Search Results

The concept of Project/Purpose or Programmed Purpose suggests that a fetus or infant unconsciously adopts a specific purpose based on the experiences and emotions of their parents before conception, during pregnancy, at birth, or during the first year of life. This intriguing theory was developed by Marc Frechet, who also contributed to the theory of cellular biological memorized cycles. It is more than just a theory; it is considered a fundamental principle that has universal applications. This principle can be summarized as follows: for every entity, there exists an immaterial phase preceding its material phase. During this immaterial phase, a program or plan is formulated, which then manifests as a purpose in its material phase. In other words, everything has a creator, and the program created during the immaterial phase dictates the purpose of the object or subject in its material phase. An example commonly used to illustrate this concept is that of a light bulb. Before its existence, the light bulb only existed as a concept in the minds of its creators, such as Thomas Edison, who envisioned an object that could emit light using electricity. This vision represented the program or plan for the light bulb. Through diligent work, the first light bulb was created and transitioned into its material phase, fulfilling its purpose by emitting light using electricity. This universal principle extends to all entities, including illnesses and individuals. Every illness is believed to have a purpose corresponding to the program created for it, and every individual is thought to have a purpose corresponding to the program established by their biological parents. According to this concept, every human is intended to serve a purpose, and this purpose is established by a program created before the baby is born. The environment before conception, during pregnancy, at birth, and in the first year of life is considered to contribute to setting this purpose, often unconsciously binding the newborn to it. It is suggested that some of these purposes may lead to fulfilling experiences, while others may result in adversity. This belief is based on the idea that during the period of the Project//Purpose or Programmed Purpose, the psychological conflicts of the parents become the biological conflicts of the baby. While objects typically have straightforward purposes, individuals are viewed as having multifaceted purposes that may predispose them to specific illnesses, occupations, life patterns, and various aspects of their lives. In summary, the concept of Project//Purpose or Programmed Purpose suggests that the psychological conflicts of the parents become the biological conflicts of their child, as their dreams and behaviours are intertwined across generations." #biodecoding   #holistichealth   #wellness   #mindbodyconnection   #decodeyourbody   #recallhealing   #totalbiology   #biohacking   #functionalmedicine   #holistichealth   #integrativemedicine   #wellnessjourney   #biodecodingtherapy   #biodecodingwithamk This reflection is part of my work in biodecoding — a way of listening to the emotional language of the body, beyond diagnosis and quick fixes.

We operate on two levels: the conscious and the subconscious. While we're often oblivious to it, our subconscious mind is constantly at work, shaping our experiences. By illuminating the hidden corners of our psyche, Bio Decoding empowers individuals to unlock profound transformation. When concealed emotions hold sway, we may find ourselves: Acting impulsively: Driven by subconscious reactions Exhausted: Drained by unseen emotional burdens Unfulfilled: Experiencing a diminished zest for life Sleep-deprived: Disturbed by subconscious turmoil Trapped in cycles: Repeating life patterns rooted in hidden emotions Understanding this hidden influence is crucial for personal growth and well-being. #biodecoding   #holistichealth   #wellness   #mindbodyconnection   #decodeyourbody   #recallhealing   #totalbiology   #biohacking   #functionalmedicine   #holistichealth   #integrativemedicine   #wellnessjourney   #biodecodingtherapy   #biodecodingwithamk This article is part of my work in biodecoding and mind–body awareness, supporting people in understanding the emotional language of physical symptoms.

We all carry hidden emotional wounds, like unseen scars. These are our emotional blind spots. They're areas of our lives where we struggle to see clearly, often causing confusion, stress, or unexplained reactions. It's as if we're wearing foggy glasses, blurring our perspective on certain situations or people. These blind spots often stem from past experiences, conflicts, or traumas that our minds have walled off for protection. They can be deeply rooted and difficult to uncover on our own. This is where techniques like Biodecoding can be invaluable. Biodecoding is a method that explores the connection between our physical symptoms and unresolved emotional issues. By examining these connections, we can identify the root causes of our emotional blind spots. It’s like shining a light on hidden corners of our minds. Once these hidden wounds are brought to light, the healing process begins. Accepting these emotions, rather than suppressing them, is a crucial step. It's like acknowledging the scar, understanding its history, and allowing it to gradually fade over time. By letting go of the emotional charge associated with these blind spots, we can experience a profound sense of relief and freedom. In essence, emotional blind spots are hidden barriers to our well-being. Biodecoding can help us uncover these hidden areas, and by accepting and releasing the associated emotions, we can embark on a journey towards greater emotional healing and balance. Would you like to explore a specific emotional blind spot or learn more about Biodecoding? #biodecoding   #holistichealth   #wellness   #mindbodyconnection   #decodeyourbody   #recallhealing   #totalbiology   #biohacking   #functionalmedicine   #holistichealth   #integrativemedicine   #wellnessjourney   #biodecodingtherapy   #biodecodingwithamk This article is part of my work in biodecoding and mind–body awareness, supporting people in understanding the emotional language of physical symptoms.

Introduction: before you can say ‘good morning’ If you feel tired before you can even utter your first ‘good morning’, it's not necessarily because you didn't get enough sleep. Your brain may have already been through three wars, seven crises and a minor melodrama before you even opened your left eye. It stands by your bed like an old warehouse worker and reports: ‘So, Boss , we have 12 notifications, 6 possible breakfasts, three moods for today and one person who has already annoyed you – even though they haven't done anything yet. What shall we do?’ Welcome to an era where people don't run from tigers, but from red messenger apps. They don't hunt for meat, but for a charger. They don't make decisions about surviving the winter, but about which plant-based milk – almond, oat, rice, coconut, ‘barista edition’ – will least offend their digestive system and bank account. And yet we are more exhausted than our ancestors after a day of ploughing the fields. This text is about just that: about fatigue that does not come from doing too much, but from thinking too much. About life that increasingly resembles a quantum experiment. About a brain that behaves like Schrödinger's cat – a little alive, a little dead, a little ‘I'll do it in a minute’, a little ‘I still have to think about it’. And about how to stop living in a permanent superposition before quantum physicists start to get genuinely worried about us. Before we go any further, it's worth taking a moment to pause and see if this is actually about you. 