Opening my eyes, I looked down at the landscape of my body—there were approximately 16 needles poking out of various parts of my ankles, calves, belly, wrists, and scalp, but I felt nothing but complete and utter relaxation. It was my first experience with acupuncture and I’ll admit that it took a lot of mental fortitude to lie there, willingly, as my Chinese naturopath prepared to stab me with needles, swabbing the areas with a cool pad drenched in rubbing alcohol. Fast-forward to four months ago. I had just accepted an English teaching position in Thailand—Chiang Mai, specifically, which is a mecca for vegans, yogis, and the wellness obsessed. After I touched down and got settled, I used Facebook and joined a bunch of Chiang Mai community groups that would help orient me. In one, a women’s-only group, I noticed someone ask about a naturopathic doctor. My ears pricked up. Almost all answers directed the original poster to one Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) clinic on the east side of the Old City. After I explained my symptoms: abdominal bloating, flatulence, occasional constipation, she looked at me with a mix of humor and gravity. “You are not the first person to come in here with these symptoms. Not the second either. Probably the 400th.” She asked about my mental and emotional health. My quest to find help in Chiang Mai was only centered around the desire for a natural fix—one that wouldn’t deplete my gut flora and serve as a “quick fix.” After three sessions of the acupuncture, my kind doctor gave me a proprietary blend of 15 TCM herbs that were compressed into tiny capsules that tasted, frankly, like dirt. I was to take 10 after my morning meal and 10 after my evening meal. Family and friends seemed shocked when I told them about my experience and the herbs that I was taking. Twenty pills a day?! Most were sort of horrified. Some thought I’d been scammed.
