Classical Homeopathy

I have long been a fan of homeopathy. Whether Belladonna brought back chickens on the brink of death due to heat stroke or Apis took away the burn of a bee sting; whether Nux Vomica cured hiccups or Rhus tox cured poison ivy, we have need of the little pellets multiple times a week.

My extended family, though, took homeopathy to the next level. First my sister went to see a classical homeopath in Denver. After a two hour appointment, she took a dose of Pulsatilla. Before she drove away, the brain fog lifted. She had felt exhausted since she gave birth six months before, so to have energy and clarity, instantly, was a great blessing.

Her spouse went, and he was helped. My dad went, too, and though he has multiple health issues, my mom thinks he is improving.

In December, then, when my blog posts started to sound more down than usual, my dad suggested that, when I visited Colorado after California (Phil went home to care for the animals: the boys and I went from California to Colorado), that I go to the homeopath.

Besides a low "life force" (the homeopath way of saying "depressed," or low in vitality), I have been waking up with numb hands most mornings after I eat pork. Something else triggers numb hands, too. Since rheumatoid arthritis runs in the family, and numb hands can precede full-blown rheumatoid. And inflammation in the body is, as a general rule, something to avoid.

I had eaten soy lecithin in chocolate on Thursday. The morning I headed to see the homeopath, I woke up with both hands and forearms numb.

On Friday, I went for my appointment. I was interested to see that the conversation headed almost entirely away from physical symptoms (I mentioned inflammation early on, and it didn't come up again, for example).

Instead, Mary Ellen steered the conversation towards perfectionism. "That is eating you up."

I don't remember mentioning perfectionism, as I had sort of thought I was mostly cured. Ha.

We also talked about my need to delegate more tasks, and to have more margin. She said, "You're working past your limits," and I protested, "No, no. The amount I do in a day is probably more than most people, but I'm capable of handling it. Except for the fact that I reached a place of despair in December. Oh, right."

We had this identical interaction not once, but twice.

I mentioned how I pull myself out of despair. "I'm a one in the enneagram, and for ones, we're supposed to go into nature or write until we figure out what's the underlying issue. At this point, going into most parts of the land just depresses me, because I can see how much we have to accomplish, so I just write until I feel better."

To me, this seemed like a self-aware statement: see how well I handle my life? Not only do I know myself, but I know how to self-soothe in an appropriate way!

"Now I could be wrong," said Mary Ellen, "but I think the fact that you can't get out into nature, but have to be constantly going inside in order to cope, shows that you're suppressed."

It made me laugh. Okay, it's probably true.

She gave me a dose of a remedy I'd not heard of there in the office, and sent some more home with me to take as needed.

I felt nothing different in the office, though she said my color had come back.

I went to my sister's to pick up the boys, and she was shocked. During that 20 minute car ride home, I had, apparently, completely changed demeanor and voice. I was quiet and passive as I sat down for lunch, hardly able to form a complete sentence.

I remember that, but had I been alone, I wouldn't have known whether I was just hungry or tired or actually reacting.

And for hours I just wanted to fall asleep. But I only see my sister a few weeks a year, so we hung out, and after three or four hours, I felt normal again.

We had pizza for dinner that night, with good pork pepperoni. I had more chocolate. I expected to be numb in the morning.

It wasn't until I had been up for some time on Saturday morning that I realized I had had no numbness.

And the fact that I have energy and desire to blog makes me think that single dose did more than just clear up some blocked circulation. Since I don't write when I'm feeling too low, I think I'm doing better.

Great news.