat... it did get warm in there! Yesterday morning, when I knew my parents couldn't come to this one, my partner Steve told me that they can always come to the next one. 'There's not going to be a next one' I muttered at him, though also added, 'by tonight there will be'. This morning I've made enquries as to the hall and band's availability for the 23/12/23. The Saturday before Christmas. So if you've your next year diary and fancy coming along, pencil it in... I'll be sharing news of it on my newsletter and likely on Facebook in our village group and my pages nearer the time. If you want to sign up to my work newsletter, there's a signup form on the home page. If you were in any way a part of the event THANK YOU. In days when the news reports doom and gloom around the world, it could be that the evening was a tiny, insignificant thing. And yet I believe it was also a beautiful, energy raising, vibrant thing. What's more real? The life on our screens, or there with live music, real people. Perhaps all of it, but I know where I'm going for my joy top ups. THANK YOU ALL. I'd go so far to say, these days, that it angers me, hearing along the lines of "there's nothing else we can do, you've just got to get used to it." Definitely frustration. Whether that's with headaches being told "you're just a person who gets headaches, you'll have to get used to it", or being offered therapy to get used to coping the intense pain (what happened to getting rid of the pain?), or the media dismissing Goop Goddess Gwyneth for stating that a clean diet, infrared saunas and supplements were helping her post-covid, and saying that she should be using evidence based scientific methods - of which they were able to offer no suggestions. Whatever you think of Gwyneth and her lifestyle, at least offer something in replacement if you're dismissing the things someone feels are helping them. Anger aside, I'm just as grateful that someone often throws a question out there "Have you tried homeopathy?". And I'm grateful that this happened here and several people recommended me when the person asked for help finding a practitioner. Navigating our way through these times can be challenging, but if we can help ourselves feel more 'us' in the space, we can do it easier. More and more, I'm seeing reference to the emotional effects that may be lingering after experiencing Covid-19. Sadly though I'm not seeing many solutions offered, though I'm hopeful the question "have you tried homeopathy?" is being asked in more circles. If you know someone who's struggling post covid with emotional or physical issues, it could be worth asking them that question. Someone asking "Have you tried homeopathy?" made a huge difference here. Have a read: After having covid for the 2nd time my post covid symptoms really threw me. All of a sudden words that I never associated with myself felt normal - anxious, panicky, low, flat, demotivated, disconnected. I felt like I was a jigsaw and suddenly lots of pieces of myself were blacked out, invisible. I felt like I completely lost the 'me' of myself. This lasted months and then someone suddenly suggested homeopathy. I had never tried it before, had no idea what to expect. The 2 hour consultation with Em was therapeutic in itself - a reminder of who I am, who I have been. I started to take the remedy that she made for me a few days later. By the following week I started feeling different. Incrementally the colours started returning to the jigsaw. I can't describe the relief at feeling myself again. With best wishes for a healthy, happy day ahead, Em There’s something about the North East Skinny Dip.
Maybe it’s any early morning event, but arriving in the dark feels significant. Running into the sun rises on the autumn equinox, seeing the sky gradually lighten as we turn into the dark season. Hearing the chatter, for some their first time, nervous and apprehensive, others, seasoned skinny dippers anticipating what this year will be like. Will it compare to others? How will it compare to others? Then letting go of that and being gloriously in the moment. Letting go of what was, what will be and being here, right in the here and now. The cold will do that for you. Entering the North Sea at any time is liable to bring you right back into the here and now. Last year I needed it, craved the biting cold, the pain of the cold water on my skin. I didn’t dip here but plenty in the river and it was an urge I’d not felt before. I grew to recognise the life saving, life changing effects of cold water immersion. This year I’m coming from a different place, a far more present, far less painful place and this morning, it’s feeling like a place of curiosity. We were recognised on our way in by a chap who recalled our ‘lifeguard photo’, that was a fun, happy moment 3 years ago where we dashed up to a couple of coast guards and asked for our picture taken with them. There was something surreal about standing there with these burly men, fully clad in their dry suits, with