What my gut has been teaching me about healing, thought, and the decision to truly live
Over the past few months, I’ve been noticing something in myself that feels both deeply personal and surprisingly universal.
For more than twenty years, I’ve often lived with chronic gut discomfort.
Pain. Bloating. A tight, reactive abdomen that has often woken me in the night and left me feeling frustrated, depleted, and at times, trapped in my own body.
Like so many people with persistent symptoms, I’ve spent years trying to fix myself.
I’ve researched. Adjusted my diet. Tried supplements. Followed protocols. Searched for the missing piece that would finally make the discomfort disappear.
And while some of those things have absolutely helped, I’ve recently had an insight that feels far more profound than any intervention I’ve tried.
I’ve begun to see that sometimes, the constant effort to “fix” what’s wrong can become part of what keeps us feeling unwell.
That may sound surprising.
I’m not saying symptoms aren’t real. They absolutely are.
I’m not suggesting we ignore our bodies or avoid medical care.
What I’m pointing to is something more subtle – something I teach through the understanding of the principles behind life; what some refer to as The Inside-Out Understanding and the Three Principles as taught by Sydney Banks, the Scottish mystic who had a profound enlightenment experience.
I’ve begun to experience these principles in a much deeper and more personal way – that I’m living in the feeling of my thinking and not in the feeling of the situation or the circumstances.
That our thinking creates feelings that profoundly influence how our body responds.
And that living in a state of hypervigilance; constantly monitoring, analysing, and trying to control our symptoms can become deeply exhausting for the nervous system.
I’ve noticed this in myself.
When I’m stressed about family…
When work feels overwhelming…
When my mind becomes busy, fearful, and preoccupied with what’s wrong…
My body tightens.
My gut becomes more reactive.
But something remarkable happens when I soften.
When I stop scanning for symptoms.
When I stop obsessing over every sensation.
When I reconnect with the present moment.
When I make the conscious decision to live.
My symptoms diminish.
Not always instantly.
Not perfectly.
But noticeably.
And perhaps most importantly, I suffer less.
There is now a growing understanding in medicine of the gut-brain axis; the constant conversation between our mind, nervous system, and digestive system.
The body listens.
And when the nervous system receives the message that we are unsafe, unwell, or under threat, it responds accordingly.
I think many of us unknowingly send that message repeatedly when we become trapped in what I now call “fixing mode.”
Fixing mode can look responsible.
But often it feels like:
- Constantly researching symptoms
- Trying endless solutions
- Fearfully monitoring every bodily sensation
- Organising life around what might make things worse
- Believing relief can only come once symptoms disappear
And in doing so, we can unintentionally reinforce the feeling that something is terribly wrong.
Our nervous system stays on alert.
Our body remains braced.
Healing becomes harder.
What I’m beginning to understand is that healing may not only come from what we do…
…but from the inner state we live from.
A state of:
Less fear.
Less urgency.
Less resistance.
More trust.
More presence.
More life.
For me, the simple internal shift of deciding:
“I want to live.”
“I choose happiness.”
“I am safe enough right now.”
…has been one of the most powerful forms of medicine I’ve encountered.
My symptoms haven’t vanished completely.
But something in me has softened.
And that softness seems to create space for my body to soften too.
Perhaps that is part of healing.
Not battling ourselves.
Not living in fear of our symptoms.
But gently stepping out of the cycle of hypervigilance and remembering that the body is deeply responsive to the quality of mind we bring to our experience.
Sometimes the path forward is not more effort.
Sometimes it’s less.
Sometimes the greatest healing begins when we stop asking:
“How do I fix this?”
…and begin asking:
“What happens when I simply allow myself to live?”
Perhaps healing is not the endless pursuit of becoming symptom-free.
Perhaps healing is what begins to emerge when we stop living in fear of ourselves.
When the mind quietens…
when the nervous system softens…
when life is allowed back in.
As I continue walking this path, I find myself wondering:
What if the body was never betraying us…
but trying to guide us home all along?
Because healing may begin the moment we stop treating ourselves like a problem to solve. 🌿
