What I Wish I’d Known About Gut Health When I Was a New Practitioner
I remember the first time I saw a complex gut case in clinic. The kind where nothing quite fits. A client with decades of digestive symptoms, a long list of foods she was afraid to eat, and test results that didn’t line up with what she was experiencing. I did what most of us do when we’re new: I reached for a protocol. I tightened the dietary advice. I gave supplements that had worked for someone else. I followed the steps.
And she didn’t get better.
Not right away.
Not in the way I expected.
I went home that evening with a heavy kind of doubt. Not about her, but about myself.
I thought, maybe I missed something.
Or worse, maybe I’m not cut out for this.
Looking back now, with more than 18 years of practice behind me, I know how common that feeling is, especially when you’re working in the gut health space.
I also know now what I wish I’d known then.
1. SIBO is not a diagnosis. It’s a clue.
In the early days, I treated SIBO like a fixed endpoint. A breath test would come back positive, and I’d jump into a structured plan: antimicrobials, prokinetics, maybe a low FODMAP diet. And sometimes that worked.
But more often, I’d see improvement, then relapse. Or worse, clients would become more restricted, more sensitive, more afraid.
What I didn’t yet understand was that SIBO is a pattern, not a root cause. It can point us toward deeper imbalances — nervous system dysregulation, impaired motility, past infections, trauma, undernourishment.
Now, I approach SIBO more like a breadcrumb trail than a label. It tells us something is off. Our job is to stay curious about what that is, and what the body needs to recover capacity. Not just what we can kill.
2. People need partnership, not perfect answers.
Early on, I thought my job was to be the expert. To have the clearest plan, the right herbs, the test interpretation that made everything make sense. I didn’t yet understand that most clients didn’t come to me for a protocol. They came for partnership.
They came because they were tired. Tired of being dismissed, of piecing their health together from fragments of advice, of trying to heal in systems that didn’t feel safe.
What helps, I’ve learned, isn’t a perfect solution. It’s a practitioner who can hold the uncertainty with them. Who can offer grounded support without rushing the process. Who can explain things clearly, and adapt when things don’t go as planned.
Being a good clinician isn’t about always being right. It’s about being real, present, and willing to walk the longer road.
3. You don’t have to prove your worth through complexity.
There was a time when I thought being a serious practitioner meant treating the trickiest cases. The rarer the diagnosis, the more complicated the test, the more supplements on the protocol, the more I believed I was doing it right.
I’ve since learned that clinical depth does not mean complexity for complexity’s sake. Some of the most profound healing comes from simple, well-sequenced, well-timed care. A fibre intervention. A consistent sleep pattern. A reduction in overwhelm.
You don’t need to chase difficult cases to be a skilled practitioner. You just need to meet the person in front of you with integrity, insight, and attention. That’s enough. Truly.
4. Your nervous system matters too.
The more I worked with gut health, the more I saw how deeply it was affected by stress, pace, and depletion. Not just in clients, but in me.
I started to notice that when I was overbooked, tired, and trying to hold too much, I missed things. I rushed. I defaulted to plans instead of presence.
So I changed how I worked. Fewer clients. More space between sessions. Slower, deeper care. It was uncomfortable at first. It felt like I wasn’t doing enough. But that shift is what allowed me to show up fully again.
Your own rhythm matters. You can’t support restoration in others if you’re burning yourself out trying to keep up.
5. Mentorship isn’t a luxury. It’s oxygen.
There were so many times in those early years when I sat alone in front of a confusing case, unsure of what to do next. And I stayed silent. I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know enough. I didn’t want to bother someone more experienced. I didn’t want to feel exposed.
One of the greatest gifts I received early in my career was the mentorship of clinicians like Dr Hawrelak and the team at Gould’s. That kind of case‑by‑case guidance taught me how to meet patients exactly where they are and feel confident with whatever came through the door. It showed me that being a clinician is not about having all the answers but about learning what questions to ask.
Now I know that mentorship is not a sign of failure. It keeps us learning. It helps us become safer, more confident practitioners. It stops us from feeling alone.
Every practitioner deserves a space where they can bring questions, talk through doubts, and refine their thinking not just in theory but in practice.
It was this gift that inspired me to create the SIBO & Microbiome Mentorship Series. I wish I had this style of mentoring right after qualifying. This series is not a course with all the answers but a place to think things through together.
A note to newer practitioners
If you're early in your career and feeling uncertain, I see you. If you’re trying to translate theory into practice, and feeling like you’re not getting it right, I’ve been there.
You’re not alone.
The gut is complex. The body is wise. And you’re learning how to listen. That’s more than enough. Keep going, and know that clinical skill isn’t just about what you know. It’s about how you show up.
And if you ever need someone to sit with the complexity alongside you, I’m here.
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