🟦 BOX: Quick check-in to start Ask yourself three questions: • Do I wake up more often tired than rested? • Do I feel like I'm ‘always thinking about something’ even when I'm not doing anything? • In the evening, is it difficult for me to say what I've actually ‘accomplished’ today? If you answered ‘yes’ to at least two of these questions, there is nothing ‘wrong’ with you. Your brain is simply working in superposition mode. Firstly: you at 8 a.m., or Schrödinger's cat in human form Imagine a box. Inside is a cat. No one knows whether it is alive or dead. Until someone looks inside, the cat is both alive and dead. Physicists call this superposition. I call it Monday. This is what your morning looks like. You haven't even turned off the alarm clock yet, and your brain is already calculating scenarios: get up now or in five minutes? Snooze or heroic ‘okay, I'm getting up’? Coffee right away or bathroom first? Take the ‘no talking before coffee’ mug or the pretty one you're always afraid of breaking? Porridge, eggs, a sandwich, or maybe nothing because ‘I'm not in the mood for breakfast’? Reply to that strange message from yesterday, or pretend you haven't seen it yet? Leggings, tracksuit bottoms pretending to be leggings, or ‘I'm going out, so I can look like a human being’? Until you choose, you exist in ten versions of yourself at once. The one who got up right away. The one who pretends the alarm clock doesn't exist. The one who makes porridge. The one who rolls her eyes at the thought of porridge. The one who mentally gives up on today before it has even begun. This is life superposition. And it comes at a cost. Before you get to your first coffee, half of your battery is already drained, not by action, but by analysis. The most biologically expensive state is not ‘doing too much’. The most biologically expensive state is ‘I don't know yet’. Energy is not spent on movement. Energy is spent on being in limbo. And the body – as it is – does not remain indifferent to this. 🟨 BOX: How does this look in the body? – morning superposition mode • you wake up already ‘in the red’, as if you had run a marathon the day before (even though you ran through your Insta feed at most) • you feel tension in your neck, jaw or stomach even before breakfast • you catch yourself sitting with your coffee, staring at one point, thinking about five things at once • the simplest choices (‘what to wear?’, ‘what to eat?’) can tire you out more than two hours of work Secondly: the brain used to have it easier (and this is not ‘back in the day’) This is not going to be a nostalgic song in the style of ‘people used to have it easier, and now young people...’. This is going to be about biology. About the fact that our brain is a structure that is thousands of years old, and we are making it run a modern operating system with a million notifications. Our great-grandparents made rare, specific, life-changing decisions. Such as: repair the roof today or tomorrow? Go out to the field before the rain or wait it out? Where to hide the cattle if a storm is coming? Which tree is ripe and which one can wait? These decisions made sense, were important, had consequences and followed a very clear biological logic: ‘if you don't do this, you will be cold, hungry or wet’. The brain was perfectly designed for this: a few hundred, at most a few thousand decisions a day, each of them related to real survival. Today? Today, according to various estimates, the average person makes between twenty and thirty thousand decisions a day. Every day. Not because we live more deeply, more wisely or more reflectively. It's because every stimulus, even the most innocent, generates a choice. 🟦 BOX: Your great-grandmother's everyday life vs your everyday life Great-grandmother: – ‘Will I manage to collect the laundry before the rain?’ – ‘Will this roof survive the winter?’ – ‘Did the children come home before dark?’ You: – ‘Should I mute my notifications or “be available”?’ – ‘Should I watch one more video or really go to sleep?’ – ‘Should I order food or feel guilty that I didn't cook?’ Third: micro-decisions, macro fatigue Take another look at your morning. Alarm clock: get up or snooze? Reach for your phone or pretend you're the type who ‘doesn't start the day with a screen’? Open Instagram or your email inbox? Black coffee, with milk, with foam, without? Which milk? Plus toast, porridge, smoothie, ‘nothing, because I'm not hungry’? Then clothes: something comfortable or something ‘presentable’? Hair: bun, ponytail, loose, ‘not today, a hat will do the trick’? Full make-up, a quick ‘face refresh’, or a day in the style of ‘the world must bear my truth’? That's dozens to over a hundred decisions before you even really start your day. And each one is a tiny loop that your brain has to close. It's like opening more and more tabs in your browser. It may seem like a small thing, but after the fiftieth tab, even the most powerful computer starts to wheeze. Your brain registers every micro-change, every ‘yes or no’, every thought: ‘now or later?’, ‘this or that?’, ‘right away or after coffee?’. And it doesn't matter to it whether it's choosing an app to play music or whether you'll have anything to eat today: the decision-making mode is the same. That's why you may feel like you ‘haven't done anything yet’ and you're already tired. Because you have. Only most of it went into analysis, not action. 🟨 BOX: Micro-decision fatigue test • You change your outfit several times before leaving the house. • You open an email, close it and say ‘later’. • You take a screenshot of an important message to ‘come back to later’... and you don't come back • You end the day feeling like you were busy, but you didn't really get much done The more ‘yes’ answers you have, the more energy you spend on decisions rather than on living. Fourth: the digital world – a factory of decision-making fluff Phones are no longer a tool. Phones are a factory of choices. Every notification is a decision: open, don't open, read, put off until later, reply, ignore. Every email: read now or later, reply immediately, leave it for ‘after the break’, mark it, move it, filter it. Every scroll: stop, rewind, enter comments, click on profile, add to favourites, share, ‘save for later’. Every app is designed to trigger another ‘what to do?’ in you. The brain cannot recognise that it's just Instagram, TikTok or another WhatsApp group. For the old, caveman part of your nervous system, every sudden signal, sound or flashing dot is like the crack of a branch in the forest. And the crack of a branch in the forest meant one thing: ‘something might eat you, you should decide – now.’ That's why we're so tired of things that ‘objectively’ shouldn't be tiring: sitting on the sofa, browsing social media, replying to emails. Biologically, it looks like a day spent in constant combat readiness. 🟦 BOX: Work fatigue or stimulus fatigue? • After a day of work, you know what you've done – this is ‘effect’ fatigue. • After a day of scrolling, you feel drained, but you don't know where your energy has gone. • If you feel the latter more often, it's not ‘laziness,’ it's system overload. Fifth: the brain does not need perfection. It needs direction. This is neurobiological gold. Dopamine, the motivation hormone, does not activate in response to a perfect plan, a beautiful goal, a moving inspiration or another ‘motivational quote’. Dopamine starts dancing when the brain sees one thing: direction. You don't need to know exactly how you're going to get there. You don't need to be sure that it's the ‘smartest’ option. You don't need to have five contingency plans written down. All you need is a clear ‘let's go there’. If you choose, your brain goes. If you don't choose, your brain turns off the engine. What we often call ‘lack of motivation,’ ‘laziness,’ or ‘lack of will to live’ is very often simply a decision-making failure: too many options, too little direction. Too many tabs. Too much ‘I'll think about it.’ Too many ‘I don't know, we'll see’. This is not moral weakness. It is a weakening of the control system. 🟨 BOX: One question that unlocks dopamine Instead of struggling with the question ‘what is the best decision?’, try: ‘Which way do I WANT to try first?’ The brain doesn't need guarantees. It needs a first step. Sixth: no decision can be more dangerous than a bad decision Your limbic system – that old, reptilian part of your brain – is not a fan of uncertainty. It sees fog and immediately sounds the alarm: ‘life-threatening’. In the world of cavemen, this made sense. If you thought too long about whether to run or stay, whether to climb a tree or stay in the bushes, whether to leave the cave or wait, the risk was simple: someone or something would make the decision for you. And usually it would be a tiger. Today, the tiger has been replaced by other things: an unsent email, a conversation you're avoiding, a relationship where you're stuck between ‘stay’ and “leave”, a task you've been putting off for three months. But for the brain, the pattern is the same: we're in ‘I don't know’ for too long = alarm. Hence the many physical symptoms resulting from mental suspension: insomnia, migraines, heart palpitations, stomach cramps, hypersensitivity, irritability, emotional swings. This is not dramatising or ‘making a scene’. It is the body saying, ‘I am not made for eternal half-decisions, choose anything, just close this loop.’ 