Rebirth of Dr Sunshine

Transcript

Speaker 0:07

Hello, beautiful souls. It has been a while, hasn't it? And if I'm being honest with you, there were many times over the last weeks, months, when I sat down to record this episode, and honestly, I couldn't do it. And not because I didn't have something to say, because you know me, I have a lot to say, but because I didn't, I didn't have the words yet. Life has a funny way of doing that. One moment, you are moving along with your plans, your goals, your endless to-do lists, and the next moment, well, life reaches out, grabs the steering wheel, and says, "Nope, we are going this way now." And that's exactly what happened to me. Many of you know that I lost my mom. Even now, saying those words feel just strange. I think no matter how old we are, part of us quietly believes our parents will always be there. And then one day they aren't This year has been one of the hardest. It's only halfway done, but it's most heartbreaking and strangely transformative. Um, yeah, transformative chapters of my life, I can say. I wasn't just grieving my mom, I was grieving certainty. I was grieving old versions of myself, dreams, plans, expectations. I was learning how to live in a world that suddenly feels different. And while I spent years helping other people navigate healing, huh, I found myself having to become the patient, the student, the human being underneath the doctor title. And let me tell you something, that experience humbled me in ways I never expected Because suddenly all the things I teach every day, breathing, nervous system regulation, acupuncture, acupressure, meditation, movement, mindfulness, rest, self-compassion, Well, they were no longer things I recommended. They became things I desperately needed myself. I wasn't showing up as Dr. Sunshine. I was showing up simply as Sabine, a daughter, a wife, a mom, a woman trying to find her footing after the ground shifted beneath her. And let's be honest, as practitioners, we are not always the easiest patients. You know it, I know it. My acupuncture colleagues definitely know it. For years, I, I have sat across from patients saying things like, "Oh, you don't have to do this alone. Accept support. Receive care." And apparently the universe listened and said, "Excellent advice, Sabine. How about now it's your turn?" Because there is something incredibly humbling about being the person who usually helps everyone else and suddenly become the one who needs help After my mom passed away, I did what many people do, hiding or kept moving, kept working, kept functioning, kept trying to be strong. But underneath it all, my nervous system was screaming, and it was screaming loud. The dreams came, the tears came, the exhaustion came, the endless questions came. The kind of questions grief always likes to ask. Why? Why now? Could I have done more? Where do people go when they leave? What is consciousness? What is soul? Is there an afterlife? What is the purpose of suffering? What is the purpose of being here at all? Well, and unlike some people who distract themself, numb themself, or stay busy enough to never hear those questions, you know me, guys, I walked directly into them. I questioned everything. God, life, the universe, healing, purpose, identity, everything. And somewhere in that process, I realized something. I was no longer simply grieving my mom, I also was grieving an old version of myself, because you question yourself. And that realization changed something inside of me, and well, one day I finally did something I tell my patients to do every single day Ask for help. So I asked for help. And I actually have to laugh now because I realized something. Being the practitioner does not automatically make you good at being the patient. In fact, we might be really some of the worst patients on the freaking planet. We know too much, we analyze too much, we try to fix everything and including ourselves. We convince ourselves we are fine until one day, well, we are clearly not so fine. And then we finally surrender and let somebody help us. Well, that was me, the acupuncturist on the treatment table. Imagine that. The woman who spends her days putting needles into everyone else was suddenly lying there receiving acupuncture herself. Hmm. And honestly, I needed it. I needed somebody else's hands, somebody else's care, somebody else's guidance. I needed to stop being the provider for a moment and simply become a human being. And little by little, my nervous system, it began to soften. Not overnight, not magically, but gradually. Ha, and then, then there came yoga back into the picture. But here's the funny part. I teach movement. I teach mind-body medicine. I know exactly what to do, but grief doesn't care how many certifications you have hanging on the wall. There were days I couldn't get myself to do it alone. So I realized and I borrowed strength. I went to a class. I found Dandelion Yoga, very nice little yoga studio. I rolled out my mat- Oh, well. And there were tears on