rescue gear and us totally naked, vulnerable, free. It’s that freedom many seek here. The dropping away of the old, the being a certain way, instead just being. There’s a deep joy in that and in about an hour it’ll be palpable as people do their sea bound dash, giggling and shrieking. There is nothing really that divides us, nothing that really makes us fundamentally different from the other. One thing I love is the alchemy that accompanies this event. The difference between the walk there and the walk back is huge. There, eyes are blurry from the 5am (or earlier) alarm calls, smiles are less wide, bodies feel tired perhaps but warm. Back, smiles will be wider, stretching to and into the eyes, the warmth may not be physical but there’ll be a glow that is beyond mere warmth from clothes or a heat source. People will have raised their energy, it’ll feel good, buzzing, vibrant. The difference on the beach is a wonder to behold too. People, by and large, undress awkwardly, discreetly and after? Well after, my experience has been they stand around, chat and laugh and you’d not think anyone was dressed like one of the starring roles in The Emperor’s New Clothes. This year, it turns out, is different for me. The sheer amazing spectacle of the whole thing overwhelms me with emotion. Gratitude? Perhaps. Awe? Maybe. Appreciation for the goodness of humanity? I think so. And, to be fair, that’s before I get to the beach, before I’ve rounded the small hill and have a view of what’s in front of me. That’s just from the stewards and the blazing torches leading us on the path towards our destination. The view doesn’t disappoint once we get there. People scattered along the beach, a fire artist, couple of gongs, drums, a pop up waste reusing cafe, a coffee van. A check in desk with merchandise; we purchased two 10 year commemorative badges and I treated myself to a free glow in the dark wristband. So much more than that though, the sun was making its presence known, the red glow on the horizon reflecting in the sea, ever changing with the slight lull of the waves. The coast guards, gathered in groups, the torches ablaze adjacent to the numbered signs for people of change behind - a great system to be able to quicker locate your clothes on the return trip. The energy on the beach felt good, a calm, excited kind of feeling. An anticipation. And an awareness of the cold, what was to come. Whilst checking out the mirror installation, we stumbled into Jax Higginson. Jax who’s brainchild the North East Skinny Dip was, is an absolute inspiration. Without her, the event today wouldn’t be happening. Pretty much singlehandedly organising the first, and possibly even several after, Jax is still firmly involved, brilliantly passionate and I was pleased to have a moment to express my gratitude. Once again that morning, we were ‘the ones with the coastguards’ as our identifying description. Some, a small minority, are making the most of the photo opportunities already, stripped off at the water’s edge. Others stand around in pants or naked in their groups, chatting. These, I presume, are the experienced skinny dippers amongst us, naturists or just those who are immune to the 8° Northumberland morning. At least there isn’t a breeze, it’s still, probably one of the stillest times I’ve done this. We’ve got everything off and coats on with dry robes over them, ready for the countdown to begin. “Watch out for the flare” said the folk that checked us in before the car park. I’d kept watching out and nothing had made sense from that cryptic comment so far. But, patience little grasshopper. Your time will come. There wasn’t what I’d got used to as a warm up, but a samba band with “We will rock you” beaten out on the drums worked well enough to do some of that. It was a little after 7 when a flare was released and – ah – that was it. The signal. We peeled our way out of the remaining clothes and set off. Most times we’ve run to the sea, giggling with excitement. This time Steve and I walked, taking it all in. It’s really difficult to describe what the whole thing is like to someone who’s never done it before. It’s a crazy sense of normal when you’re out there. Of joy. Or at least for me. We’d been chatting about the whole thing on the way up. Steve came up with the description of how normal naked feels when you’re in a crowd like that as that bodies are like pebbles on a beach. I really liked that. Like pebbles on a beach, we’re all unique and different and fundamentally there’s more that unites us than there is that divides us. I don’t know if the sea is the necessary ingredient in the magic, or the time you’re out there just being, walking around. I don’t recall right now who recently said to me that friction, proximity and time were three keys to successful relationships. Perhaps the friction in the not knowing, in the nerves. You’re close to so many folk, and the longer you’re out there doing it perhaps the better it gets. Or maybe the sea is a part of the magic too. I