When trying to answer the question, “Why am I the way I am?” it is important to try to identify the root causes of when things began. This is a primary tenet of naturopathic medicine.

For some individuals—and often in the case of adoption—it is important to go back to when you were in utero to understand certain things about yourself. It is at this early time that neurological and emotional wiring begins; therefore, the mental and emotional state of your mother (or the person who carried you to birth, in the case of adoption or surrogacy) contains important biological imprinting. Dr. Gabor Maté discusses this in his book In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts—Close Encounters with Addiction. He writes:

“In the past few decades it has become increasingly clear that the development and later behaviour of an immature organism is not only determined by genetic factors and the postnatal environment, but also by the maternal environment during pregnancy. 

Numerous studies in both animals and human beings have found that maternal stress or anxiety during pregnancy can lead to a broad range of problems in the offspring, from infantile colic to later learning difficulties and the establishment of behavioural and emotional patterns that increase a person’s predilection for addiction. Stress on the mother would result in higher levels of cortisol reaching the baby and elevated cortisol is harmful to important brain structures, especially during periods of rapid brain development.

Any woman who has to give up her baby for adoption is, by definition, a stressed woman. She is stressed not just because she knows she’ll be separated from her baby, but primarily because if she wasn’t stressed in the first place, she would never have had to consider giving up her child: the pregnancy was unwanted, or the mother was poor, single or in a bad relationship, or she was an immature teenager who conceived involuntarily, or was a drug user or was raped or confronted by some other adversity.

Any of these situations would be enough to impose tremendous stress on any person, and so for many months, the developing fetus would be exposed to high cortisol levels through the placenta. A proclivity for addiction is one possible consequence.”

In my case, my biological mother became pregnant with me when she was 16. I don’t know the circumstances surrounding my conception, except that because of her family’s religion—Irish Catholic—abortion was not an option. Her parents moved her to the other side of the country—from Grand Falls, New Brunswick to Vancouver, British Columbia—where she lived with her older sister until it was time to give birth.

Given the research cited above, it is likely that the stress my biological mother was under exposed me to cortisol, the stress hormone, at higher levels than would be experienced in planned pregnancies. As a newborn, I didn’t sleep well from the beginning—something that I would make up for during many depressive episodes later in life when all I did was sleep the days and months away.

Attachment issues The way I found out I was adopted didn’t help me to attach securely to my parents. According to the attachment theory of parenting, we are all creatures of attachment which means that what we all want most is connection, attachment and relationship, whether as a child or as an adult. What a child wants more than anything is a connection to their parent, even when there is no resemblance. Given how I learned that I was adopted, I feel it left me feeling insecure about my place in the family. Essentially, when my mom explained the word “adopted” to me, my young brain interpreted it to mean “temporary.”

As adults, we tend to assume our children understand the meaning of the words we use, but in many cases, they misconstrue it. In my case, we had watched a movie at school showing animals with their offspring, and this got me thinking about where human babies came from. The advice my parents had been given by a social worker in the late 1960s was to tell me the truth about my origins whenever I eventually asked where babies came from. After watching the movie, I went home from school curious about babies and inquisitively asked about how I came to be. My parents took this opportunity to explain that I was adopted. I internalized their explanation by assuming that I was only with them temporarily, and that some day, my “real” mom would be coming to get me.

Consequently, every time the doorbell rang or my mom started talking to someone I didn’t recognize at the store, I would wonder, “Is this the person who is coming to get me?” The years went by and no one came. I think I was 12 years old when I finally asked my mom if anyone was ever coming. Naturally, she was dismayed when she realized what had happened.

For me, learning that I was adopted, from the way I processed it to the negative comments from some family members to my parents—such as “blood is thicker than water”—cast a belief in me that I wasn’t good enough or truly wanted. It fed my insecurities, which played themselves out on the school grounds, as I was a prime target for kids to pick on. And I did get picked on—so much so that my mom had to find a job at the school so that I had more support than the teachers were able to give me. Some girls in my grade four class started an “I hate Christina” club, and this devastated me. (The funny thing is, the same thing happened to my son when he was in grade two. My heart sank when he told me. But his response highlights the difference between poor self-esteem, which I had at his age and self-confidence, which he has, as he said: “It’s okay mom—no one joined!”)

