Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken

Last weekend I was at a seminar.

It was all about learning how to effectively present chiropractic.

Public speaking.

Jerry Seinfeld said that he heard about a study that said that speaking in front of a crowd is considered the number one fear of the average person.

Number Two was death.

Which means that for the average person if you have to be at a funeral, you'd rather be in the casket than the one delivering the eulogy.

HA! I love how Jerry Seinfeld thinks.

(Did you know that he has regular chiropractic care?)

Anyway, this specific seminar was one that I've wanted to attend for a while. 


One of my biggest challenges in what I do is HOW do I tell people about chiropractic without either scaring people, or make them think I'm a nutter?

It's something I've been facing since I knew I wanted to be a chiropractor.

For me, what feels like nearly all my life, chiropractic has been who I am, an intricate part of my identity, and a core passion of mine.

So, objectively, it's always been hazy to be able to share why and how chiropractic is so beneficial and essential to supporting and enhancing health.

Now, after attending and participating in this seminar, I've been shown some great tools and skills to work on in order to present what I want people to hear.

Because one of my missions is to help transform the lives of people through better health.

It starts somewhere, and once I start, then it's one step at a time.

At one point in the seminar, the speaker showed us a clip from "The Fight Club". 

If you Google The Fight Club, there are so many discussions about its philosophy of life, from every corner of the mind.

(So many theories out there!)

Personally for me, the message from it gives me more clarity on what my purpose is.

What my mission is.

And why I do what I do.

There are many great (and kooky) quotes from that movie, and the speaker at the seminar presented that Fight Club scene at the perfect time.

It wrapped the whole point of the seminar all together.

Stay on your path. Don't lose your purpose. 

The way I see it, life is like walking on a tight rope with metal balls being swung at you to push you off.

And some of the balls are actually these small petty little ones.

Guess what?

Most of us let those little measly balls throw us off our path.

They are called EXCUSES.

And the big heavy metal balls are just big excuses.

Big excuses are our STORIES that we cling onto for life.

But we allow those excuses and stories to keep us off our game, out of control, and unfocused. 

The Tight Rope called Life.

Well, I've honed my tight rope skills, and by no means am I perfect balancer, or that I'm able to never slip off.

The difference is that I get right back on it.

Focused, determined, passionate.

So, recognise your excuses and stories.

You can let yourself fall off that rope. 

No big whoop.

But then quit your bitchin', stop feeling sorry for yourself, and get back on it!

Chiropractic adjustments might help you achieve that too!

See you soon!

With passion - Dr MaryAnne

When a backwards "e" is a major life crisis

When I think about my early childhood, bits and pieces of events float in and out of my memory. 

Surely they aren't accurate, and a lot of it has to do with the emotions involved, what I learned, and the 'story' around what I think happened.

Lately, my five year old has been enthusiastically learning her letters and words and spelling. 

I've been thoroughly impressed with how eager she is in reading and writing all by herself.

She's sounding out everything.

It's definitely not how I remember it when I was five. 

Then again, I don't even remember how it was when I first learned how to read and write.

Anyway, she loves writing notes to everyone. 

To me, to her father, her siblings, and also her friends.

The other day I told her that she was invited to one of her best friend's birthday party.

Ever since I told her, she's been obsessed with writing her a birthday card.

It's very sweet.

So this afternoon we went to the shop and picked out a card.

As soon as we got home, she immediately sat down and started to write, "Deer Susie."

(Name has been changed to protect anyone involved.)

Then the crisis hit.

As I helped her write her letters, just sounding them out with her, she asked me while motioning in the air with her finger, "Is the "e" like this way? Or this way?"

She's whisping her finger in the air trying to show me how to draw an "e" as if the paper was floating in front of her.

Then, in the card, she drew her lower-case 'e' for 'Susie'.

"There! Look mummy! Like this?"

Uh oh. It's fudking backwards.

Here it comes.

My little perfectionist Virgo female five-year-old starts having a conniption. 

Like it's the end of the world.

Like, there's no more opportunity to write another "e".


I'm trying really really hard not to laugh.

It's a frickin' "E" for crying out loud (literally!).

What the hell is wrong with her?

Oh, I know.

It's 6:00pm and she's exhausted.

And she's five.

So I hug her and hold her and tell her that practice is what she needs and that she has to learn from her mistakes.

Nope. Uh uh.

How the hell is a five-year-old perfectionist going to understand THAT?

She wasn't having it.

So I just held her. Caressing her face and her hair. Sitting as calmly and lovingly as possible.

The girl was totally done. Caput. Spent.

Long days at school will do that to an active girl!

Then after her wailing turned into quiet whimpers, I asked her, "Do you want an adjustment?"

Nod nod.

"Ok, let's get adjusted. Turn your power ON."

And she laid down on the adjusting table and I adjusted her.

Then, once the adjustment was finished, she hopped up, high-fived me, and had a sudden burst of energy!

It was like a switch turned on.

Oh boy. 

I know the adjustment was good for her, but as her mom who wanted some P&Q, the effect was opposite of what I had hoped.

I really wanted her to get conked out.

Nope. She just had a new zest for life.

Everything was peachy, and the whole backwards "e" problem - totally forgotten.

Life was AWESOME again.

And there we have it. 

Life of a 5-year-old.

One minute life sucks.

The next (after an adjustment), life is superb!

Whoo Hoo!

See you at YOUR next adjustment!

— Dr MaryAnne.