certainly think it can be incredibly healing. So we walked. Others ran. I cried. Again. It was so incredible, so beautiful, so humbling and so inspiring all in one. A complex mix of emotions. Of gratitude for the other thousand plus people who had gathered, driving a variety of distances, to be there that day, doing what millions of others would think was insanity. And yet it felt so right. It has done every time. I was there the first year, with 3 friends. In total there were just 168 of us. And my bottom made it into The Guardian. There are plenty of other bottoms, not just mine in the picture! I love that picture so much that when a friend said they’d do a painting for me, you know what I asked for? I now have this incredible picture done in acrylics of the 2012 skinny dip beach scene. And the fame that my friend painted my bottom. So I’ve done 3 others before this time, the 2022 one. 2018 with my partner, who fair play to him, had only been dating me a matter of months and was up for the challenge. Incredibly nervous, somewhat quiet, but up for diving in and giving it a go. The next with a friend of ours in 2019, the three of us drove up together. Steve and I recalled how we argued most of the way back. Bless, her not the best return trip company. That said, it is great sharing this event with people and I love seeing the magic happen at it. We walked, waded, and breathed was the waves got higher. I was lucky enough to have chanced upon a local friend earlier in the morning, and saw him again in the sea so whilst we chatted, Steve went to swim and I appreciated the scenes around me. I love to swim, though it does take me a long old acclimatising time, and others go in much faster than me, but here, at this event, I’ve never swum. Who knows what next year will bring, but there is something for me about taking in the beauty all around me, absorbing the joy that I hear echoed in every part of my being. Just being. Fanny deep in the water is enough for me here. The sun was stunning on the water. People went into the sea, out of the sea, laughing, chatting. Taking photos, celebrating the moment. Meeting new people, chatting away. Somehow, subtly, changed. Not forever, though maybe, but for now, the smiles were more smiley, the eyes more alive, the laughter easier, the sense of wonder perhaps closer than before the day had started. Steve came back from his swim, glad that he’d swum, and I? I was glad that I hadn’t. It struck me again about perspective. He felt if he hadn’t he’d have missed out, and me? If I had I knew I’d have felt cold and wouldn’t have been as open to the joy around me, instead I’d have felt more of an urgency and a coldness I didn’t need today. Today was savouring all about the joy for me. The joy of being alive. Fully feeling it. The pain, the good, the flipping awesome. Mostly this morning for me, a joy of being. The joy of having come through last year, grateful to the people who were there for me, and feeling a deep sense of wonder for them, for humanity, and for the thousand plus incredible souls who gathered on a beach, on a Sunday morning for the equinox in September. You’d think 15 years in there might be no surprises. Perhaps you’ve seen much of what there is to see? And yet, doing this role everyday is different. Every case is different. And it doesn’t matter how many people who get chronic headaches, the chances are many of the homeopathic medicines you prescribe will be different. Because we are individuals, really it makes sense that we all do things differently. We all experience things differently. And yet our medicine of status quo says that we all get pretty much the same for the same named condition. Headache. Try paracetamol. Not enough? Try ibuprofen. Not working, here’s the next line of meds. Of course I simplify, but as a chronic headache and migraine sufferer in the past that was largely my experience, and it’s been reported to me plenty of times by clients. But what to do when those avenues aren’t working. Despite the medications headaches persist. Fortunately they often don’t do so to the intensity of a recent client I’ve seen, but frequently it’s an issue that many have. Or they wait for the headaches then take the medications. Sensible on the surface, but what if there was something else? For me homeopathy was that something else, albeit I have seen great results with other things such as probiotics in one case in particular, which massively reduced the frequency of migraines in one teenager. I write this blog with permission to share insights into one client’s recent experience. Life changing is perhaps a term that is banded around too frequently, but I would wager it wouldn’t be too far to apply it here. Joanne (not her real name) came to me after we’d met in a different (non homeopathy related) setting online. She was recommended to me by a mutual contact and got in touch to ask if I thought homeopathy may help her with her frequent, pretty much constant, headaches. I am always excited