🟦 BOX: How the body says, ‘make a decision already’ • the same symptoms return when you think about one specific issue • the longer you put off a decision, the worse you sleep and the more you think • the need to escape arises: TV series, scrolling, eating, anything to avoid feeling the tension • the topic comes back again and again, despite attempts to ‘not think about it’ Seventh: living in superposition – ten versions of yourself at once You know that feeling when your head is full like an overloaded hard drive, and you haven't ‘done anything big today’? In the background, there are simultaneous threads: work, money, housing, health, children, family, relationships, ‘what I'll say tomorrow’, ‘what I didn't say yesterday’, plans for the weekend, fear of the future, and the thought that it would be good to rest sometime. Each of these topics is an open tab. Your brain has to keep each of them going energetically, as if you were baking a cake, doing your make-up, driving a car, looking after a child, scrolling through Instagram, planning Christmas, arguing in your imagination and still wondering if you shouldn't ‘take better care of yourself’. Your laptop can freeze with seventeen Chrome tabs open. You try to function with fifty-seven and still blame yourself for ‘not being able to cope’. This is not a failure. It is system overload. 🟨 BOX: Mini exercise – list of open tabs Take a piece of paper and write down everything that's been on your mind lately: things you think about several times a day. Then mark the ones you can actually influence here and now (in the next few days). Just seeing it in black and white begins to close part of the loop. Eighth: clarity – the moment when the universe says ‘thank you’ In quantum physics, this is called wave function collapse: all possible options collapse and one remains. In psychobiology, we talk about closing the conflict loop. In everyday life, it sounds less spectacular: ‘Okay. I'll do it.’ And yet, a lot happens in this seemingly mundane moment: the body calms down, cortisol begins to drop, dopamine kicks in, energy returns, emotions settle down, and thoughts begin to form into more meaningful sentences. Why? Because finally there is direction. Out of millions of potential universes, there is only one left: the one where you actually do something, rather than just contemplating it. The universe – and your nervous system – finally know where to send the energy package. Ninth: the paradox of routine – the elixir of youth and the elixir of boredom in one bottle Here comes the beautiful paradox that you like so much: routine both saves you and ages you. On the one hand, routine lowers stress levels, reduces the number of decisions, gives a sense of predictability and security, and stabilises the nervous system. It's like pouring yourself a glass of good red wine every day for comfort – a slight relaxation, a pleasant ‘phew’, the body stops standing at attention. Without routine, the brain lives in a mode of ‘what, where, when, how, why, with whom, why, and if not...?’. Routine allows you to say, ‘Sunshine, there's no need to analyse here, we do it automatically’. And that's really good. But on the other hand – if routine turns into concrete, if it lasts too long without any modifications, if it kills curiosity and stimuli, if it makes you go on autopilot for weeks... the brain begins to age functionally. Not spectacularly, but slowly, elegantly, like a rose in a crystal vase that no one thought to change the water in. Neurologically, the brain does not age because it repeats something. It ages when it has too few opportunities to create new connections. And new connections are created when you do something differently: you learn, you try, you experience different sounds, images, words, paths, tastes. 🟦 BOX: Healthy routine vs dead routine Healthy routine: • makes your day easier instead of more difficult • gives you a sense of support, not suffocation • after doing it, you feel more space Dead routine: • you do it ‘because you have to’, but you no longer know why • you find it difficult to change anything, even though you feel you need to • days merge into one, and life looks like a ‘copy-paste’ loop Tenth: the ideal proportion – 80% routine, 20% novelty This conflict gives rise to a simple but very effective rule: eighty percent of life can be calm, predictable and ‘routine,’ while twenty percent should be new, different, a little surprising. That 80% is your rituals, structures, habits, repetitive paths. It's your morning coffee, a similar daily routine, fixed meal times, familiar clothing choices, repetitive micro-rituals that don't require your brain to stand on its head. The 20% is the spice. It's a different route to the shop. A new tea. Different music in the shower. A nail polish colour you ‘would never wear, but still’. Three minutes of dancing to an absurdly silly song. A short conversation with someone outside your bubble. A book from a section you don't normally even look at. It's the little everyday ‘oh, I haven't seen that before’. The brain loves two states at the same time: ‘it's safe here’ and ‘but it's not boring’. In this mixture, it works like a young god. 🟨 BOX: Mini recipe for the 80/20 day • 80% – familiar things: fixed rituals, repetitive decisions, a predictable daily routine • 20% – one small element that is different from usual: a new flavour, a new route, different music, a new colour, a small spontaneous decision It doesn't have to be a revolution. It's meant to be a signal to the brain: ‘the world is still interesting’. Eleventh: routine as a foundation, novelty as oxygen Routine gives you energy for what is important. Novelty gives you the feeling that you are living, not just replaying. When you are less tired of making decisions, you have more space for creativity, relationships, development, deep conversations, passions, and pleasure. When you have a fixed daily framework, you can allow yourself spontaneity that doesn't turn everything upside down. Routine is not a prison, although it can easily become one if you stop observing yourself. Routine is the stage. And novelty is your dance. Conclusion: Your brain does not want perfection. It wants clarity. We live in an age of thirty thousand micro-decisions a day, a thousand stimuli, endless scrolling and eternal superposition. It's normal to sometimes want to throw your own head out the window and buy a new one. It's normal to feel tired. It's normal to feel chaos. But the solution doesn't have to be complicated. It's not the perfect decision that brings relief, but the clear decision. Not a perfect routine, but a kind routine that supports you instead of controlling you. Not constant ecstasy of novelty, but small, reasonable doses of curiosity. Energy does not return when you do more. Energy returns when you finally say: ‘I decide.’ And you close the box with the cat. At least for today.

