For the German New Medicine, the psyche, the brain and the body are not separate. They are one. Shock trauma and conflict create an adaptation that can manifest as an illness.

Here is a transcript of a “Walk” exploring the conflict shock within me. 

WIYS: Walking Through the Shock of Conflict

Right now, I embody the very essence of conflict shock. It resonates deeply within me, intertwining with the psoriasis that has become a part of my life.

The beginning feels like a chaotic bang—a tumultuous introduction to existence. My birth was induced with Pitocin, a decision made solely to align my birth with my parents' wedding anniversary. In retrospect, I was likely born two, three, or even four days too early. I felt a primal resistance; I didn’t want to leave the womb yet. I was just a fetus and the force of being pushed out felt like a violation of my boundaries. I didn’t want this interruption. It felt like I was being treated as a mere object, a gift meant to commemorate a special day. 

Then, to add to the conflict, I was born a boy when my mother expected a girl. This discrepancy fueled a deep-seated anger and frustration within me. It seemed there was always something not quite right about me—something that didn’t meet the unspoken expectations. This conflict internalized within my psyche, my brain, and my body, manifesting as self-criticism. I often feel like I was born wrong, and that I must constantly strive to correct that perceived mistake.

The anger I harbor finds its way into my arms, a physical manifestation of the desire to push away everything that feels invasive. It’s a visceral sensation, concentrated in my arms, as if they are waiting for the right moment to engage but feeling hesitant, fearing that whatever is coming at me might be too overpowering. Sometimes, I wonder if this anger has taken form as a protective layer on my skin, an attempt to create boundaries where I feel they have been crossed. My skin, sensitive and reactive, seems to be trying to adapt and defend itself.

As I stand here, I feel a stiffness in my hands, a desire to push outward. It’s a natural impulse, yet it feels impossible—an inherent conflict. I can feel the tension stretching through my arms, a reminder of my need to keep certain things at bay.

What I truly long for is to be born naturally, to be welcomed and celebrated rather than induced into existence. It’s said that birth can be a recurring theme in our lives, much like waking up each morning—a form of rebirth. But I don’t want to relive that experience continuously. I wish I had been born into a world that embraced me fully, even if that didn’t happen. I want to celebrate my existence now.

In this moment, I feel the tension coiled tightly in my fists. I’ve reached a breaking point—enough of distractions, societal expectations, and the automatic responses that have shaped my life. Right now, I’m quiet, and it’s a strange sensation. My mind feels scrambled, unsure of where to focus or what to express, caught in a state of waiting.

And yet I notice the sunlight filtering through the leaves of a nearby tree. My heart feels calm, attentive, and patient. It seems to welcome me, whispering, “It’s okay.” There’s a sense of invitation to simply exist, a stark contrast to the conflicts in my thoughts. Is there a natural state for my mind? It feels like a gentle unwinding, where the knots and twists can finally relax.

This brings to mind the default mode network (DMN) in the brain, often misunderstood as a state of rest. In truth, it’s quite active. I yearn for my mind to find peace in the DMN, free from the weight of others’ opinions and my relationships. Just a space to breathe, where I don’t have to engage or overthink.

I recall how the German New Medicine explains the impact of trauma on brain function, which can then ripple through our organs. In this moment, I’m recognizing that it’s okay for my mind to unwind and find its peace. I feel a settling within me, as if everything is coming into alignment. It’s as though my brain is rediscovering its own rhythm.

I think about the cracks in our reality, how they allow light to seep through, revealing deeper truths. It’s a beautiful notion—like reality is unfolding before my eyes. 

Initially, I wanted to take a walk, but I’ve noticed a persistent resistance lurking in the background of my mind. There’s always that nagging feeling—“I need to work ….” or “I should …...” Even as I engage in these activities, a sense of reluctance lingers. It’s more than mere resistance; it’s an ongoing internal conflict.

Living life can sometimes feel like driving with the brakes slightly engaged, and discussing this sensation makes my skin itch under the weight of it all. It’s fascinating how these emotions manifest physically. But perhaps I can shift my perspective—embrace curiosity instead. I want to explore the possibilities that await me. Who will I meet? What experiences will unfold? There’s a world of opportunities before me,…….and I want it.