Dear Doctor, Can I Trust You?

A Reflection on Healing, Relationships, and True Well-Being

I have found few practitioners in my life whom I truly trust. My first family doctor, as a child and teen, looked sickly herself and prescribed me birth control without question or discussion of potential side effects. At sixteen, I already knew something was off. Later, in university, a psychiatrist prescribed me anti-anxiety medication after a ten-minute conversation—all I had wanted was a doctor’s note for a missed midterm exam! I never filled it out.Since, I have met some midwives, even medical doctors, and other professionals with true humanity, but also naturopaths and holistic practitioners who lacked relational skills.

I suppose the following is an exploration of what it takes for a 'healer' to earn my trust. Sometimes, we find ourselves in situations where we have few options and must work with someone we do not trust fully. Being clear on that reality—at least within ourselves—can be a powerful step in our own healing journey.

Healing arts are not just about knowledge. They are not just about credentials, tests, or prescriptions. Healing is about trust. It’s about the sacred relationship between a healer and the one seeking healing. And in a world where medicine has become increasingly impersonal, where hospitals feel like factories and practitioners are often bound by systems rather than guided by wisdom, trust is something I do not give away freely.

So, dear doctor, nurse, naturopath, herbalist, therapist, dentist, midwife…—can I trust you?

These questions are not only for those in conventional, allopathic medicine but for anyone who claims the role of healer. Many naturopaths and holistic practitioners are beginning to scarily resemble the very system they once sought to offer an alternative to. The industrialization of healing has seeped into dentistry, midwifery, herbalism, and even energy work. Titles alone mean nothing if they are not held by people who embody wisdom, integrity, and a willingness to question authority.

Let’s start with the basics:

• Do you believe diet plays a crucial role in health? If not, how can I trust you to heal my body when you overlook its most fundamental source of nourishment?

• Have you read the ingredients list? On the medications you prescribe, the foods you eat, the products you use? If you don’t know what’s inside, how can I trust that you understand their effects?

• Do you have children? If not, what are you doing to support the mothers and children of the world—not for profit? Parenthood is a transformation, a crucible. It changes how we see healing, life, and responsibility. If you have never cared for a child, do you honor, listen and support those who have?

• Do you have a committed partner? Not because you need one to be a good healer, but because commitment, patience, and devotion shape a person. Have you walked the path of love, compromise, and enduring connection?

• Have you experienced energy healing? Have you felt what it is to be touched not just by hands, but by intention, by breath, by vibration? If you have never explored beyond the physical, how can I trust you to heal all of me?

• Do you trust my intuition about my or my child’s health? Or do you dismiss me, assuming your knowledge outweighs my deep, embodied knowing? Do you believe in collaboration, in partnership, in listening?

• Can you talk to the trees? To God? To the rivers? Not in the way of words, but in presence. Do you acknowledge the intelligence of nature, the sacred language of creation, the unseen forces at work in healing?

• Can you keep plants alive? What is your relationship with life? If you cannot tend to the small, how can I trust you with something as vast and intricate as my body, my child, my spirit?

• What are you doing to help the planet and her creatures? Are you part of the problem, or the solution? Healing is not just about individuals; it’s about ecosystems, communities, the fabric of life itself.

• Can you sing? Play music? Dance? Show me your art. Healing is not just science. It is expression, rhythm, movement, creation. If you cannot access your own creativity, how will you help me unlock mine?

• Can you admit when you’re wrong? This might be the most important of all. If you are unwilling to re-evaluate, to change, to apologize, then how can I ever fully trust you?

• Have you witnessed a woman birth a child with any interruption? Have you seen what happens when she is left undisturbed, when she is fully in her power, when no one tells her what to do, how to push, how to breathe? Do you believe it’s possible for a woman’s body to birth in complete trust, without interference? If not, how can I trust you to understand the full potential of the human body—mine, my child’s, or anyone’s?

• Are you willing to think for yourself, stand by your values, and call out your governing body when it violates basic human rights principles? If your allegiance is to bureaucracy over truth, how can I trust you to act in my best interest when it matters most?

Healing is a relationship. It is not a transaction. It is not a one-way street. True healing—deep, lasting, transformational healing—requires trust, openness, and a willingness to see beyond the narrow definitions of science and medicine.

Too often, healing is reduced to a diagnosis and a prescription. A symptom and a treatment. But healing is not mechanical. It is relational. It is about the practitioner’s ability to hold space, to honor intuition, to see the full picture of a person’s life—not just their lab results.

This is why a healer’s personal integrity matters. Their relationships, their art, their connection to life—these are not distractions from their work. These are the foundation of it.

And yet, even as fields like psychosomatic medicine grow, acknowledging that thoughts, emotions, and trauma play a significant role in disease, many practitioners remain stuck in a reductionist, materialist view of the body. They resist what ancient healing traditions have long known—that true healing requires addressing not just the physical, but the emotional and energetic imprints of a person’s life.

Because a practitioner who dismisses intuition will struggle to work with the unseen.A practitioner who does not nourish themselves will struggle to nourish others.A practitioner who is unwilling to grow will struggle to guide others in their own growth.

A true healer must be a whole human, not just a technician of the body. Dr. Thomas Cowan, an anthroposophical doctor and author of Human Heart, Cosmic Heart, argues that to practice real medicine, one must understand not only biochemistry but also art, music, nature, and the cosmic forces that shape life itself. His mentor, Otto Wolff, emphasized this holistic approach, encouraging his students to study the constellations, learn multiple languages, and even take up skydiving—not just to acquire knowledge, but to experience life fully. To Otto, medicine was not just about treating symptoms but about understanding the dynamic interplay of life itself.

Michael Crichton, best known for his novels like Jurassic Park and The Andromeda Strain, was also a trained medical doctor. In his memoir Travels, he recounts his disillusionment with medical school at Harvard in the 1960s. He wrote a book based on his experience under a pseudonym, capturing the cold, mechanical nature of medical training. The book circulated widely, sparking discussion among students and faculty—many wondered how an author could know so much about Harvard Medical School. Later, when Crichton won an award for the book and had to accept it in person, he feared his identity would be discovered. But, as he realized, there was nothing to worry about—no one in the medical world was paying attention. The entire system was so focused on efficiency, status, and protocol that there was little space left for curiosity, introspection, or humanity. How much has changed since then?

Then there are those like Dr. Killian, an Ontario emergency nurse trained in South Africa, who dared to challenge the medical establishment. She spoke out about the number of people arriving in emergency rooms with serious side effects from the Covid jabs and, for her courage, lost her job and home. Even now, she continues to fight for those silenced, both patients and practitioners.

The Mark of a True Healer

A true healer is not just a practitioner of protocols, nor a mere technician of the body. A true healer is a whole human—one who understands that healing is not just about fixing symptoms but about fostering trust, connection, and deep respect for the human experience.

A true healer listens, not just to test results but to the unspoken stories behind a person’s pain. They recognize that healing is relational, that the quality of presence they bring to another human being is just as vital as any treatment they offer. They do not dismiss intuition, emotions, or the wisdom of the body. They do not see themselves as the sole authority, but as a guide, a partner, a witness to the unfolding of each individual’s unique path to well-being.

A true healer is not afraid to challenge the system when it goes against basic principles of care. They do not serve institutions or ideologies—they serve life. They serve truth. They serve the wholeness of the person before them.

If a doctor, midwife, naturopath, or herbalist cannot recognize me as an equal—if they cannot meet me as a human before meeting me as a patient—can I truly trust them to care for me?

Healing is not something done to another. It is something cultivated with another. It is a relationship—one of mutual respect, trust, and recognition of our shared humanity.