The benefits of illness. Sounds absurd, doesn't it? 🤯 Because when we ask you directly, you answer without hesitation: ‘Of course I want to be healthy. Who doesn't?’ Exactly. On a conscious level, everything is clear, elegant and correct. Health, vitality, energy, fitness, long walks, dancing in the kitchen and morning coffee without back pain. But our biology... Oh, it doesn't work according to social declarations. It is not interested in what is appropriate. It does not listen to wishes or affirmations from Instagram. It does not participate in the competition for ‘the most motivated person to recover’. It only checks one thing: What is the emotional truth? That is: what is really safer for me... health or illness? And this is where the less romantic but extremely fascinating part of the story begins. When illness turns out to be... the solution Let's pause for a moment. Have you ever experienced the following: – You caught a cold just before a family gathering that you didn't feel like going to? – you ‘accidentally’ twisted your knee just when your frustration at work reached apocalyptic levels? – you got a migraine just when you had to bring up a difficult topic with your partner? Coincidence? Or rather a brilliant, albeit somewhat devious, protective system? Because illness — apart from pain, discomfort and prescriptions — can give you something else: • attention • care • an excuse • exemption from duties • the right to rest • an emergency exit And suddenly: — someone notices you — someone sympathises with you — someone cares about you — someone listens to you Nice. Warm. Safe. And this is where the dangerous elegance of this situation begins... Because the brain learns a new equation: Deteriorating health = greater closeness, more attention, less loneliness. And this equation can be addictive. More so than sugar, Netflix and a toxic ex-partner combined. Who will I be when I'm no longer sick? This is one of the most difficult questions we can ask ourselves. Working in the field of Biodecoding and Recall Healing, you often hear people say: ‘Who will I be when I no longer have this illness?’ ‘What will I build my identity on?’ ‘Will anyone still notice me?’ ‘Will I still be needed?’ I know the story of a man with MS who for years functioned almost exclusively through the prism of his illness. The progress was enormous. Until the moment when internal resistance appeared: ‘I don't want to get better. Because then I'll have to live.’ Because health means responsibility. It means change. It means stepping out of your role. It means abandoning familiar patterns — even if they are uncomfortable, they are still... familiar. And sometimes that hurts more than the symptom itself. A concrete example? Here you go. How the body protects itself - in style 🍸 Let's take a topic that can be sensitive but is extremely telling: being overweight . From a Biodecoding perspective, it's not always just a matter of food. It's often a biological shield. Armour. A safety wall. Examples? 1. Being overweight as protection against excessive sexual interest (women) In the background, there may be experiences of boundary violations, harassment, violence, rape, personal or familial. The body chooses a strategy: ‘if I become less attractive, I will be safe’. The extra weight creates distance. A veil. A buffer. And paradoxically, it protects against further threats. 2. Excess weight as a shield against betrayal (men) The loyalty mechanism: ‘if I am not attractive, I do not tempt or provoke, so I will not be betrayed’. The body chooses a form that minimises the risk of breaking up the relationship. A paradox? By reducing its attractiveness and the possibility of meeting anyone, it also minimises the risk of entering into a relationship — and thus potential betrayal. So the body chooses obesity as a strategy: better not to be at all than to experience the pain of betrayal. 3. Illness as a ticket to attention A symptom gives the right to weakness, to being noticed, to care that was not there before. In illness, one can finally be important – not for one's achievements, but simply for one's existence. 4. Ailment as an excuse for life Back pain, knee pain, heart pain... the perfect line of defence against delegations, responsibility, confrontation, decisions that hung over your head like the sword of Damocles anyway. 5. Asthma as a signal: ‘I don't have enough space to breathe’ It often occurs in people living in controlling, suffocating relationships, with a feeling that they have no right to their own space, voice or choice. The body constricts the breath because emotionally they are not allowed to ‘catch their breath’. 6. Back pain as the burden of responsibility ‘Everything is on my shoulders,’ ‘I have to be strong,’ ‘without me, it will all fall apart’ — the spine becomes a metaphor for carrying other people's emotions, problems and responsibilities. Illness permits to put down this burden finally. 7. Skin problems as a wall separating you from the world The skin — a boundary. When relationships hurt, when contact hurts, the body creates visible armour. Acne, psoriasis and atopic dermatitis can be a manifestation of ‘don't touch me,’ ‘don't come near me.’ 8. Intestinal diseases as an inability to digest a situation IBS, constipation, diarrhoea, inflammation — when emotions are too difficult to digest, the body takes over the narrative. It is biology saying, ‘I can't take this anymore.’ The body does not choose randomly. It chooses what seems safest at the moment. Illness as a trademark There are situations in which an ailment becomes part of one's image. It creates character. It builds recognition. Hair loss that becomes an artistic manifesto. Vitiligo that gives a stage identity of uniqueness. An illness that makes you ‘somebody.’ And although it sounds controversial, it is sometimes thanks to it that we feel visible. And visibility is a very expensive currency. Do you really want to get better? This question is not an accusation. It is an invitation. An invitation to have an honest conversation with yourself: What does being ill give me? What does it free me from? What does it protect me from? What need can I not fulfil in any other way? Because as long as the benefits of illness outweigh the benefits of health, the healing process will be blocked. Out of love. Out of loyalty. Out of fear. Out of a need to belong. Health as maturity Being healthy is not just about the absence of symptoms. It is about agreeing to live without masks. It is about being ready for authenticity. It is about allowing yourself to take responsibility for your emotions and boundaries. Health requires courage. Illness often gives you a break. The question is... how long do you want to take advantage of it? A little reflective exercise Take two A4 sheets of paper. On one, write: ‘My life with symptoms’ On the other: ‘My life without symptoms’ Stand on each of them in turn and notice: – what you feel in your body – what thoughts arise – what future you see Then look at both from a distance. Without judgement. With curiosity. Because the greatest healing power is not struggle. It is awareness. And love. And now, be brave. No sugarcoating. No spiritual frills. Because sometimes illness becomes more than just a solution. It becomes a shield. An excuse. A bargaining chip. A pass to a softness we never allowed ourselves before. Sometimes it allows us to finally say, ‘I don't have the strength.’ Sometimes, thanks to it, we finally don't have to be strong. Sometimes the symptom becomes the only moment when the world stops and someone says, ‘Sit down, rest, I'll take care of you.’ And suddenly a question arises, as uncomfortable as tight jeans after Christmas: Do I really want this to go away? Or am I more afraid of life without this protective shell? Because if I recover, I will have to: – set boundaries, – take responsibility, – change relationships, – stop sacrificing myself to the point of pain, – leave the role of victim, – face the truth. And that's already master level. Not everyone today wants such an upgrade of their existence. Sometimes illness protects us from conflicts we cannot resolve. From decisions we put off for years. From freedom, which, paradoxically, is more frightening than a cage. Because health is not always comfortable. Health requires courage, authenticity and a willingness to accept that not everyone will be happy with the new version of you. And yes, it's not a spiritual spa with aromatherapy and Tibetan singing bowls. It's a process of maturing. So instead of just asking, ‘Why did I get sick?’ perhaps it's worth asking: Is illness protecting me from something bigger? From the life that has been calling me for a long time? From my own truth? Because being healthy means allowing yourself to be yourself. Without a script of suffering. Without a role learned over generations. Without a contract for loneliness disguised as heroism. And this is where the real transformation begins. Not when you want to ‘get rid of the symptom’. But when you have the courage to see what that symptom gives you. And ask yourself in a whisper – or very loudly: Am I ready to live differently? Because health is not a state. It is a decision. Every day. Sometimes uncomfortable. Always true. ✺ You can always refuse to let illness play the leading role in your life. You can always change the narrative. You can always choose differently. The decision is yours. Today. Tomorrow. Right now. And if this text has struck a chord with you, look at it with tenderness. Sometimes it is this that leads to true healing.