to see what I can do to help for any client. Feeling unwell, run down or emotionally struggling is not a barrel of laughs and if homeopathy, and I can help in some way, it’s a real privilege. Headaches however were what drew me to homeopathy, and for some reason I have a bit of a thing about them. I’m amazed at how many pills I popped, how many packs of tablets I bought, how much I suffered. And suffer I did, with migraines and sickness as well as copeable with paracetamol and keep going headaches. That said, my headaches were a breeze compared to what I heard about Joanne’s. Regularly the bad ones would last 3 weeks, frequently result in her having to take a week off work and stay in bed for much of that. She would have to lie incredibly still else the pain would be like thorns around her. When I first met her, she told me she always had a constant headache and that they were getting worse. She was on nortryptaline but didn’t seem to be making a difference. She went nowhere without painkillers and there was anxiety around them – the headaches were affecting so much, stopping her having normal family times. Her daughters might have to look after her if she was ill, and they couldn’t plan for things – there would be a ‘if we can get there’ feeling about things in the future. It’s incredible really revisting the notes from our first consultation, and seeing the differences that have resulted in a relatively short space of time. We first met at the end of April 2022 and as I write it’s early September 2022. Joanne’s migraines started when she was 18. When I met her she was 51. 33 years of them. So to have made the changes we have in four and a half months, I’m excited to see how much further we can go. We talked lots about life around the headaches, likes dislikes, mood, personality, work, family, hobbies, sleep, dreams and lots more; and of course about the headaches, when they began, what was happening around that time, what they felt like, what made them better or worse. The two hours which I allow for my initial consultation, went by fast, as they often do. I worked on the case, and to give an insight into the process, I thought I’d share my final computer repertorisation. Where it says Combined rubrics, that is two that are put together, that are relevant to the case, are confidential and am not sharing them here. Generally I’m not a huge fan of small rubrics (the symptom description) but in the case of confirming a remedy, I’m very interested to see if they correlate and confirm the remedy choice. Here they did. I prescribed Arnica. It’s probably our best known remedy, and circling back to what I said in the beginning, we are likely to give a different remedy for lots of people experiencing the same common dis-ease description. I have never prescribed Arnica for someone with headaches before. I have never given Arnica as a prescription for chronic health issues before. It’s been something I’ve suggested plenty of times – for bruising, for exhaustion, for jet lag, for tired mothers, for post surgery blends. But not ever before for headaches. When we train, we talk a lot about becoming the unprejudiced observer. We talk about this mostly in terms of sitting with clients, in consultation. It’s something we need to use with a look to remedies too. I could easily have passed over Arnica with a ‘it’s just for bruising’ thought. And that would have been a shame. We met next in June, and as often happens, Joanne said she’d not noticed a decrease in the headaches and had been feeling quite despondent that there weren’t improvements. I think now there are two types of nothing happened. There are the more common type, where the client returns and says nothing happened, you look at the notes from last time, talk more and realise that actually quite a lot has changed, and the second, less common type where nothing has happened. Fortunately Joanne was one of the first type. On discussing how things were and now were… The average headache duration had been decreased by a day. From 1.5 – 2 days to a day less now. Her nerve endings which previously felt raw and exposed, hadn’t had that anywhere near as much. She hadn’t had to take the nasal spray as frequently and the average pain levels which she would measure out of 10 were reduced quite a lot. The day we met it was a 5-5.5/10 and normally on the day after a bad headache (which she’d had the day before) she’d expect an 8. She also hadn’t had to go to bed as often as before, and had been able to function a bit more with the headaches. Nausea was no longer present. So there were definitely still severe headaches, but the duration of them had reduced, the severity was somewhat down too, and whilst she was still having to go to bed, she noted that before she’d never be able to get back up and have dinner with the family, meet them after school, she’d previously have been doing well to get to the bathroom and back to bed. What to do? To change remedy or continue or increase the potency of the Arnica? I