What the body needs after the bottle, said plainly. Not the supplement aisle. Not the wellness internet. The actual physiology, slow.

The lane

What this site is for, and what it is not.

This site is for the person who is out of the clinic, or never went to one, or is nearly six years on and still working out what the body needs without alcohol in it. It is the bridge between the four weeks of insiderehab.guide and the rest of life. It is where the discharge-letter line "follow up with your GP" becomes a conversation that has actually been had.

The site is built around what one person learned over six sober years about water, electrolytes, sleep, food, movement, sun, breath, and the slow work of the soft tissue that drinking dehydrated and stiffened. It is built on physiology where physiology is settled, on lived practice where it is not, and on the line between the two — said plainly.

What the site can do:

• Tell you what the first ninety days of the body's reset typically look like, in plain English, without supplement marketing
• Tell you what to ask your GP, when to ask them, and what the bloods are actually showing
• Tell you what one person has done, daily, for nearly six years — the water routine, the electrolyte routine, the sleep routine, the food routine, the movement routine, the body work — with the rationale, the limits, and the bits that are mine and may not be yours
• Carry the bot for the question that does not fit a general page

What the site will not do:

• Sell supplements, equipment, programmes, or protocols
• Tell you what to do with your body — your body is yours and your clinician's, not mine
• Replace your GP, your hepatologist, your psychiatrist, your physiotherapist, your dietitian, your sleep clinic, or any specialist your particular history requires
• Pretend the body has a single right answer; it does not

The maths nobody puts on the page

Ninety days. Six years. Roughly seven hundred and fifty hours of soft-tissue work over that time.

Some numbers, said plainly, from one person's nearly six years:

• Roughly two and a half litres of plain water a day, taken in cups not bottles — for nearly six years.
• Roughly four hundred milligrams of magnesium a day, in food and supplement, with a clinician's review of the dose every twelve months.
• Roughly seven and a half hours of sleep a night, on average, on a fixed wake-up — sometimes worse, occasionally better, never under six on purpose.
• Roughly fifteen thousand steps a day, average, with a daily floor of eight thousand even on the worst day.
• Roughly twenty minutes a day of soft-tissue work— the slow, deliberate practice of moving the connective tissue, the fascia, that drinking stiffened. Some days a foam roller. Some days a tennis ball. Some days hands. Said plainly: it is twenty minutes a day, every day, for nearly six years. That is roughly seven hundred and fifty hours, cumulative, on the body.
• Roughly thirty minutes of sun a day, deliberately, when the sun is available — Tenerife helps; the page says where this generalises and where it does not.
• Two GP consultations a year, minimum, with bloods at one of them.
• Zero alcohol units, daily, for more than two thousand one hundred consecutive days as of writing

Naming the numbers is not a programme. It is the order of magnitude of what the body needed, for one person, to feel like a body again. Your numbers will be your own. Your clinician will tell you which of these are wrong for your particular liver, kidneys, heart, or sleep.

The thing nobody sells

The body learns water in months, electrolytes in seasons, sleep in years, and the soft tissue last of all. The supplement aisle sells you the bottle. The thing the bottle does not contain is the time. There is no shortcut for the time. There is only what you do, daily, for the time it takes.

The supplement industry is built around the promise of speed. The recovery industry sells the four weeks as the work. Both are wrong about the body. The body recovers in the time it takes, on a clock the body sets, and the only thing that moves the clock faster is doing the small things daily. The big things — the cleanse, the protocol, the reset weekend — are theatre. The small things, repeated, are the practice.

The first ninety days — the obvious window

What the body is actually doing while it feels strange.

This section is where insiderehab.guide hands the reader over. The four weeks ended at the clinic door. The first ninety days continue at home. Discharge.guide carries the emotional and structural map of those days. This page carries the body.

What is happening physically, in plain English, during the ninety days after the last drink:

Days one to seven — the acute reset. If you are detoxing in a clinic the medication is doing the visible work; underneath it the body is restoring fluid balance, restarting normal kidney function, processing the long backlog of cellular waste, beginning to repair the gut lining that alcohol has spent years irritating. Bloods drawn now will show whatever they show. Do not catastrophise the first set. Get them in writing.