A Biodecoding Look at Masculinity, Control & the Art of Letting Go There are a few topics that make men shuffle in their seats faster than the word “prostate.” The moment it’s mentioned, the room suddenly needs more air. We can talk about cars, football, or gadgets for hours — but bring up that walnut-sized gland, and silence falls like fog over London. Yet the prostate is far more than a piece of anatomy — it’s a mirror . It reflects how a man feels about power, potency, worth, and intimacy. In Biodecoding terms, when the prostate speaks through inflammation, enlargement, or even cancer, it’s not attacking — it’s confessing. 👑 The Kingdom of Control A man’s relationship with his prostate often begins where his sense of control ends. In youth, control feels easy — work goes well, the body responds, the future seems obedient. Then one day, the mirror whispers: “You’re not twenty anymore.” Hairlines migrate, waistlines expand, and even the car insurance costs more. In the biological theatre, the prostate plays the role of the inner king  — the one who rules creation, reproduction, and action. When this king feels dethroned — by retirement, rejection, or a loss of virility — the body registers the coup. Cells swell in protest, symbolically reclaiming lost territory: “I’m still needed. I still matter.” Benign prostatic hyperplasia suddenly looks less like a random malfunction and more like a political rebellion in the kingdom of self-worth. ⚖️ The Weight of Expectation Society doesn’t make it easy.A man is expected to be strong but  sensitive, ambitious but  humble, dominant but  gentle — basically a Swiss Army knife in human form. When he inevitably fails to meet all those expectations, shame sneaks in. Many men with prostate issues describe feeling irrelevant, unneeded, or cut off from their families. They’ve retired from work, but not from responsibility. They still try to “protect” their grown children, to be the patriarch — even when no one’s asking for one. Inside, there’s that quiet ache: “I can’t fix their lives anymore.” The body, ever loyal, picks up the emotion. The prostate swells — not from infection, but from unspoken grief. ❤️‍🔥 Desire Under Pressure Biologically, the prostate is the gatekeeper of male sexuality. Emotionally, it guards the entrance to vulnerability. And let’s be honest — vulnerability isn’t exactly a celebrated masculine trait. A man who once defined himself through potency might suddenly find his body refusing to cooperate. That’s not punishment; it’s feedback. The body is saying: “Stop performing. Start feeling.” Nature, with her quiet sense of humour, hides the most delicate lessons in the most awkward places. The man who’s spent a lifetime proving his power is finally invited to explore tenderness. It’s the ultimate cosmic prank: when you can no longer do , you must learn to be. 🧬 The Family Drama Behind many prostate conflicts hides the family script : the over-protective father, the absent one, or the loving but domineering mother who emasculated through care. Each leaves an imprint. The subconscious keeps proving: “I am man enough.” When life echoes old patterns — a son rebels, a partner criticises — the body revisits that buried scene. A blocked prostate might mirror a blocked ability to assert oneself. Difficulty urinating? Maybe difficulty letting go  emotionally. Same reflex, just relocated from psyche to pelvis. 🌧️ Guilt, Sex & the British Weather Let’s not underestimate cultural seasoning. In many Western cultures, guilt and sex share the same postcode. From school to church to polite conversation, men learn that desire is something to manage, not enjoy. So the guilt accumulates like British drizzle — never dramatic, but endlessly persistent. The result? Men quietly apologising to their own bodies. One client once told me, half-laughing: “I think my prostate is Catholic.” There’s truth in the joke. Whenever pleasure feels sinful, the body compensates with tension. And tension, over time, becomes tissue. 🛡️ When the Protector Needs Protecting A striking pattern appears among men with prostate issues — they’re often lifelong protectors . They’ve looked after everyone else: wives, children, employees, even neighbours. But when their own needs knock, they pretend not to hear. That emotional constipation turns physical. The man who never allows himself to receive ends up swollen with the weight of unshared burdens. His body whispers: “You can’t keep giving from an empty tank.” 🌿 Healing the King Healing doesn’t come through heroics. It comes through humility. By admitting that manhood isn’t measured in erections, salaries, or authority — but in connection . A few gentle reframes: ✨ Redefine power  – Power isn’t domination; it’s presence.✨ Release guilt  – Every act of tenderness, even toward yourself, is an act of trust in life.✨ Stop managing others  – Your children, your partner, your company — none of them need a general. They need a witness.✨ Reclaim pleasure  – Whether sex, gardening, or jazz — relearn enjoyment without performance. The prostate thrives on joy the same way the heart thrives on love. ⚔️ A Quiet Revolution If women’s liberation reclaimed voice and space, perhaps men’s liberation is to reclaim softness and grace . The body keeps nudging until the message lands: You’re not broken; you’re being re-educated. Healing begins when a man stops fighting his own biology and starts listening to it. Every twinge, every awkward GP visit, every night-time trip to the loo — it’s not the end of vitality. It’s the beginning of honesty. 🕯️ Closing Reflection The prostate, for all its bad PR, is the body’s quiet philosopher — small, stubborn, and wise. It keeps asking: “What would happen if you stopped proving and started trusting?” Maybe the answer isn’t in medicine alone, but in the quiet courage to be human — messy, ageing, imperfect, and still utterly magnificent. Because the most potent man in the room isn’t the one who never falters —but the one who can laugh, love, and let go when it’s time.  💫 Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.

Psychology used to be like a map of the world before the age of geographical discoveries. Monsters were drawn in the margins, and in the centre — a human being lost between reason and emotions. Freud, Adler and Jung were the three explorers who laid the first milestones. Each of them saw a different piece of the human landscape. But it was Biodecoding that showed how these worlds connect. Freud — the past that never sleeps It started with Freud, a man who took a candle and descended into the basement of the human psyche. There, amid dust, shame and strange dreams, he discovered something he called the unconscious . According to him, our reactions today are an echo of old wounds. So he carried in his pocket the belief that ‘a person is what has happened to them’ . That is why so many of us still look for the causes of suffering in the past. In our parents, in our childhood, in a lack of attention, in a wounded ego. It is a path into the depths — valuable, but sometimes ending in a dead end: because you can analyse your wounds your whole life and never really process them. Freud left us a mirror, but without a handle. Adler — the future that calls And then came Adler, Freud's somewhat rebellious student, and said: ‘Enough of this rummaging in the ashes. Man is not only history, he is also direction.’ Adler looked in the opposite direction — towards the goal, the meaning, the future. He claimed that it is not trauma that drives us, but longing . Not pain, but the need for belonging, meaning and purpose. He reminded us that people can build themselves from dreams, not just scars. His approach was like opening a window in a stuffy therapy room. Instead of asking ‘what was done to you?’, he asked: ‘Where do you want to go?’ Jung — the depth that connects everything And then Jung appeared — a philosopher, a dreamer and a bit of an alchemist. He was not satisfied with either the past or the future. He went even deeper — to a place where our stories intertwine with the history of all humanity. He discovered the collective unconscious , full of archetypes, symbols and dreams that we all know, even though no one taught them to us. He understood that a person is not just to be ‘fixed’ — they are to integrate . To become whole. In his eyes, life is not therapy, but a journey of initiation. And every crisis is not a punishment, but a call to awakening. And then came Total Biology/Biodecoding — and with a smile, it brought them all together Because Biodecoding is, in a sense, the child of these three — but with its own soul. It does not contradict any of them, but instead adds a third dimension to their two-dimensional maps. From Freud, it is understood that the past leaves traces. From Adler — awareness of purpose, meaning and direction. From Jung, a fascination with symbolism and depth. But it adds something that none of them fully captured: the body . In Biodecoding, the body is not a ‘vehicle of the soul,’ but its living interpreter. It speaks when the mind is at a standstill. It remembers when we have forgotten. It teaches when we only read. Our body – Freud with humour, Adler with hope and Jung with poetry When your stomach hurts, Freud whispers, ‘See what you haven't emotionally digested.’ Adler adds, ‘Think about where you're running to and whether it's really your path.’ And Jung will smile and murmur, ‘Check what this pain symbolises in your journey to yourself.’ And Biodecoding? It will simply help you listen to all of this at once — without fear, without labels, without diagnoses. Because your body is not your enemy. It is your best interpreter. Sometimes it speaks subtly, like Jung's poetry. Sometimes brutally, like a letter from Freud. But it always speaks with a love that Adler would not deny. Why did the world choose Freud over Jung and Adler? Because it is easier to build a system around what does not work than around what might work. It is easier to ‘fix’ than to learn to listen. That is why our contemporary psychology has grown on diagnoses, disorders and deficits. There is no room for meaning, for the body, for mystery. And yet, a human being is not a mechanism. You cannot ‘fix’ them like a washing machine. A human being is a symphony — sometimes in major, sometimes in minor. And only when you allow yourself to hear every sound — even the false ones — do you become whole. Bio-decoding — the art of returning to yourself In Bio-decoding, we don't ask, ‘What's wrong with me?’ We ask: ‘Why is my body doing what it is doing?’ This question changes everything. Because instead of fighting the symptom, you start listening to its language. Instead of looking for blame, you discover meaning. Instead of being a ‘patient,’ you become an explorer. And then something softens. The pain loses its accusatory tone. The symptom ceases to be the enemy. And you — you cease to be the victim of the story you have been repeating. Freud looked back, Adler looked forward, Jung looked deep. And Biodecoding — looks inside , through the body , towards life . It is not a religion, not a therapy, not a philosophy. It is a language through which the soul converses with biology. Sometimes in tears, sometimes in laughter, and sometimes in pain, which suddenly turns out to be a letter from yourself. And that is precisely its beauty. Because Biodecoding does not say ‘fix yourself’. It says: ‘understand why you protect yourself so beautifully.’

