When I was in my early 20's I had an old hatchback Honda I named "Smokey Joe" because it leaked oil and would start smoking when I drove long distances. Smokey had pop up headlamps. One evening the right headlight didn't pop up like it was supposed to. I lifted the hood and noticed that the nut that kept the mechanism together was missing. My in-a-hurry self couldn't be bothered with screwing a new nut into place, so I took the wad of watermelon gum out of my mouth and stuck it on the hinge. For the next three years that wad of gum kept my headlamp in working condition. 

Sometimes a band-aid approach works... until it doesn't. The watermelon gum eventually crumbled. By then, the hinge had bent and the entire mechanism needed to be replaced. I spent $400 to replace a part that could have been salvaged for a fraction of the cost had I taken a couple extra minutes to install the nut.

Our medical model is not much different; it is designed to help us get rid of illness, but it also relies heavily on the band-aid approach. Doctors treat people once symptoms of ill health are present, they use a correct drug or procedure to eliminate symptoms, and ignore the underlying cause. This approach is a hasty solution that covers up the symptoms but does little or nothing to mitigate the underlying problem. 

Having been hit with a life-altering illness myself, I can appreciate this targeted approach. Alleviation of symptoms is important, as it can improve functioning and quality of life for patients. But it's not the only approach.

Most people take an Advil when they get a headache. Taking an Advil for an occasional headache is probably fine, but when the headaches become chronic, people still take the Advil because their focus remains locked into the idea of getting rid of a symptom. They never find out why they are getting headaches in the first place. They never learn what their body really needs to stay headache-free.

If we rely only on the "quick fix" approach then we lose a great opportunity; to look deeply within, learn about ourselves, transform, and heal. Illness of all kinds can become a major teacher to use as we move through life. 

Our bodies have an internal healing system that is always working. In other words, your body wants to heal. But people that are sick often feel as though there is nothing they can do to get better so they rely on doctors, friends, and family members to tell them what their body needs. They rarely look at their own internal experiences for these answers. When we are willing to explore the psycho-emotional aspects of illness, we can truly understand illness. 

People don't like to face their fears or dig into their emotional wounds. I get it; it's pretty unpleasant. But when we resist facing our fears and wounds, we resist healing. My naturopathic physician, Dr. Patrick Donovan says in his book Forty Years of Sacred Space (2013), "The story of our life reveals the story of our illness and the story of our illness reveals the story of our life." Exploring ourselves can offer insight into our illness and the direction needed for us to activate our internal healing system.

I have noticed a pattern of psychological complexes afflicting many of my patients with chronic illness. It usually involves a "not good enough" story and one or more traumatic events where they felt deeply betrayed. They tend to keep people at a distance, excessively plan and control their lives, and have loud Inner Critics. In illness, these complexes swell. For example, The Victim asserts "my body always betrays me!" and now we have a window into the psycho-emotional garbage, or trauma stories, that may be involved.

One patient of mine has an inflammatory bowel disease that results in frequent and painful trips to the bathroom, making it impossible for him to leave home some days. Through body focusing and exploration of his life, he discovered deep abandonment wounds from the past and a strong Inner Critic that screams "I'm not enough" and "others don't want to be around me." These stories keep him from seeking new or deepening existing relationships for fear of getting hurt. His illness limits him from leaving the house for social activity and protects him from having to endure the pain of the "I'm not enough" wound. Then the illness is to blame: "I don't have friends because of my disease." How convenient! The illness serves avoidance, avoidance serves the illness, and the cycle keeps going.

Illness can create an opportunity to look more deeply; to use illness to find health.

When I was going through the height of my illness, I would ask myself "what is this illness asking of me?" and I would write down the answer on a sheet of paper I kept posted on my refrigerator. Some examples are: "be disciplined with my diet and diligent with my responsibilities." "Ask for help. Don't do everything on your own." My illness challenged me to explore the desperate feelings of emptiness and alone-ness I had, and transform them into a sense of stillness and solitude that was peaceful and comforting.

My illness constantly reminded me to be kind to myself and patient with my internal healing system. It highlighted the ways I kept excessively high standards for myself and rigid expectations of others. It asked me to be flexible, adaptive, and open to the constantly changing reality of life. My illness has been a good teacher, providing wisdom I wouldn't have otherwise acquired had I never gotten sick.

We live in a culture where we are taught to "fight" illness, to "win the battle" and "never give up." But when pain is resisted, it resists back. When you push, it pushes harder. But when you change your relationship with illness to that of collaboration, participation, partnering, and cooperation, illness provides more teachings and more paths towards healing and recovery. 

Now I invite you to ask yourself some of the same transformative questions. Look into the ways illness keeps you from doing things you actually want to do. Notice the ways it displays an underlying trauma story. Explore the ways your illness has served you (positively and negatively). Make a list of the things illness is asking of you and how you can show up to meet it. And when you ask yourself what is hidden in your illness, be willing to hear the answers even if they are uncomfortable. They might scare you, but if you willingly lean into them you might be pleasantly surprised by your internal healing system and it's ability to transform not just your illness, but your life.