Despite my insecurities around adoption and being picked on in elementary school, there were no other traumas in my childhood. I was fortunate to be adopted into a loving family with caring parents. We moved a few times, which taught me to be resilient and accepting of others. All was well until I became a teenager and developed an eating disorder around the time my parents were getting divorced. It was then that the crack in my emotional foundation deepened.

I think the low self-esteem I had came from in utero based on the research cited by Dr. Gabor Mate. The energetics of adoption are complicated. Given the thoughts my biological mother was processing at the time and the probable trauma, scandal and embarrassment she endured for being pregnant out of wedlock at a time when this was not accepted, would have predisposed me to higher levels of cortisol as compared with a planned pregnancy. The predicament she found herself in affected my neurobiology on a deep primal level. This essentially wired me a certain way – to be insecure, anxious, sensitive, and feel like I wasn’t worthy, wanted or loved. Despite my parent’s best efforts to love me, the deeply profound sense of displacement I felt my whole life was coming from within – it was due to the faulty wiring or programming/messaging I received in utero.

The good news is I have been able to rewire my brain thanks to the concept of neuroplasticity. The bad news is this took approximately 30 years to do. I would test people to see if they would stay. I didn’t know how to communicate or express what I was feeling because most of the time I didn’t understand what I was feeling. Part of me speculates if the manifestation of bipolar disorder type 1 was due to the fact that I couldn’t express my feelings so it presented itself as illness in the emotional realm while the root cause came from this spiritual crisis of adoption. It has been said that “adoption is the only trauma in which the adoptee is expected to be grateful”.

I recently turned fifty. As with every birthday in the past, I wonder if my biological mother thinks about me. When I was 25 years old I met her and she told me that she did think if me every year on June 23. I don’t know the circumstances of her labour and delivery with me, whether I was a vaginal or c-section birth or whether she got to hold me in her arms after I was born. I do know that she kept my birth a secret from my half siblings – all of whom were shocked that their mom had a “skeleton in the closet”.

I decided to meet my biological mother because I wanted to solve the genetic mystery of bipolar disorder type 1. I had a list of questions I wanted answered, but I suddenly lost my confidence when I met her. I felt nervous about asking any questions about the circumstances surrounding my birth. My mom had written a card to Joanne, my biological mother, that read:

“Dear Joanne, Thank you for the greatest gift you could give another. All we have done is love Christina and I consider it a privilege to be her mom ~ Warmest regards, Alice.” 

While I didn’t get the medical answers I was looking for at that time. I did receive a call a few years later from my half brother that Joanne had been hospitalized and diagnosed with schizophrenia. It was shortly after that that I fell into a deep, dark depression and had attempted to commit suicide. As I was in recovery for several months, I lost touch with my biological family (this was pre-internet and texting days). One day I might return to New Brunswick to find my half sister who said she knew who my biological father was. I have often wondered why I was so curious about meeting only 50% of my genetic history and not the other 50%. I think it has to do with the bondage and biological wiring in utero that I discussed at the start of this article. For more about my recovery from bipolar disorder type 1, as well as depression, anxiety and bulimia, I encourage you to order my book: Beyond the Label: Achieving Mental Wellness with Naturopathic Medicine.

This day, 23 years ago, I completed my first Ironman event. It had been a dream of mine to do this race ever since I started doing triathlons in the 1990’s. My friend, Lisa, who I have written about before introduced me to them.

An Ironman consists of a 2.4 mile swim/112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run (3.8 km swim/180 km bike/ 42 km run for my metric friends). You have to meet a minimum qualifying time to participate. Prior to training for this, I had completed two marathons. These were a stretch for me as my favorite distance to run was 800 m – so running an additional 41.2 km was certainly not something I was good at! For many years, I let go of the Ironman dream thinking “how is that even possible?” and “where would I begin?”