No one wakes up expecting to negotiate with their lungs. And yet, when the diagnosis comes — lung cancer , adenocarcinoma , or any other intimidating Latin term — that’s exactly what it feels like: a conversation you didn’t know you’d been having for years, suddenly broadcast at full volume. The truth is, the lungs had been whispering long before the scans ever lit up. They were sighing, tightening, holding their breath for you — because you were too busy holding your breath for life. 🌬️ When Survival Becomes a Habit 💭 In the language of Total Biology, lung cancer isn’t a random act of cruelty. It’s a desperate love letter from the body — written in the ink of survival. Every cell is screaming: “Let me live. Let me breathe. Let me find air again.” The biological sense behind lung adenocarcinoma is strikingly poetic. When we experience terror — especially the fear of dying  or of someone close dying — the brain activates a survival programme. It orders the body to grow more alveoli, more tiny air sacs, as if saying: “If I can just capture a bit more oxygen, I might make it.” It’s an ancient logic. The same one that kept our ancestors alive when a tiger jumped out of the bushes. 🐅Only now, the tiger looks more like a diagnosis, a hospital bill, or the sound of someone we love taking their last breath. So, the question isn’t “Why did my body fail me?” It’s “What was I so afraid of losing that my body tried to save me?” Fear of Death, Fear of Life 😮‍💨 Many people think cancer is about the end. But in Biodecoding, it’s often about a fight to stay . The lungs, bless them, only turn dramatic when life starts to feel unlivable — when every breath tastes like fear. Have you ever had a moment when your chest tightened, not from running, but from news ? A phone call, a diagnosis, a silent goodbye? ☎️💔That’s not coincidence — that’s your biology staging a full-blown Shakespearean tragedy to say: “This moment feels like death.” Sometimes, the “death” is symbolic: a marriage ending, a home lost, a dream collapsing. The body doesn’t need an actual coffin to start mourning — it only needs to believe the air is gone. And yet, cancer is not the villain. It’s the body’s misguided attempt to buy you more time — a survival overreaction, the emotional equivalent of hoarding oxygen tanks in your basement. 🫧 The Imprisoned Breath 🔒 Behind many lung conflicts lies another quiet torment — the imprisonment conflict . That sense of being trapped: in a room, in a body, in a life that no longer feels like your own. You don’t have to be in a literal cell to feel caged. Maybe it’s caring for a sick partner, a job that demands everything, or a relationship where you’ve forgotten what your own laughter sounds like. The brain doesn’t care whether the door is open. It only registers the feeling: “I can’t get out. I can’t breathe.” Have you ever caught yourself thinking, “This is suffocating me”  — and then brushed it off as just a phrase? Your biology doesn’t brush it off. It files it under “urgent.”  🚨 When the Body Gets Too Literal 🤷‍♀️ The body, bless its earnestness, is terrible with metaphors. Say “I’m dying here!” enough times, and your cells might just take it as a serious request. Say “I feel trapped,” and your lungs start shrinking the walls to prove the point. It’s not rebellion. It’s devotion — the same devotion that made your first breath possible. That tiny gasp when you entered the world wasn’t random; it was your body’s first declaration of independence. 🌱And when you forget how to live freely, the lungs are the first to protest. Whose Air Are You Breathing? 🌬️ Lung cancer often hides in stories soaked with loyalty — to the dead, to the family, to promises never questioned. Children who watched a parent gasp for air. Partners who slept through the rhythmic hiss of hospital machines. People who spent years in “holding patterns,” waiting for permission to exhale. Where in your life do you hold your breath for others?Whose air are you trying to share — or save — at the cost of your own? Sometimes the conflict is collective. You inhale generations of unspoken grief, ancestral fear of death, silence around loss. The lungs, those noble archivists, carry every breath your ancestors never got to take. 🕊️ Biology’s Dark Comedy 🎭 Let’s admit — the body has a wicked sense of humour. While you’re busy managing your schedule, it’s quietly rewriting the script. If you refuse to say, “This situation is killing me,” it may decide to show  you instead — just to drive the point home. Cancer, in this view, is not punishment. It’s performance art — a clumsy but well-intentioned attempt to translate suppressed terror into visible form. Like a child painting on the wall just to make sure you finally see  it. 🎨 Breathing the Truth 🌤️ Healing doesn’t begin in a hospital; it begins in honesty. The moment you stop pretending that the room isn’t too small, that the air isn’t too thin, that the fear isn’t too real — that’s when the first clean breath arrives. What situation in your life is costing you too much air?Where do you feel caged, cornered, or quietly dying a little each day? These aren’t poetic questions. They’re biological ones. Because the body doesn’t speak English or Polish. It speaks the language of sensation — tightness, suffocation, panic, fatigue. And if we ignore the whispers long enough, it raises the volume through symptoms. ⚡ The Exhale After the Storm ☁️ When the healing phase begins — whether through therapy, tears, or the strange calm that follows acceptance — the lungs often “clean house.” Coughing, fatigue, mucus — the body’s spring cleaning of all the air it held in fear. It’s messy. It’s inconvenient. But it’s a sign of release. And perhaps that’s the final paradox of lung cancer: It teaches the art of breathing not as a reflex, but as a choice. To inhale without guilt. To exhale without apology. To live without waiting for permission. 🌈 The Whisper Beneath the Diagnosis 💫 So when the doctor says lung cancer , the first instinct is terror. Understandable — the word carries weight, history, finality. But under the fear lies a quieter truth: your body hasn’t betrayed you. It’s been trying to save you all along. Maybe not elegantly. Maybe too fiercely. But always with one intention —to keep you here, breathing, until you remember how to live. 🤍 Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.

