When Did We Stop Trusting Our Own Bodies?
Dee Mani is a holistic healing advocate and founder of My Way CBD, who transformed her life after overcoming an aggressive breast cancer diagnosis using natural remedies. She is an author, entrepreneur, and speaker dedicated to empowering others through the healing potential of cannabis and holistic wellness practices.
Have you ever stopped to think about how much authority you've handed over when it comes to your own health? We live in a world surrounded by medical advice, health experts, wearable technology and a constant stream of information telling us what we should eat, how much we should sleep and what could potentially go wrong with our bodies. Yet somewhere amongst all this information, I can't help wondering whether we've lost something incredibly valuable, and that's the ability to trust ourselves. When did we reach the point where somebody who has never met us knows nothing about our lifestyle, our emotional experiences or the circumstances we've lived through, yet can seemingly understand our bodies better than we do? And perhaps the more uncomfortable question is, when did we become so willing to accept that?
I'm not suggesting we should diagnose ourselves or that medical knowledge has no value, but why have we become so disconnected from our own experiences that we sometimes feel incapable of making decisions about our health without seeking somebody else's approval? We know when something doesn't feel right, when we're exhausted despite sleeping, when certain foods leave us uncomfortable or when the demands of everyday life are beginning to take their toll. Yet rather than listening, we often dismiss what we're feeling or wait until somebody else confirms that it's real. I think it's time we questioned why.
How did we become so disconnected?
Think about how we approach health from a young age. We're taught countless things throughout our education, yet very little about understanding our own bodies beyond the basic functions of our organs and systems. We can leave school knowing how to solve complicated mathematical equations but with little understanding of how stress affects our nervous system, how nutrition influences our health or why sleep is essential to our wellbeing. We're taught to recognise illness when something goes wrong, but how much time do we spend learning what it actually means to be healthy?
As we grow older, that disconnect becomes even more apparent. We develop habits that fit around our responsibilities rather than our biological needs, eating when we have time rather than when we're hungry, staying awake when we're exhausted and treating rest as something we've earned rather than something our bodies require. Feeling permanently tired becomes part of adulthood, digestive discomfort becomes something we tolerate, and living under constant stress is almost regarded as a sign of success. But just because something has become common doesn't mean it should be considered normal.
What’s fascinating is that we'll recognise the slightest change in our car's performance or instinctively notice when something isn't right with someone we love, yet we can spend years ignoring the warning signs within ourselves. Perhaps that's because we've become so accustomed to looking outside ourselves for answers that we've forgotten how to pay attention to what's happening within.
When information becomes authority
My early career was working within the pharmaceutical industry, training to be a pharmacist, which gave me a fascinating insight into how health information is communicated, how treatments are marketed and how strongly professional authority can influence the decisions people make. I don't believe we should automatically distrust somebody because of the industry they work in, but I do believe we need to recognise that healthcare operates within a much larger system where financial interests, established practices and institutional influences can shape the information we're given.
One of the biggest lessons I took from that experience is that expertise should encourage questions, not silence them. If something could affect our health, surely we have every right to understand why it's being recommended, what evidence supports it, what the potential risks are and whether other options exist? Yet how many people sit quietly through appointments, afraid to question what they're being told because they don't want to appear difficult or uninformed? When someone feels uncomfortable questioning a decision that affects their own body, can we really call that informed consent?
Being informed doesn't mean blindly following instructions, nor does it mean rejecting professional advice simply because it comes from an authority figure. It means having the confidence to ask questions, consider different perspectives and make decisions based on understanding rather than fear. After all, nobody has a greater personal stake in your health than you do.
Have we confused fear with prevention?
Something else I think deserves far more attention is the role fear plays in our relationship with health. We're constantly bombarded with warnings about diseases we might develop, symptoms we should worry about and risks lurking around every corner. Open a newspaper, scroll through social media or search for information about a minor symptom, and within minutes you could convince yourself something is seriously wrong. Of course, understanding genuine health risks is important, but I wonder whether we've reached a point where fear is being used more often than education to influence the decisions we make about our bodies.
There's a difference between encouraging people to take responsibility for their health and making them feel as though their bodies are constantly on the verge of failing them. Research into the nocebo effect has shown that negative expectations can actually influence the symptoms we experience, demonstrating just how closely our thoughts and physical responses are connected. So shouldn't we be questioning whether constantly exposing people to frightening health messages is really helping them, or whether it's creating unnecessary anxiety and encouraging them to distrust their own bodies?