went with an increased potency of Arnica repeated at 2 weekly intervals. We next met early September. Headache wise things were much more positive. She’d stopped thinking about it, she’d not had a day in bed recently. She reported that the frequency was probably about the same but the severity very different. These were ones that would disappear by taking ibuprofen or a couple of paracetamol. And on frequency, now instead of a constant headache, there might be an average of 2-3 headaches a week. One week she didn’t have one at all. Unheard of for quite some time. She’d had a time where she couldn’t go out without painkillers in her bag, now she told me she’d even been out without a bag let alone the painkillers in there. Her quality of life had changed massively. The girls’ language had changed from ‘if mum’s OK then we’ll meet you’ to ‘mum, I’m meeting ___ on Thursday’. There had been no sickness. She described it as a ‘massive improvement that I’d never have thought would have been possible’. The nortryptaline was still being taken so I can’t put it all down to homeopathy, but it was being taken whilst she was having 3 week long, send you to bed for a week headaches too, and constantly had a headache, so I’d like to think that there’s some influence from this alternative angle. Before she felt the headaches controlled her, now she was able to make plans. When did she last feel this good I asked. ‘No idea, I really don’t know.’ A long time ago. Like many sufferers of chronic conditions, she’d resigned herself to the fact that this was her life. She said ‘I never would have dreamt I’d be like I was this summer. I couldn’t see how it could happen. My life was controlled by headaches and just the fact I was able to book a holiday and enjoy every day of that holiday was so amazing.’ Of course we’re not done yet, we’re in the early days, but I’m hopeful it won’t be much longer before I’m telling Joanne that my door is always open should she need to return, and not seeing her for some time. I've been musing over this for a few days, and hopefully if you're reading it, it's perfectly timed for you. I was sat with a group of my daughter's friends, teaching them to crochet, when my mum texted to say the Queen had died. I could have gone longer without knowing, with us not watching the news it may have taken longer to filter through, although once I'd gone onto the world of social media (which I've still not yet left, my plan to leave in summer being extended to autumn due to being asked to remain a little longer for one organisation), my feed would have been flooded with images and thoughts. Queen Elizabeth II died on the 8th September, at her Scotish home in Balmoral. One time many years ago we were in the area, whilst on holiday in Scotland. I recall space, a beautiful region, but not much more. It was many years ago I suppose. I can only imagine the place was a tonic, with a busy schedule and living in the centre of London, to retreat to there would have been food for the soul. At least for mine anyway. The nation has come together, at a time of newspapers filled with doom over the winter, there are tributes and photos cherishing the long lived life of our monarch. There's also counter opinions, people feeling triggered and challenged by an outpouring of grief for one that others never knew. There's a lot to feel and a lot to heal. Allowing the feelings to be what they are is a great step towards healing them, and taking the time to sit with compassion, particularly self-compassion, is a wonderful way to learn more about ourselves and the world around us. If you're struggling, it may be good to ask "What's the kindest thing I can do for myself right now?" Often I ask myself. Last night I went to bed early not feeling great, and today woke around 3am, then 3.30, then 4am. I asked myself that question, which is currently one of my very favourites (there are a couple of other great ones I'm loving too, perhaps more about that on another blog), and the answer for me, was as it often can be, to breathe. So I did 4-7-8 breaths (breathe in for 4, hold for 7, breathe out for 8) for a while. When I woke again, around 4.30am, I knew it was time to get up. We can ask it for simple things, or more complex. It's a question I'm learning to ask myself (internally) in arguments - and has been of huge benefit to me. It calms me, I step out of the drama and it's hugely helpful not just for the easy times. It's a question that enables me to have some space. Sometimes you can't just stop, and now many will be experiencing wave after wave of emotions. It might not change anything out there, but if you can gain some space and clarity inside, it could shift much. So that's one thing that might help. Another is (of course!) homeopathic medicines. It's perhaps of interest to know that Queen Elizabeth II, as with many of the Royal Family who have used homeopathy since Queen Adalaide made public her interest in this 'new medicine in 1835. New medicine indeed - Hahnemann had first published an essay mentioning homeopathy in 1796, so a mere 39 years later it was being used in Royal circles. Prince Charles as was, King Charles III now, has been an active supporter of homeopathic medicines, using them on his farm with animals as well as himself. And whilst the history may be of intriguing, I always find it even more to see it in action, to observe or to experience a well matched homeopathic medicine for myself. The shift can be utterly remarkable. So I wanted to share a little about remedies that may help in times of grief, whether affected by the loss of the Queen, or by that of a well loved pet, family friend, loved one. All we have to do is match the symptoms experienced to the remedy needed. I would like to say first that in cases of long term grief, that visiting a homeopath may be worth considering. The shifts that I've seen from acute remedies has been significant, but that from seeing a bigger picture and giving a remedy based on that? Totally life changing at times. I'm happy to answer questions about which is more appropriate for you if that's helpful. Diving in... Aconite, our first remedy to mention (since I'm going alphabetically at least!) is a great medicine to think of in times of shock. There can be acute fear seen, and it may be that colds or illness comes on (often with a high fever) after shocks. There may be a fear of death observed in the patient who needs Aconite. Mostly complaints come on suddenly and it's often healthy, strong people who may experience a state that needs Aconite. Could be useful in early times when learning of a loss. Arnica, funnily enough, I would never have thought of mentioning in a blog on grief years ago. How times change. I've seen Arnica be so helpful for sleepless mothers, carers, jet lagged folk, and for women in labour. Arnica is often thought of as 'the bruising remedy' and yet its scope can be so much deeper. I've recently prescribed it in a case of a woman in her 40s who has had horrendous headaches since she was 18 and am seeing some great results (so much so, that's my next blog to come). If the grief is such that one is struggling to sleep and feeling battered, exhausted and worn out during the day, I'd think of Arnica and take it to help keep you going. Of course rest where needed, but this would be likely to help alongside. Ignatia - and I'm sure for anyone out there who knows and loves homeopathy would have been waiting for this one to show up. It's probably our best known remedy for grief, and has a well deserved reputation. That said, a quick search in my repertory (our book, or computer program of symptoms) shows 247 remedies, including Ignatia, listed under 'Grief'. It's good to know if Ignatia isn't hitting the spot, there may be another remedy listed here that may help, or visiting a homeopath could also be a great way forwards. We've a few homeopathic medicines to choose from. Where Ignatia may help you're likely to see crying, sighing, sleeplessness and wanting to stay by themselves. The old texts describe 'hysterical women' being helped with Ignatia. Think of that beside yourself with grief, can't do anything state and Ignatia may help in that picture. Natrum Mur or to be blunt about it, salt. This is particularly good in long held grief, that has often been suppressed and held in. The Nat Mur patient may want to be left by themselves, may be worse for consolation and may well dwell on past disagreeable events. It's generally not a remedy I'd think of in acute grief states, but where a new grief has triggered a chronic state, it may well be one to think of. They would often be alone, generally not seeking out, or feeling better from company. Phosphoric Acid, the last remedy I want to mention in this week blog, is one to think of where there is grief with great weakness. Grief and sadness may be accompanied by extreme tiredness and there may be indifference to life in general seen here too. The person needing this may stay inside the house, may not wish to speak to others, and may just want to be quiet and undisturbed. Of course, as mentioned, there are several hundred remedies that may be identified as being particularly helpful when grief is a part of the picture, these are just a few to think of in cases of acute grief. Remembering to take things steadily is important too. Barefoot walking teaches me that sometimes you can charge on ahead, even run carefree and happy, and other times you need to slow for the harder, stonier paths. I believe many of us have an expectation that we continue at the same pace through whatever, that stopping is showing a weakness. Instead I think it's being human, and so important for each other to know we all struggle at times, sometimes we all need to take it slowly and have a bit more nurturing, from others or for ourselves. With best wishes for whatever you need at this time, Em Whilst I'm here, I've a 2 evening Introduction to Homeopathy course coming up on the 22nd and 29th of September. Evening