that mat because somatic release is real. Many tears. Some classes I cried through half of it. Some classes I left feeling lighter. Some classes I just simply survived. But little by little, my nervous system remembered safety again. Picture that. My body remembered how to breathe again, and my mind became quieter Well, and then because apparently the universe has a very interesting sense of humor or guidance, or I don't know how to name it, but during one of the harder seasons of my life, I happened to be taking clinical hypnosis as a part of my PhD program. Of all times, right? So there I was, grieving daughter by day, PhD student by night, and suddenly I was not just studying hypnosis, I was using it. I was doing my assignment on myself, learning self-hypnosis, exploring guided imagery, Learning how the mind processes emotions, memory, and healing, and whoa. Whoa, it really works. So I cannot wait to teach some of these tools in future episodes and of course, online and in person, because they become part of my own healing journey, so I wanna share it as usual. So the practitioner needed her own medicine. Yeah, that's real. The acupuncturist needed acupuncture. The yoga teacher needed yoga. The hypnosis student needed hypnosis. The healer needed healing. And perhaps that was one of the greatest gifts hidden inside of this pain Because what surprised me was not really the grief itself, because you lose a loved one, you grieve, and you need to, you need to go through it to heal. But what surprised me was who I became because of it. I became even more compassionate, more patient, more understanding, less interested in perfection, more interested in truth, less interested in having all the answers, having it all together. More interest in asking better question. And I sit differently with my patients now too. I listen differently. I understand differently. Not because I became an expert in grief, but because I became even more human. As I questioned everything, I began looking at every part of my life. So I realized something, some chapters, you know, they are meant to continue, others are meant to be honored and to be released. So, you know, Liventy, my Liventy Academy, it served a beautiful purpose. It taught me so much. It connected me with wonderful people, and it helped me grow. But, well, it no longer reflects where I am heading. And sometimes the most loving thing we can do is letting go of something good to make room for something even greater. And so another chapter closed, not in failure, not in sadness, but in gratitude. And from the closure came something unexpected, clarity Yeah. Clarity. And with that clarity, well, the rebirth of Dr. Sunshine. Not as a new person, well, but as a more complete version of the old one. The science, the spirituality, the clinic, the podcast, the PhD journey, the books, the laughter, the tears, the wisdom, the curiosity, the mission, all finally coming, well, together under one roof. With a new website, which is currently in the making, as, of drsunshineclark.com, and my clinical home, Rise Above Acupuncture and Wellness, which will be incorporated for the in-person treatment, bookings, and informations. Also, my books, my podcast, my courses. All of me, all of me and all together, all under one roof. I finally feel like everything is aligning. Not perfectly, but, hey, authentically. Authentic. Be your authentic self. And maybe that's what sometimes our entire journeys are about. Not becoming who I was before, who you were before, but becoming who is meant to become next. So if you are walking through darkness right now, uncertainty, or changes, ah, I don't have a shortcut for you. I wish I did. But I can tell you this: keep walking, and ask for help. Let people love you. Borrow strength when your own strength feels exhausted. Trust that healing is happening even when you cannot see it. And trust that the version of you waiting on the other side of this chapter, hey, it may be stronger, wiser, softer, and more beautiful than the one who entered it. I know, because I'm talking to you from the other side. The grief changed me. The PhD is changing me. The acupuncture changed me. The hypnosis changed me. The yoga changed me. But for everyone wondering, the German accent survived all of it. Some things are simply beyond the reach of modern medicine. Life changes us, there's no doubt. Sometimes gently, and sometimes all at once. The last months changed me in ways I never expected. But if there's one thing I know today, it is this. Even after profound loss, there is still beauty, there is still purpose, there is still laughter. There is still life waiting to be lived, and maybe that is what healing truly is. Not becoming who we once were, but learning to love who we have become. And thank you for welcoming me back. I have missed you dearly, And as your Dr. Sunshine, I'm here to remind you that even after the darkest night, the sun always rises again. Until next time, breathe deeply, live fully, and shine endlessly. Lots of love