The "Al Dente" Core

Uncooked pasta. It sits in boiling water for quite some time, seemingly soft enough to eat. Yet once you take a bite, you realize the core remains hard and unchanged. Aiming for that ideal al dente texture, we often underestimate how much time it actually takes to cook through.

Over the past few days, I realized this is exactly what has been happening to me. I thought my healing was going well—with ups and downs, of course. But that was only on the surface. Beneath it, my muscles and nerves were still tightened in response to the stress and anxiety I had been carrying. Deep down, my internal systems had not yet registered that I was in a safe place.

This realization came through using an online neuroacoustic aid often used by people suffering from PTSD, Complex PTSD, depression, and trauma. I came across it in a peer support community, recommended by others who share

d their testimonies. While taking psychiatric medication, I felt that an additional approach was needed to help me step back into the environment where I had suffered. So, I decided to give it a try.

As instructed, I lay in bed with headphones and an eye mask on, listening to the track. When it started, I was hyper-focused, trying not to miss any change in my body. Eventually, I began to relax, just by being aware. The next thing I knew, to my surprise, I was waking up from a deep nap. I hadn't even noticed the beep that was supposed to sound at the end of the session.

Waking up, my brain functioned more sharply, and my body felt lighter. Then came the realization: my brain hadn't been functioning the way it was supposed to, and my body had been carrying an immense weight. This is a symptom we easily overlook, just as I certainly did, because the heaviness accumulates over time rather than through an acute crisis. It had been distorting my life without me even realizing it. How cruel it is that we grow accustomed to carrying that weight.

On another note, through my suffering, I learned how fortunate I have been to access counseling, effective online modalities, and remedies outside a prescription pad. For me, a Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) was not sufficient on its own to sustain life as a medical student. I am functioning and surviving in the middle of my final year of medical school because of these complementary tools, as well as the support of genuine human connection. Had I not had access to those options, where would I be today? I don't even want to imagine it, yet I know so many peers are forced into exactly that situation because of barriers to care, the financial cost, and our own internalized bias that prioritizes pharmaceuticals and surgery above everything else, which we have somehow strengthened while preparing to become physicians.