My acupuncturist asked me to text her a picture of my tongue a couple of weeks ago. She’s always asking to look at my tongue. This time, it was because she was trying to hook me up with some Chinese herbs that are supposed to help with depression.
It’s been one hell of a year, and I conceded that a little help with my body chemistry would probably do me some good to getting my feet on the ground again. But, I didn’t really want to go on a pharma anti-depressant because they can be expensive when you don’t have insurance and then there are the ‘gaining weight’ / ‘weaning off’ things I don’t like. I’m already ‘damp’ (that’s acupuncturist for fat) I’ll try anything once (as some of you know perhaps a little too well) and the last time I went off Zoloft, I did not enjoy the ride back to reality. So, my acupuncturist did some research and recommended I try Yue Ju Wan, two in the morning, two in the evening.
I started taking the Chinese medicine with great anticipation of how other varieties have worked in the past, and a small dose of skepticism, because, well… Chinese medicine.
First, I started burping. Like all KINDS of burping. But it wasn’t just burping, it was Chinese herb burping. My burps tasted like pepper. Why do all Chinese herbs either taste like dirt or pepper? I don’t know. No amount of coffee or wine or water would calm them. They got worse when I went to the gym. The harder I worked out, the more I burped. Gross.
But then the burps stopped.
The gas didn’t stop, just the burps. All the gas got stuck. The pepper gas filled up every available inch of my stomach and upper intestines. I imagined this was what Violet from Willy Wonky felt like, except I was filled with pepper instead of blueberry juice. Even yoga pants barely covered the solid, hot roundness of my middle. It stayed that way for at least a couple of hours.
And then the gas started to move.
THANKFULLY, when the Chinese medicine pepper gas decided to all channel southward, I was alone. I was in the prayer room of my temple, mind you, but I had the room to myself. It was noisy. It went on for hours. Thankfully, it did not smell like pepper. I sure hope the Buddhas don’t care about farts, but I did a lot of apologizing anyway, in case.
Thankfully, the noise and pepper gas only lasted a few days, and a few weeks into it, I’m feeling more light-filled, grounded, and productive. So productive I’m writing again.