I used to be very adamantly against pharmaceuticals.  I remember after the birth of my first son – 19 years ago – they offered me Tylenol with codeine and I declined.   Then they wanted me to take a stool softener, and I declined that too.   I was kind of obnoxious about it too, now that I think about it.  I didn’t need that stuff.  I had my supplements and my herbs (and if essential oils were as big a thing back then as they are now, I’m sure I would have used those too). I had my ideals.  I had my self-righteous resolve.

Over the next several years, I would spend a lot of time studying, reading about, and learning about natural health and nutrition.  I took several courses, and I earned a handful of certificates.  I was passionate and motivated and… have I mentioned obnoxious yet?

And then I got gall stones… in a gall bladder that eventually got inflamed and infected.  Then I got gall stones lodged in my bile duct.  Then I got pancreatitis.  Then I needed surgery.  Next was kidney stones, followed by hydronephrosis and a stent.  A couple of years later, it was two rather painful shoulder surgeries in as many years, one involving detaching my bicep and reattaching it on a different spot on my bone, held in place with a permanent metal screw.

Suffice it to say, I made my peace with allopathic medicine.

Over that tricky six year period, there were narcotics, there were muscle relaxants, there were antibiotics, there were anti-emetics, there were sleep aids.  Last year I tried, and eventually rejected, a medication prescribed for suspected fibromyalgia.  It’s not that I’m proud to say I took all of that… but I’m not ashamed of it either.  I made informed decisions, I took what I needed, and I took it all responsibly. At the time of this writing, I’m taking a mood stabilizer (which is making a world of difference for me) and am in the process of carefully weaning myself off of a benzodiazepine, prescribed during an acute time of crisis when I began treatment for bipolar disorder.  I’m not ashamed of that either.

And the thing is, I never abandoned anything I learned when I studied natural health.  In fact, having bipolar and wanting to get well has necessitated my paying more attention to it than ever before.  I absolutely understand the importance of nutrition.  I know how inextricably our stress levels are tied to our health.  I’m exercising, six days a week.  I’m taking a careful supplement regimen, designed with the help of my doctor.  I’m meditating daily.  I’m not drinking any alcohol.  I’m using essential oils, for all kinds of things.   I’m working hard to develop better sleep patterns (even giving up watching TV in bed, one of my favorite things, in an effort to create healthier habits).  Self-care and natural health are wonderful things indeed.

But there’s a balance.

I don’t think I truly understood that balance until I went through my own health crises, and to an even greater extent until I was met with my former self, again and again, in the form of people whose version of “help” included chastising me for my choices.  There was the one who messaged me after my second shoulder surgery, not to offer up a “get well soon” but to lecture me about the dangers of prescription painkillers.   There was the one who, after I’d already had my gall bladder removed, told me why I should never have done it, and how I should have just healed it naturally instead.  There were the countless others, who no matter what the issue, were convinced that I just needed to take more supplements/get better sleep/eat more whole foods/take more walks in the sunshine.  I saw in real time the black and white thinking to which I myself had once subscribed.   I saw the danger of, and felt the sting of, polarity.  I saw how many people tried to shame me (and who continue to try to shame me) for not taking a solely natural approach.

I saw judgment – So. Much. Judgment. – from family members to friends to strangers alike.

That’s the natural health movement that leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth.  That’s the natural health movement that I no longer want to be a part of.

I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we just trusted one another to make informed decisions.  To learn not just about treating disease but about maintaining health.  To weigh the pros and cons of all our options.  To educate ourselves about natural remedies and pharmaceuticals both.  To learn about risks of side effects versus possible benefits.  To respect that my path to health is different from your path is different to your best friend’s neighbor’s path.  To completely remove shame from the equation. 

And if you ever have to have your bicep drilled back into your humerus, I hope that your recovery goes as smoothly as possible.  I hope that you’re given all your options to control the pain, and that you make the choice that best works for you…. whether it’s a steady regimen of Vicodin or a thrice-daily walking meditation session in a sunny meadow.

I promise not to judge you either way.