Days seven to twenty-eight — the sleep ladder. Sleep does not return on day one. It returns in stages. First, sleep that is too long and too shallow. Then sleep that is too short and broken. Then, somewhere around week three or four, sleep that is roughly normal but unfamiliar — because most adult drinkers have never been sober for a full month of sleep cycles. Do not panic at the early weeks. Keep a fixed wake-up time. The wake-up does the work.

Days twenty-eight to sixty — the appetite reset. Sweet cravings are normal early. They taper. Real hunger returns. So does the ability to taste — and a strange period where everything tastes too much. Eat protein with breakfast. Drink water before meals. Magnesium, B-complex, and thiamine continue from the discharge letter — see the GP section below.

Days sixty to ninety — the energy floor. Around day sixty most people notice the floor of energy is higher than it was. Not euphoria. Not "the pink cloud" of recovery folklore. A baseline that has stopped costing the day. This is the floor you build the next nine years on. Do not interpret it as the destination. The destination is not a feeling.

Days eighty to ninety — the bloods conversation. Most clinicians want a follow-up bloods set somewhere between week eight and week twelve. This is the set that confirms the gamma-GT and MCV trajectory, the liver function, the renal function, the lipids, and any other markers from your particular history. Book this before you leave the clinic; it is the appointment people skip and most regret skipping.

The page on insiderehab.guide carries the discharge letter checklist. This page carries what to do with the markers once you have them.

The medical handover, deeper

The conversation with your GP that the discharge letter cannot have for you.

The discharge letter is sent. The follow-up bloods are booked. The medication list is on the kitchen counter. The actual conversation with your GP is the thing that turns the paperwork into care. Said plainly:

The first appointment after discharge. Take the discharge letter. Take any continuing prescription. Take the list of things you want on the medical record. The plain-English script:

I have just completed a four-week residential admission for alcohol use. The discharge letter is here and a copy was sent to you. I would like the admission on my medical record. I am taking [list]. I would like to agree a follow-up cadence — I propose bloods at twelve weeks, then six-monthly for the first two years, then annual. I would like to discuss whether the pre-admission medication for [other condition] should be reviewed in light of this. I would also like to register a do-not-prescribe note for opiate-class medication except in genuine clinical need.

The script is polite, firm, and structured for a time-pressed appointment. The desk is not your GP's appointment. The script is. Print it if it helps. Take it in.

The bloods conversation, what you are actually looking for. The markers on a post-alcohol blood panel that matter most:

• Gamma-GT (γGT)— the liver enzyme most sensitive to alcohol. Falls quickly with abstinence; the trajectory matters more than any single number.
• MCV (mean corpuscular volume)— red-cell size, raised by chronic alcohol use, normalises slowly over months.
• ALT and AST— broader liver enzymes; reflect liver-cell injury and recovery.
• ALP and bilirubin— flagged here because they matter for liver and bile-duct function.
• U&Es (urea and electrolytes)— kidney function and the electrolyte picture; the body's water and salt balance.
• FBC (full blood count)— anaemia, platelets, and the red-cell picture more broadly.
• HbA1c— glycated haemoglobin, the three-month sugar picture; many drinkers come out with a metabolic profile worth tracking.
• Lipids— cholesterol, triglycerides; alcohol distorts both.
• Vitamin D, B12, folate, ferritin— the deficiency screen.
• Thyroid function— flagged because alcohol distorts it and the symptoms of post-alcohol fatigue and thyroid disease can overlap.
• Liver imaging— an ultrasound is sometimes the right next step depending on your history, your bloods, and your clinician's read. Ask.

The numbers are the GP's read, not the desk's. The bot will help you turn the printout into a question for the GP. It will not interpret the numbers for you. That line is bright and the bot stays behind it.

The aftercare conversation. The clinic's twelve weeks of follow-up groups are one strand. The GP can refer you to NHS specialist alcohol services for ongoing key-worker support, or to talking therapy through the local IAPT/Talking Therapies service. They are not the same as the clinic's aftercare and are not duplicative; both can run in parallel. Ask.