one is a session of inspiration and stories of homeopathy in action, accompanied by learning more about commonly used remedies. Evening two is more about practical details, as well as insights into where homeopathy evolved from, with more remedies covered. Find out more here: It was great to read this (shared with permission of course) update from a mum recently. She's really taken on board using homeopathy for her family and was straight on with getting a kit from Helios as soon as I suggested it, shares her awareness and remedies from it with friends, family and at times folk at work. She's really rather brilliant altogether and whilst I've helped, definitely can't take all the credit here. It's been great to see XXXX get stronger in general, not have the occasions that would land her in hospital, and really fabulous to see how well she dealt with this recently. So finally, after my waffle... more of the story from the brilliant mum: "Hey Em, just wanted to save a massive thanks for your steer on remedies for XXXX. I spoke to the doc on Monday after the development of the white pus - he diagnosed as bacterial tonsilitis and prescribed penicillin. However, he agreed to delay starting the antibiotics given she was doing well in herself. Come Tuesday the white pus was starting to disappear and temp had gone. Today there is no pus at all. Needless to say no need for antibiotics. It's incredible to have witnessed to her little body fight it off all by itself, without her being particularly unwell, with some support from remedies and some immune boosting additions (vit c, echinacea and elderberry syrup). Such a great result when you think we first came to see you after the same thing triggered convulsions and ended her up in hospital twice!! " In our times of antibiotic, antimicrobial resistance, it would be just great if there were something out there that could help us deal with infections without resorting to antibiotics every time. I wonder if we'll discover it anytime soon?!? Honestly, I watched Panorama years ago whilst doing a post-graduate homeopathy course with the wonderful Jeremy Sherr. On the program they explained the dangers that we are in with increasing antimicrobial resistance. So what to do, what to do? Well of course... it's obvious, we sat and thought (it was a residential course, I was sat with colleagues, not the royal 'we')... let's explore traditional and complementary medicine perhaps? Stop hitting our heads against a brick wall here? No, what we need is STRONGER antibiotics we were told by the narrator of the show. Now, I'm not saying I don't want to use antibiotics if I need them. I'm not saying I would ever recommend anyone doesn't. But what I don't want, what I really don't want... is not to have access to them due to us having over used them. These are live saving, miraculous medicines. But if we over-do it there's a chance they won't be. Sometimes there's another option, apart from doing more of the same. Sometimes there's an option that helps support our body to deal with things naturally. Sometimes there's an option that doesn't wipe out the 'good bacteria' in our gut along with the 'bad bacteria' that's causing the issues. I'll be doing an Introduction to Homeopathy course in the Autumn over two evenings, if you want to sign up for it drop me a message to em@emmacolley.co.uk and I'll add you to my newsletter list where I'll be talking about dates nearer the time. It'll be online, run via Zoom. I love this phrase used by a 5 year old client. I first saw him as a baby and he's grown up using homeopathy. If he's hurt he'll go get the box of remedies and get his mum to help him find the "crunchy ball for it". I've just realised too that this fab pair were recommended by the mum who wrote the message above. It's a lovely way to share the potential of homeopathy - telling friends and family about how you've used it to success, for minor ailments or more chronic complaints (usually with a practitioner for the more chronic stuff). There's so much out there that tries to suppress gentle, natural medicine (I'll kick the soap box away about how there's not big money for big organisations to be made before I start), that sharing our stories of great outcomes is so worthwhile. I'm not a lover of routine and would argue perhaps I need to trick myself into consistency. I felt OK with a 'bedtime pattern' for my daughter, but a 'bedtime routine'? That felt to suck the joy out of things for me, cage me, trap me and contain us in a way that I battled against. Quite probably says more about me, and for any homeopaths reading this, re-reading it is probably no shock that an 'animal' remedy is suiting me well. But rituals? Possibly the witchy feel to the title, possibly just quite how damn helpful they are, rituals I am on board with and I like. Not just like, feel convinced they are helping me improve many areas. Helping me find consistency. I'm currently taking part in Paul Mort's Unstoppable 28, 28 days, with 4 coaching