After I resigned from my corporate career at HSBC and went back to school to get the prerequisites I needed to get into naturopathic medical school (first high school, then university at the age of 33), I had extra time on my hands. This was the perfect opportunity to start training for Ironman. One of the keys to success in this event are the long training rides (6-8 hours) and long runs (3-5 hours). The key for these is time – lots of it! I qualified for the event a few months before and set my sights on the race in Penticton on Aug 26, 2001.

On race day, it was a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. The forecast was temperatures rising to 34 C – so it would be a hot and dry. In previous race starts, I had been trampled over during the mad rush to get in the water, so for this event, I hung back after the gun start. I wanted to start my swim calmly without getting punched in the head – or worse, pulled under- by another competitor. The swim is proportionately the shortest even of the three and I had a comfortable ease as I glided through the lake water. I exited the water 1 hr 10 minutes later and ran into the tunnel towards the bike racks. I quickly located my bike and hopped on. The start of the ride is motivated as the streets are lined with people cheering you on. I noticed an extra burst of adrenaline as I raced by.

The bike course was difficult as the heat of the day was approaching and there are many hills to climb. The key to a successful bike for me was refueling while I rode (with perogies and pasta that I had cooked the day before & stashed in my bike pouch, power gels and lots of water). My biggest fear was that I would get a flat tire and thankfully this never happened. My aunt, who was camping in Osoyoos, drove to a section of the course and cheered me on as I raced by. I felt like I wanted to stop and get her to give me ride!!

When I finished the 180 km ride in 6 hrs 26 min – I had been racing for just under 7.5 hours – my first thought – was “if I run my best marathon ever, I could finish in top 25 in my age group (30 – 34)”…..this thought made me burst out loud as I attempted to start running. My legs felt like mush and I would be lucky if I could walk 42 km let alone run! But slowly and surely, I put one step in front of the other. The lactic acid build up was unreal. Other racers were popping anti-inflammatories like candy, and at one point on the course, someone offered my ibuprofen and I decided to take it. In this day and age, I would probably think twice before taking a little pill from a random stranger while out running! The worst part about the run was that I didn’t study the course beforehand. As I neared the finish, there was a T junction and to the right of the T was the finish line – as I approached, I thought I was done, so I attempted to speed up to have a faster finish. I was dismayed to find out that at that T, it was only 41 km and the course turned left with a 500 m out and back before approaching the finish line. I walked most of that last kilometer as I had spent what little energy I had “dashing” for what I thought was the finish. But finish I did – not in the top 25 – but I did finish. I was 63^rdout of 137 in my age group with a final marathon time of 4:55 and overall time of 12 hr 40 min. What I didn’t mention was that my nephrologist was against me competing in this event as there was some concern about the ability of my kidneys to handle the stress of the event. I know this was terrifying to my mother, but I never gave it a second thought. I trusted that my kidneys would not crumble under the physiological stress – and they didn’t.

The next day, I could barely walk. I wasn’t following a naturopathic training program at that time that would have helped me with endurance, performance, and recovery. The other interesting thing to me was that I started the event with relatively clear skin. I have struggled with acne since I was 14 years old and the day after the race, my skin exploded in acne! I remember saying to a friend “Why is this happening to m skin” and her response was “It is because you are TOXIC!” At that time in my life, I was still very sensitive and I found her remark rather toxic emotionally. I left feeling insulted and even more embarrassed. Now, I look back and I am amazed at what we store inside of us. Our skin is our largest organ and an important organ of detoxification. I always tell patients that when the body tries to eliminate, it is a good thing. We live in a toxic world which is why one of the specialties at the clinic is environmental medicine. In my case, this was when I had come off psychotropic pharmaceutical medications that I had been on for 15 years – my body was clearly chemically burdened. Not only did I leave sweat on that race course, I left an environmental puddle of all the chemicals that were stored up in my body. If you are interested in an environmental assessment or if you need help supporting your ligaments and joints – please set up an appointment with Dr. Mason-Wood to discuss prolotherapy by calling 587-521-3595.

Thus ends my story of completing a lifelong dream. Now, when the going gets tough, I always remind myself “C’mon Chris, you’ve done an Ironman, you can DO this!” – whatever this is!