Hey there healers š
Okayā¦ before you assume Iāve started pulling tarot cards in treatment sessions (although that would certainly be a fun add on š)ā stick with me.
This case study is mostly not about tarot.
Itās about language.
Recently, I saw a new patient who had been going through an incredibly painful separation involving betrayal from both her partner and her best friend. As we spoke through her intake, I asked her a question I often ask patients:
āWhat does it feel like in your body?ā
She hesitated and then asked me:
āDo you know tarot?ā
I laughed and said yes (I was probably wearing a floral shawl after all š )
She replied:
āI feel like the Ten of Swords and the Three of Swords.ā šš”ļø
For those unfamiliar, the Ten of Swords traditionally depicts someone collapsed on the ground with swords in their back, while the Three of Swords is the image of a heart pierced by three swords ā heartbreak, grief, betrayal.
Now, tarot is simply a personal interest of mine. Iām not suggesting we replace anatomy with oracle cards or start channelling ascended masters between rib releases (although I wouldn't mind a channel or two with A.T Still every now and again).
But what struck me so deeply was this:
She had just given me the most accurate description possible of her internal experience.
This told me so much more than anatomy, pain scales or intake forms ever could.
This is the power of metaphor.
And I think this is an incredibly important part of becoming a better clinician, and especially one who practices with an emotional anatomy lens: learning to listen to the language our patients naturally use to describe their bodies.
Some patients describe pain mechanically.
Others emotionally.
Others through imagery, sport, religion, music, memories, metaphors, or symbolism.
āIt feels like someone hit me with a hockey puck.ā
āIt feels frozen.ā
āIt feels like Iām carrying bricks.ā
āIt feels sharp and poisonous.ā
āIt feels like my chest is collapsing.ā
These descriptions aren't just descriptions.
They are real sensations that these humans, and their nervous systems, have some context for.
These metaphors often reveal how a patient is experiencing their physiology, nervous system, stress patterns, and internal world.
Interestingly, one of the primary areas I ended up treating on this patient was significant restriction through the inhaled third to sixth ribs on the left. The literal region surrounding the heart and anterior chest wall.š¤
Not magic.šŖ
Not mysticism.š®
Just observation.š§
The longer I practice, the more I believe our work requires us to listen beyond symptoms alone.
Almost none of your patient will speak to you in correct anatomical language.
They speak through stories.
Through metaphors.
Sometimes even in symbols.
Our job is not to force patients into our language.
It is to become more fluent in theirs.
And truthfully, I donāt believe patients arrive in our treatment rooms by accident.
Every person who walks through my door brings an opportunity for exchange ā sometimes they learn something from me, and sometimes I learn something from them. Sometimes both.
That's also changed my clinical confidence.
I don't need to be some future version of myself with perfect knowledge and endless certifications.
I fully trust that the person in front of me is here to recieve exactly the skills, awareness, curiosity, and presence I have today.
That my treatmenting them and them encourtering me is happening in this time and space for a reason.
So this month, Iāll leave you with this question:
What language are your patients using that you may be unintentionally overlooking because it doesnāt fit neatly into structural or clinical terminology?
šGeneviĆØve
PS. Please feel free to share your thoughts/comments below or bring it to the community. The community space is like a lab- a place where we can share these kinds of observations and get feedback on your real cases! And if you don't quite get how the community piece works just reply to this email I'm happy to help!
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