Nowhere does this become more apparent than when somebody receives a serious diagnosis. Suddenly, their world can revolve around frightening statistics, medical terminology and worst-case scenarios, while the person behind the diagnosis can become almost secondary to the condition itself. But we're not simply a collection of symptoms or test results. We're human beings with individual histories, experiences and circumstances, and surely those things deserve just as much consideration when discussing our health.
My own experience changed everything
When I was diagnosed with grade 3 triple-negative breast cancer in 2017, I suddenly found myself facing decisions I never imagined I'd have to make. I was confronted with frightening statistics, medical terminology and recommendations that would have a profound impact on my life, yet what struck me most was how easily you can begin to feel that your body no longer belongs to you. I wanted to understand what was happening, explore my options and have a genuine say in the decisions being made about my health, rather than simply accepting that somebody else knew what was best for me.
I ultimately chose a different path, undergoing surgery but declining chemotherapy and radiotherapy, instead focusing on nutrition, lifestyle changes, emotional wellbeing and plant medicine. It wasn't a decision I made lightly, but it was my body, my life and a choice I needed to make for myself. Something I've questioned ever since is how confidently we speak about what would have happened if we'd made different decisions. I've heard countless people say, "I wouldn't be here today without chemotherapy," but how can anybody know that with absolute certainty? While research can provide valuable information about treatment outcomes, I believe we should also be questioning who funds that research, who conducts the studies and what financial interests may influence how the findings are presented. Much of the clinical evidence surrounding pharmaceutical treatments comes from industry-funded research, which makes transparency and independent scrutiny incredibly important.
After all, none of us can live two versions of our lives to discover exactly what would have happened had we chosen differently. For me, that raises a much bigger question about how we communicate medical information, how much certainty we attach to individual outcomes and whether people genuinely feel empowered to question the choices placed before them. I began questioning not only how we treat disease, but how much attention we give to the circumstances, habits and influences that may contribute to our overall wellbeing.
What that experience taught me was the importance of being an active participant in my own health rather than a passive observer. I don't believe we can control everything that happens to our bodies, nor should anyone feel responsible simply because they've become unwell, but I do believe we have far more opportunity to understand and influence our wellbeing than we're sometimes encouraged to recognise. For me, that begins with asking questions, trusting ourselves enough to seek answers and remembering that our voices deserve to be heard.
The wisdom we've forgotten
Long before we had smartwatches, health apps and sophisticated monitoring devices, people paid attention to how their bodies responded to everyday life. They noticed which foods agreed with them, how their energy changed throughout the day, how stress affected their sleep and when something simply didn't feel right. Of course, modern technology has given us access to incredible amounts of information, but I can't help wondering whether our growing dependence on it has made us less confident in our own observations.
Think about it. We now have devices telling us how well we've slept, whether we've recovered sufficiently and how stressed our bodies supposedly are. But have you ever woken up feeling perfectly refreshed, only to check your sleep tracker and discover you've apparently had a terrible night? Suddenly, you're questioning how you feel because a number on a screen is telling you something different. Isn't it extraordinary that we've reached a point where we sometimes trust a piece of technology more than our own experience?
There's actually a scientific term called interoception, which describes our ability to recognise internal bodily signals such as hunger, thirst, heartbeat and other physical sensations. It's a fascinating reminder that our bodies are constantly communicating with us, even when we're too distracted to notice. While those signals aren't always easy to interpret, perhaps instead of relying on external measurements for every aspect of our wellbeing, we should spend a little more time reconnecting with the body we live in every single day.
The body doesn't exist separately from the life we live
Another area that deserves far more attention is the connection between our emotional experiences and physical health. We often talk about the mind and body as though they're two separate things, yet anyone who's experienced prolonged stress, grief or anxiety knows just how physically exhausting those emotions can be. Our sleep suffers, our digestion changes, our muscles become tense and our energy disappears, sometimes long before we've even acknowledged how much pressure we're under. So why do we still find it so difficult to recognise that what's happening in our lives can have a profound influence on what's happening inside our bodies?
Think about somebody who wakes up every morning with a knot in their stomach at the thought of going to work, or someone whose health begins to deteriorate during a difficult relationship. We can become so focused on managing individual symptoms that we forget to ask what might be contributing to them in the first place. I'm not suggesting every illness has an emotional cause, but surely our environment, relationships and experiences deserve consideration when we're trying to understand our health.