calls, and daily rituals to do, well, daily. Simple, yet really effective. Sharing my The Compassion Sessions with a group of brilliant people (week 1 started yesterday), I've a couple of things we're doing for the week - I'll share those in a moment. For Paul's course, daily I'm writing one word that describes how I want to feel that day, a reason why, what I'll do to ensure I achieve it, one thing I'm excited about that day and who needs me to show up and be epic that day. I paraphrase slightly - he says unstoppable. He also swears a lot. I like him. Week 3, Unstoppable 28, we added in some extras - ensuring 2l of water was drunk before 12, some form of energising (cold shower, exercise, breathwork... or many others), hug (which could be a compliment, act of kindness to other as well as an actual hug) and meditate for 15 minutes a day. Ideally all of them before 12, to make sure they got done. All the way through, there's been the writing of 3 things that we were grateful for each day. Imagine at the end of 28 days, that's 84 things to be grateful for that month. Things that could easily have passed by unnoticed but have been marked down and we've made ourselves aware of them. Our brains are amazing, incredible things and I'm so grateful to have studied them - I'm still in absolute wonder of this phenomenal creation. That said, sometimes they're not our best friends, sometimes, and perhaps especially, when we need them to be. Our brains are hard wired with a bias towards the negative. Towards keeping us safe and out of danger. Dangers that may have happened in our ancestral past, or in our own past, but sometimes are no longer present. Our Pug X is a wee reactive dog and whilst we are having training sessions with her, in hindsight, we should have done so quite a bit earlier. We had some emergency intervention when things got really tough, but in general we've done our best with the awareness we have. Which perhaps may not have been enough. Still, after all, it's the second time in two days for me to mention it; the best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago, and the second best time is now... Our brains can respond a bit like a reactive dog, spotting danger everywhere that we need to be kept safe from, and with her we're doing training to hopefully get less reactive, and we're soon starting to add in some alternative behaviours - not just adapting and perhaps even coping much better with the challenges, but giving her something to do. Having an action to concentrate on. I do like the idea of a reactive dog and the analogy of that and our brains - we can be swept all over by our very persuasive thoughts and in reality this quote from Michael Neill in his TED talk Why We Aren't Awesomer rings true... Back to the idea of taking action. It's easy not to. I'm a master at it. If there was a Degree in saying I'd do something before recognising I'm delightfully inconsistent, I could have a First. But I am seriously loving the small changes that I'm seeing through creating some important rituals that serve me. From being calmer in arguments (a real bonus living with a teen and my partner) to looking forward to my daily meditations. From seeing my strength improve at the gym to reading regularly (2 pages a day minimum), having rituals is helping me stay on track. Habit formation takes differing amounts of time, dependent perhaps on who you ask, but realistically 21 days minimum of doing something, and possibly far more. Research I've read suggests it's over the 21 days by and large, but if we don't start we'll never find out. I'm loving the meditation app Balance and have been using it regularly since May of this year. Gratitude journalling I manage to fall in and out of doing, but it's been a good Paul Mort wake up and reminder to crack on with it. Imagine in 3 months, seeing 270 things to be grateful for (based on 3/day x 90 days). Simple rituals, but a reminder of care and nurture for ourselves, which it's easy to forget to do. My home-play for The Compassion Sessions week 1 is - Find a song which resonates and feels good and play it once a day for a week - Write something on a post it that you like about yourself daily for a week and stick it somewhere you can see it - Write a word that describes how you want to feel that day and a reason why I'd love to know if you have daily rituals and if so what works for you? Or if you'd like to do any of them listed above and how they work for you. Also, whilst I'm here, I really like the idea of asking ourselves "What's the kindest thing I can do for myself right now?" Mine is go for a matcha latte just now... See you! Em x |
AuthorI'm a Homeopath working in the Skipton (North Yorkshire) area. I am also able to offer food intolerance testing using Kinesiology and advice around diet and lifestyle. |
07734 861297
em@emmacolley.co.uk Em Colley Homeopath Practitioner of Classical Homeopathy BSc(Hons) Psychology and Neuroscience Laughter Yoga Leader Focussed Mindfulness Practitioner |