When most people think about dyslexia, they imagine letters dancing on the page, spelling mistakes, or slower reading. But in Biodecoding, dyslexia is not simply a “learning difficulty.” It’s a coded message from the unconscious — a biological way of expressing hidden emotional conflicts. What Biodecoding tells us about dyslexia According to Biodecoding, every symptom has meaning. The brain and body never make random “errors.” Instead, they adapt to help us survive emotional situations. Dyslexia, whether it shows up in reading or (as in my case) in spelling through dysorthographia , is often linked to deep themes such as: Fear of authority and punishment : Many children experience school as a battlefield of rules — read perfectly, write correctly, or face humiliation. The symptom protects by slowing down or scrambling words: If I don’t read or write clearly, maybe I’ll avoid the punishment. Fear of exclusion : Struggling with reading in front of the class can feel like being pushed out of the group. For a child’s unconscious, belonging equals survival. The symptom then becomes a shield: Better to mix letters than to risk being cast out. Blocked communication : Dyslexia can reflect a conflict between wanting to express something and fearing the consequences. The letters themselves jumble to say: It’s safer to stay unclear than to risk rejection. In this light, dyslexia is not a failure of intelligence. It is a survival programme — a biological “strategy” created by the psyche to protect us. My own case: dysorthographia I’ve always read fluently. But when I write, things take a more creative turn. Words like necessary  or definitely  become mini riddles. One c  or two? “I before E” — unless English decides otherwise. Autocorrect has been both saviour and saboteur. In Biodecoding terms, my dysorthographia is my unconscious acting out an old pattern: fear of “getting it wrong.” The mistake isn’t random — it symbolises a conflict between wanting to express and fearing judgement. My brain once learned: If mistakes equal danger, then better confuse the spelling than face the shame. Seeing it this way changes everything. Instead of fighting my mistakes, I can decode them: each red underline on the screen is a reminder of the old rule I’m slowly freeing myself from. Cultural layers Biodecoding also teaches that symptoms don’t appear in a vacuum. Culture matters. In a society where mistakes are punished, dyslexia often feels heavier. In more supportive environments, the symptom may be milder or less noticeable. Take Japan, where social structures around language and respect differ. Symptoms like dyslexia often appear less disruptive, partly because of cultural attitudes and partly because children are supported differently. It shows that the emotional environment — not just the brain — shapes the experience. The hidden gifts While the unconscious creates dyslexia to protect us, it also opens unexpected doors. Many people with dyslexia shine in areas beyond language: Big-picture vision : seeing patterns others miss. Creative problem-solving : approaching obstacles from new angles. Resilience : living with challenges builds strength and humour. Storytelling : spoken words often flow even if written ones stumble. Einstein, Richard Branson, Agatha Christie — all believed to have had dyslexia. Their brilliance was not despite  it, but partly because their brains processed the world differently. How to work with dyslexia in a Biodecoding way Listen to the symptom : Instead of forcing perfection, ask: what conflict might this mistake be pointing to? Fear of judgement? Exclusion? Authority? Reframe the “error” : A spelling slip is not stupidity; it’s a symbol. Treat it as an emotional clue. Bring humour : Laugh at the creative spellings. Humour diffuses shame. Change the environment : Surround yourself with support, not punishment. Healing comes faster when fear is removed. Affirm freedom : Remind yourself — I have the right to express myself, even imperfectly. A kinder perspective In Biodecoding, dyslexia and dysorthographia are not conditions to be “fixed.” They are intelligent biological responses to past emotional conflicts. They carry a message: I need safety. I need acceptance. I need freedom to express without fear. For me, each time I see a misspelt word in my writing, I remind myself: this isn’t failure. It’s my body whispering an old story — and inviting me to write a new one. So the next time you see “creative spelling,” whether mine or someone else’s, pause. Instead of judgement, offer curiosity. Behind those letters may be a hidden history of survival — and a spark of creativity that the world badly needs. In short:  Dyslexia is not a random disorder. In Biodecoding, it is a biological code for unspoken conflicts: fear of authority, exclusion, or expression. When we decode the message, the symptom shifts from burden to teacher. Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.

You know the scene: you open your mouth, ready to sound smart, confident, or at least coherent… and your words suddenly stage a mutiny. Instead of flowing smoothly, they trip, stumble, and refuse to line up properly. For some people, this happens only occasionally — nerves before an exam, a first date, or meeting the in-laws. For others, it becomes a daily challenge, a constant dance between wanting to say something and their tongue going: “Not today, mate.” From a medical perspective, stuttering is often seen as a speech disorder. But through the eyes of Total Biology, it’s much more than that. It’s the body’s way of replaying old emotional stories. And like any good story, it comes with characters, secrets, and a twist ending. Where does stuttering really start? Total Biology suggests that stuttering often has its roots in childhood experiences. Imagine a toddler bursting with feelings — anger, sadness, excitement — but being met with “Don’t cry!” or “Keep quiet!” That little one learns quickly: expressing myself is risky. Fast-forward twenty years, and the adult version of that child may struggle to let words out freely. It’s not because they’re lacking intelligence or vocabulary. It’s because the nervous system is still trying to protect them from the “danger” of rejection or punishment. Think of the throat as a customs checkpoint. Every word has to pass through, but if the guard inside feels the word might get you into trouble, the barrier comes down. The word hesitates, repeats, or freezes altogether. The fear behind the block At its core, stuttering often carries questions like: If I say what I really feel, will people still love me? Am I allowed to take up space? What if my words hurt someone — or expose something that should stay hidden? This isn’t just philosophy. Many people who stutter describe growing up with strict, critical, or unpredictable authority figures. Speaking up felt like a gamble. Better to hold back than risk humiliation. Everyday snapshots To make it less abstract, here are some situations where old patterns resurface: The school stage fright:  A child forgets one line in the school play. The audience giggles. From then on, every time they’re in the spotlight, their throat remembers: “Speaking equals danger.” Dinner-table politics:  Dad dominates, Mum signals to “shut it,” and the child learns the golden rule: silence = safety. Years later, in a work meeting, that rule is still in play. The job interview loop:  You know your strengths, you practised answers, but when the interviewer’s eyes lock onto you, the nervous system screams: “Don’t mess this up!” The words jam. The secret burden Some people who stutter also carry unspoken secrets. Maybe they weren’t allowed to talk about family conflicts. Maybe they sensed emotions at home but were told, “Don’t mention it.” That silence sits heavy in the body. Speaking up later feels like breaking the law. Others grew up in homes with more than one language, unsure which one was “safe” to use. That early confusion can turn into hesitation — a delay between thought and speech, as if the words need extra time to get clearance. The prison effect People often describe stuttering as living in a prison of words. They check every sentence before releasing it, worried about ridicule or rejection. The outside world feels hostile, so the inner world clamps down tighter. But here’s the paradox: the “guard” locking the gate is actually your own nervous system, convinced it’s keeping you safe. It’s not sabotage — it’s misguided protection. Opening the gate The way out isn’t about forcing fluency or waging war on stuttering. Total Biology suggests listening instead: What old memory is my body replaying right now? Whose voice do I hear when I freeze — a parent, a teacher, a critic? What feeling is stuck in my throat, waiting for air? When you start to welcome your own emotions — even the messy, tearful, angry ones — the throat relaxes. Words stop carrying the burden of censorship. They can be just words, not landmines. A cheeky perspective Yes, stuttering can be frustrating. But it also has a sense of humour. It barges in at the most inconvenient moments, like a comedian who loves awkward timing. It forces you to pause, to breathe, to pay attention. Annoying? Absolutely. But maybe it’s also your body’s way of making sure you don’t bulldoze past your own truth. A wider lesson Even if you’ve never stuttered in your life, the message applies. Every cough, rash, twitch, or stumble is your body’s way of talking. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it shouts. Stuttering is just one of the many accents in that body-language. So whether you’re someone who lives with stuttering, or simply curious about how emotions shape biology, ask yourself: What truths of mine are still waiting for their stage? ✨ Takeaway:  Your body isn’t against you. It’s not broken. It’s talking. And when you listen — really listen — your words, however they come out, finally find their home. Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.