I've spoken with so many people searching for the next supplement, diet or wellness trend while barely sleeping, constantly worrying and spending their days in environments that leave them emotionally exhausted. I understand why, because changing our circumstances can be far more uncomfortable than buying something that promises to make us feel better. But perhaps one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves isn't simply what we need to take to feel better, but what we might need to change about the way we're living.
Are we outsourcing our responsibility?
There's also another side that we need to be willing to confront, and that's how easily we can hand over responsibility for our health while overlooking the things we have the power to change ourselves. It's easy to criticise healthcare systems for focusing on managing illness rather than preventing it, but how often do we neglect the very foundations of our own wellbeing? We know that sleep is essential, that nutrition influences how our bodies function and that prolonged stress can take an enormous toll, yet we can spend years ignoring these things while searching for something that will make us feel better. Have we become so accustomed to looking for solutions outside ourselves that we've forgotten how much influence our everyday choices can have?
Of course, life isn't always straightforward. Financial pressures, demanding jobs, family responsibilities and circumstances beyond our control can make prioritising our health difficult. But we need to start asking ourselves more questions about how we're living rather than simply accepting how we're feeling. Are we giving our bodies the nourishment they need? Are we allowing ourselves sufficient rest? Are we surrounding ourselves with people and environments that support our wellbeing, or are we constantly pushing ourselves to the point of exhaustion? These aren't complicated questions, but the answers can sometimes be uncomfortable.
Perhaps this is where real health education should begin. Imagine if we taught children from an early age how their bodies function, how their daily habits influence their health and why understanding their emotional and physical needs is so important. Instead of growing up believing that health is something somebody else takes care of when things go wrong, they might become adults who feel confident, informed and actively involved in their own wellbeing. Because surely the goal should be to help people understand their bodies, not simply teach them what to do when those bodies become unwell.
Rebuilding trust in ourselves
So how do we begin rebuilding that connection with ourselves? I believe it starts with becoming more aware of our individual needs and recognising that while natural products, technology and professional guidance can support our wellbeing, understanding how our own bodies respond to everyday life is equally important. Perhaps it's noticing that our digestion changes during stressful periods, that we sleep better when we spend time outdoors or that certain relationships leave us feeling emotionally drained. These observations might seem insignificant, but they can reveal patterns that help us make more informed decisions about our health, rather than relying entirely on somebody else to tell us what we need.
I think we also need to become more comfortable questioning what we're told. That doesn't mean automatically dismissing information we disagree with, but rather being willing to ask where it comes from, who stands to benefit and whether we've been given the full picture. We've become so accustomed to treating certain opinions as unquestionable that independent thinking can sometimes be mistaken for ignorance or rebellion. Yet surely genuine understanding comes from exploring information, considering different perspectives and having the confidence to make decisions rather than simply following instructions.
I often wonder how differently we might approach health if we stopped viewing our bodies as problems waiting to happen and started recognising just how extraordinary they really are. Every moment, countless biological processes are taking place without any conscious effort on our part, maintaining balance, repairing tissues and adapting to the changing demands of our lives. Our bodies aren't infallible, and there will always be things beyond our control, but perhaps we should spend less time fearing everything that could go wrong and more time understanding what helps us function at our best.
We've never had greater access to health information, yet information alone doesn't make us empowered. That comes from learning how to question it, understanding our own experiences and recognising that we have a voice in decisions affecting our wellbeing. So perhaps the real question isn't simply when we stopped trusting our bodies, but why we became so comfortable allowing other people to tell us what we should think about them. Because nobody else has lived your experiences, felt what you've felt or walked through life in your body, and surely that counts for something.
Maybe it's time we stopped asking everyone else what our bodies are telling us and started learning how to listen for ourselves.
Read more from Dee Mani
Dee Mani, Natural Health Consultant, Best-Selling Author & Founder of My Way CBD
Dee Mani is a Natural Health Consultant, bestselling author and founder of the award-winning My Way CBD. With a professional background in pharmaceuticals and a personal journey that reshaped her approach to health following a breast cancer diagnosis in 2017, Dee is dedicated to educating and empowering others through nutrition, lifestyle and evidence-informed natural therapies.
