How Our Treatments Create Deep Rooted Healing

There was a time in my life when everything looked fine on the outside, but inside, my body was shutting down. I was showing up, working hard, taking care of others, pushing through the day like we’re told we’re supposed to—but I was constantly sick, foggy, and aching. I wasn’t absorbing food properly, I was constantly tired, and my body felt like a mystery I couldn’t solve. Doctors kept handing me scripts, shrugging off my symptoms, or telling me that maybe I just had depression. That I needed to accept this as my new normal. But something in me knew—this wasn’t living. It was surviving. And I wanted more than that. I wanted to heal.

That’s where my journey really began. Not just with a green smoothie or a yoga mat, but with a deep, personal reckoning. I needed to come back home to my body. To start listening, not overriding. What changed everything for me was the day I found colonics and infrared sauna. I still remember walking out of my first session thinking, “Why don’t more people know about this?” For the first time in years, I felt clear. I could think. My body didn’t feel like a battleground anymore. It felt like mine again.

I’ve learned through personal experience—and now, years of walking this path with others—that the body is always trying to heal. It just needs the right conditions. We’re not broken. We’re not lazy. We’re not beyond repair. We’re just often disconnected from the signals our body is sending us. And those signals? They’re sacred. They’re wise. They’re our body’s way of trying to get our attention before the whispers become screams.

At Wellness @ Wilston, when someone walks in for colon hydrotherapy, they’re usually holding more than just digestive issues. They’re holding years of stress, shame, unresolved trauma, or simply the weight of always putting themselves last. Colonics are about more than flushing waste. They create space—physically, yes, but also emotionally. I’ve had people cry in sessions, not from pain, but from the release of finally being able to let go. To not carry everything anymore. It’s the beginning of a new relationship with yourself. One where you’re no longer ignoring the signs. One where you’re honouring your body as a partner in your healing.

The infrared sauna brings in something different—gentle heat that doesn’t just warm your skin, but sinks into your bones. It was a ritual I knew as a child from our weekly Banya, where Grandma would scrub us down, fan us with oak branches, and then feed us warm soup. I remember sleeping so peacefully on those nights. The body remembers safety, even decades later. Today, I watch clients find that same peace in the sauna. The heat helps them sweat out what’s stagnant. But more than that, it offers stillness. In that quiet warmth, there’s a softening that happens. The nervous system sighs. The mind quiets. The healing deepens.

Cryotherapy brings in a different kind of medicine—the sharpness of the cold, the way it makes you feel more alive than anything else. When I step into that chamber, I’m reminded of every challenge I’ve faced. Every time I thought I couldn’t do something—and then I did. Cryo is a reset. It shocks the system in the most beautiful way. It brings oxygen, endorphins, and a deep, cellular level of energy back online. Clients tell me they feel euphoric after. Clear. Light. Reconnected.

When these therapies are used together—not as a quick fix, but as a rhythm—they create a space where the body can finally exhale. Colonics open the channel, sauna supports the release, and cryo wakes up what’s been sleeping. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about showing up for yourself, over and over again. It’s about giving your body the care, the space, and the respect it deserves. For some people, this work is about healing chronic illness. For others, it’s about preventing it. For many, it’s simply about finally feeling good in their own skin again.

I see this every day in our clinic. People who walked in disconnected, ashamed, unsure—who begin to soften. Who start laughing more. Sleeping better. Eating with intention. Trusting their gut, in every sense of the word. Healing doesn’t always look like we think it will. Sometimes it looks like sitting quietly after a colonic, hand on your belly, whispering “thank you.” Sometimes it looks like crying in a sauna because you finally feel safe enough to feel. Sometimes it looks like standing in a cryo chamber, thinking, “I didn’t think I could do this,” and walking out with your head high.

This is the work we do. It’s not flashy. It’s not always pretty. But it’s real. It’s sacred. It’s yours. And if you’re reading this and your body is whispering to you, just like mine once did—maybe this is your invitation. To listen. To begin. And to let yourself be deeply, beautifully well.