come from the intellect alone, the part that thinks it’s in control. They come from the other part that in the past became lodged and buried in the cell tissue.
Jean, a lovely dark-haired graphic designer, came for a consultation with me. She was forty-five years old and was concerned that her periods had changed over the years from a pattern of every twenty-eight days to every twenty-five to thirty-four days. She had no spotting in between and no other symptoms. This history sounded completely normal to me, but another doctor had told her that her cycle change might represent cancer. He had recommended a uterine biopsy. Because her cervical opening was too small to allow a biopsy instrument to enter, a D&C under general anesthesia was suggested. Jean decided to seek a second opinion. Her exam was normal, but she did in fact have a very small cervical opening and therefore could not have an office biopsy. Her ultrasound showed a normal uterine lining.
I told Jean that I thought she was a very unlikely candidate for uter ine cancer and that I wouldn’t recommend a D&C. If she was really worried and wanted one, I said, it could certainly be done to be sure she didn’t have cancer. To help her make her decision, I asked her what her childhood experience of illness had been, since a woman’s child hood experience tends to profoundly influence her beliefs around health and disease. Jean said, “I was an only child, and my mother was always sick. She constantly had bowel problems. I had to take care of her. As a result, I personally react to everything that happens in my body as though it’s a catastrophe—just as my mother did.”
Then I said, “If you decided to have a D&C and it turned out to be normal, would you be able to relax and stop obsessing over cancer?” She said that it wouldn’t make any difference. She’d still worry. We agreed then that she had to change her belief system about her body and its vulnerability, which had been so firmly influenced by her early years.
To do this, Jean needs to understand that her fear is not entirely accessible to her intellect. Much of it is in her body and her sub conscious mind. Telling Jean, or women with similar problems, to “just relax, you’re fine, it’s nothing” and that “it’s all in your head” is not helpful or scientifically accurate. While Jean’s belief is indeed in her mind, her mind is lo cated throughout her body and in every organ in it.
For Jean to stop obsessing about cancer (or anything else), she will have to go through the same process that every one of us must go through to heal. To explain this process to patients, I used the first three steps of the twelve-step program, which originated with Alcoholics Anonymous. Since these twelve steps are based on spiritual truths, I’ve found them applicable to nearly every aspect of life about which I or my patients are seeking guidance.
Step one is: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable.” Instead of the word alcohol, you can substitute anything that you currently are obsessing about or feel powerless over. In Jean’s case, she must admit that she is powerless to change her belief and obsession about cancer with her intellect alone. She must also admit that this belief is not healthy and that it is making parts of her life unmanageable. Her belief won’t go away if she beats herself up about it or tries to force herself to change it with her intellect alone. She must also understand that the obsessive thought is trying to keep her from feeling something she may not want to feel. (The intellect likes to think it’s in control at all times.) But you have to feel in order to heal.
The second step is: “We came to see that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” This power “greater than ourselves” is a part of our inner guidance and bodily wisdom. You can even think of it as your soul—the part of you that lives