I like to think of myself as an all-natural kind of girl. Someone who’d rather tough it out than to break down and admit that I might need more help than I’m capable of prescribing for myself. 

But there have been times, these past few weeks included, where I’ve run headlong into the limits of what naturopathic medicine can do.

You don’t need all the details here, and they’re not really relevant. What’s important, though, is what I’ve learned.

I am not in this alone. There are other people who are here to help me. It is OK to take that help when I need it. 

I’m reminded of an essay that I had published in Chicken Soup for the Stay-at-Home-Mom’s Soul. I called it Angels of Their Own. It’s a reflection on the first few years of my children’s lives during which I came to the realization that I didn’t have to do everything and be everything to my children.

Now I’m learning that lesson again, this time with my own health.

One of the hardest things for me to admit as a naturopathic doctor is that my health isn’t perfect. (But whose is?)

The second hardest thing to wrap my head around is that naturopathic medicine can’t fix every health problem, every time. It’s a great start, though, and the place where I’ll always begin. Why risk side effects and interactions if you don’t have to? And why not get to the ROOT of the problem, so you really fix it for good?

But guess what? There’s a time and a place for conventional medicine. And I needed some of what it had to offer.

Ack! There, I said it.

And I’m still here. I haven’t been struck down by lightning. I haven’t dropped dead from a horrible adverse drug reaction. And I’m still dealing with the cause of the issue. I’m approaching it from all angles to help bring complete healing to my body. With no judgment.

So next time, instead of rushing to call myself a hypocrite, I’m going to pass on that label and opt for this little mantra:

I am open to receiving the help that I need, in whatever form it presents itself.