ADHD. Three letters that often arrive with heavy sighs from teachers, late-night Google searches from parents, and a mix of frustration and relief for adults who finally get their diagnosis. But is it really just a modern label for “too much energy”? Or is there more beneath the surface? From the perspective of Total Biology and German New Medicine, the answer is clear: those symptoms are not random. They’re the body’s way of acting out deeper emotional stories. The Classic Picture of ADHD You know the signs already: Attention span shorter than an Instagram reel. Ten projects started, none finished. Movement levels that make Red Bull look like chamomile tea. Forgetting why you walked into the kitchen (again). These traits can be frustrating, but Total Biology asks a different question: what’s the biology trying to say with all this energy? Before Birth: The “I’m Alive!” Programme Take the story of a mother who experienced bleeding during pregnancy or was told to stay in bed. Every time the baby kicked, she felt relief: “Thank goodness, my baby’s alive.” For the child, this becomes a subconscious programme: “If I move, Mum relaxes. Movement keeps me safe.”  Later, as a child, the hyperactivity isn’t misbehaviour – it’s biology still trying to prove: “Look, I’m here, I’m alive.” The “Don’t Want to Think About It” Programme Now picture a different scene. The father, absorbed in work or glued to football matches, gives little attention to his pregnant partner. She feels ignored, maybe furious: “I don’t want to hear about this anymore!” That intense rejection of a topic can leave a mark. The child may grow up struggling with focus, their biology whispering: “Better not think too much about things.” After Birth: When Life Gets Complicated ADHD symptoms can also appear later, when life delivers its dramas: Parents separating or arguing constantly – the child feels stuck in the middle and bounces energy around like a pinball. Moving house or school – suddenly cut off from friends, the nervous system protests with restlessness. A new sibling arrives – less parental attention, so movement becomes a way of shouting: “Don’t forget me!” In each case, the child’s biology is solving an emotional problem the only way it knows how. Famous Lives, Same Story Look around, and you’ll see ADHD running through the lives of people who’ve shaped culture, sport and business. Richard Branson , the Virgin empire builder, turned restless energy into fearless entrepreneurship. Simone Biles , gymnast legend, flips hyperactivity into Olympic gold. Jamie Oliver , the chef, cooks with the energy of a rock star on stage. Emma Watson  and Channing Tatum , actors who’ve both spoken about ADHD, show how it fuels creativity on screen. Justin Bieber  took his restlessness onto the stage and into a global music career. Michael Jordan , king of basketball, channelled his intensity into unrivalled focus on the court. These stories show that ADHD isn’t just a “problem to manage.” It can be raw power, if given direction. Why Pills Aren’t the Whole Answer Doctors often prescribe medication to “quiet children down.” But from a Total Biology angle, ADHD isn’t about being “too much.” It’s about proving life, proving presence. The real question is: what conflict is the body still replaying? So What Can Be Done? For young children, the most powerful tool is parental awareness. A mother who tells her child: “I know I was scared in pregnancy, but you’re safe now, you’re alive, and everything’s fine”  can sometimes calm their nervous system in minutes. For adults, tracing the exact root isn’t always possible – but coping strategies help: Knitting or doodling while listening, to let the body move without hijacking the mind. Writing everything down in planners so memory lapses don’t derail daily life. Breaking tasks into short bursts, with “movement snacks” in between. It’s about partnering with your biology, not fighting it. ADHD as a Gift Yes, ADHD can bring chaos. But it can also bring creativity, humour, boldness, and relentless drive. From Will Smith’s charisma to Jim Carrey’s explosive comedy, from Richard Branson’s ventures to Simone Biles’ gymnastic genius – the pattern is the same. The energy that once caused trouble can become a superpower. Perhaps the trick is not asking “How do I get rid of ADHD?”  but “How do I steer it so it works for me?” A Final Thought ADHD, through the lens of Total Biology, isn’t a broken brain. It’s a clever biological solution to old emotional conflicts. Once the story is understood, the label stops being a life sentence and becomes a clue. So next time you meet someone who can’t sit still, changes topics mid-sentence, or loses their keys for the fifth time this week – maybe pause before judging. Their biology may just be working overtime to shout: “I’m alive. I’m here. Don’t forget me.” 👉 And you? Do you see ADHD more as a struggle, a gift, or a mix of both? Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.

Have you ever had a situation where, just when you're running late, your car suddenly decides not to start? Or that in the middle of the night, the tap starts dripping, driving you crazy? If you think it's ‘bad luck,’ I have good news for you. Nothing of the sort! It's the language of the Universe. Yes, the Universe has its own way of communicating with us – and it often uses our homes, cars and appliances to do so. Home, or you yourself Home is not just four walls and a roof over your head. It is... you. Your body, your emotions, your psyche. The roof  is your father (or the masculine energy in your life). If it leaks, it may be a sign that you feel unprotected or that someone is ‘walking all over you’. The floor  is your mum (the ground you stand on). When it collapses, it may be a sign that something in your relationship with your mother needs attention. The walls ? They are your spine and your sense of structure. Are they cracking? You may feel unsupported. A real-life anecdote: a friend told me that whenever she argued with her husband, the wallpaper in the hall would peel off. ‘It's not the wallpaper, it's the Universe,’ I thought. ‘It's showing you that your relationship is falling apart faster than the paint on the wall.’ The kitchen, the heart of the home (and more) There is no place more symbolic than the kitchen. It is where we feed our bodies and... our emotions. Is the fridge breaking down?  It's a sign that you're putting off the pleasures of life for later. ‘Duties first, rest later.’ The problem is that ‘later’ never comes. The stove?  It's your sexuality. If it breaks down, maybe it's time to check if you really feel joy and passion in your relationship. A fire in the kitchen?  Lack of trust in your father or yourself. It sounds serious, but often it is in small things like a kettle (always boiling with water) that the message is hidden: hey, maybe you need to let off some steam yourself? The bathroom – an emotional shower The bathroom is a space for cleansing. If something breaks down there, it's time to take a look at what emotions you are holding on to. A clogged sink  – the dirt of the past holds you tighter than many a mother-in-law. A leaking tap  – you are losing energy. Maybe for worrying? A clogged toilet  – well... it's literally a sign that you're not letting go of things that should have been gone long ago. Electrics – your nerves Are the light bulbs in your house burning out? It's not a ‘bad installation’. It's a sign that something in your life is unclear. For me, it's a classic: the light bulb always burns out when I try to avoid talking to someone important. It flickers, goes out... and seems to say, ‘Hello! There's something unresolved here!’. Car – the road of life A car is you in motion. It is your body and your life journey. The engine won't start  – you lack the energy to start a new project. A flat tyre  – something is stopping you, you can't move on. The brakes don't work  – you can't stop, you're speeding out of control. The lights stop shining  – you can't see your way, you lack clarity. What about accidents? Did someone rear-end you? Maybe it's a sign that you're feeling pressure – someone is rushing you. Did you get thrown off the road? Perhaps you are following a path that is not yours at all. Rollover? Well, your life has been turned upside down. But it's also an opportunity to see the world from a different perspective. Literally. How to use these signs? It's not about panicking every time a light flashes. It's about mindfulness . When something breaks down, stop and ask yourself 3 questions: What has broken down and what is its purpose? What does it remind me of in my life? What emotion can I notice and express right now? Sometimes a moment of reflection is enough to understand that instead of buying another pack of light bulbs... it's worth buying yourself an hour of rest. And finally – a little humour A friend says, ‘My car keeps breaking down, what bad luck!’ I reply, ‘Maybe it's not bad luck, maybe your life is telling you: Mate, slow down! You don't have to be first  everywhere.’ And another friend? Every time she started a new diet, her fridge would break down. ‘It's a sign that your body doesn't want another miracle diet – it wants acceptance,’ we laughed together. Summary A house and a car are not just things. They are mirrors of our soul and emotions . When something breaks down, it's not a punishment – it's a hint. A bit like GPS from the Universe. So next time your kettle breaks down or your car refuses to start, instead of cursing under your breath, ask: 👉 ‘What is life trying to tell me?’ And who knows – maybe you'll find the answer faster than a mechanic or plumber 😉 Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Please consult with a qualified healthcare professional for any health concerns.