The mental-health overlap. Depression and anxiety are common in early sobriety, both as part of the brain's recalibration and as conditions that drinking was masking. If they are present, name them. Say so. The post-alcohol brain is not a failure of willpower. It is chemistry that needs reading.

Water, electrolytes, sleep, food — said plainly

The four foundations, said as one person practised them.

This section is the part of the page where the lived authority earns its keep, and where the page is most careful to name the limits. None of the below is a protocol. It is what one person has done, over nearly six years, with the rationale.

Water

• Plain water, in cups not bottles, two and a half litres a dayA glass on waking, before coffee. A glass before each meal. A glass between meals on the hour. The body that drank for years has been chronically under-hydrated; the cellular tissue, the joints, the skin, the soft tissue around the spine, the eyes, the gut — all of them have been working dry. They take months to rehydrate, and the water itself does the rehydrating, not the supplement.
• Bottled water is not better than tap water for this purpose, in the UK or in most of Europe. The exceptions are local water-quality issues you already know about. The supplement industry sells bottles. The body needs water.
• Caffeine and water are not opposites, but caffeine moves water through the body faster. If you are drinking three coffees, you are drinking three coffees plus a glass of water with each.
• Beer-shaped thirstThe first months after stopping, the thirst that used to be drink-shaped will sometimes still want a bottle in the hand. Plain sparkling water in a wine glass, with lemon, served by you to you, is not silly. It is signalling.

Electrolytes

• Magnesium firstChronic alcohol use depletes magnesium specifically; the deficiency is a known feature, and the symptoms — muscle cramps, restless legs, sleep disturbance, anxiety, palpitations — are all consistent with low magnesium. Most discharge letters specify a course; many GPs will continue it. Roughly four hundred milligrams a day is a typical dose; magnesium glycinate or citrate are common forms. Talk to your clinician.
• Sodium, potassium, calcium, chloride— the rest of the electrolyte picture is mostly handled by food, if you are eating reasonably and not on a low-sodium clinical diet. The expensive electrolyte powders sold to people in early sobriety are usually not what the body specifically needs; the food and the magnesium are.
• The morning electrolyte drinkA pinch of sea salt, a squeeze of lemon, a glass of water, on waking, in hot weather or after exercise. Plain. Cheap. Not a brand.

Sleep

• Fixed wake-up. The single most useful thing one person did over nearly six years was to get up at the same time every morning, including weekends, including bad nights. The body's clock — the circadian rhythm — is set by the wake-up, not the bedtime. Drinking dismantled the clock; the wake-up reassembles it.
• Light in the eyes within thirty minutes of waking. Daylight, ideally outside; a bright lamp if not. Ten minutes is enough. This is the strongest signal the brain receives that the day has started.
• No alcohol obviously, but also caution with substitutes. Cannabis and high-strength CBD will give you sleep that is not really sleep, in a way that can become habitual. Sleeping tablets prescribed for the short term should not, generally, be taken for the long term. Talk to the GP.
• The bedroom dark, cool, quiet. The sleep-hygiene basics actually work. Black-out blinds. Sixteen to eighteen degrees. A phone outside the room.
• The bad night. Bad nights happen and are not, by themselves, dangerous. One bad night does not require a corrective intervention. Two consecutive bad nights, or a pattern, is worth a sleep diary and, eventually, a GP conversation.

Food

• Protein at breakfast. The hunger architecture is more stable, across the day, when protein is the first food.
• Three meals a day, at consistent times. The body's blood sugar, hunger, and energy run better on a fixed schedule. Drinking blew the schedule apart; the schedule reassembles it.
• Sugar carefully. Cravings for sweet food are normal in the first months. Treat them as a body asking for energy, not as a moral failure. Fruit, dates, dark chocolate — handle the craving without putting in a daily refined-sugar habit that will be the next thing to dismantle.
• Coffee and tea, normally. Most people do not need to give up caffeine to recover from alcohol. Some do. The bot will help you find which is true for you.
• No supplement is a meal. Supplements work alongside food, not in place of it. The shake industry sells a lot of breakfasts that are not breakfasts.

The slow work — fascia, breath, sun, hands

Twenty minutes a day, every day, for nearly six years. One person's practice. The limits named.

This section is the part of the page that is most clearly mine and not yours, and the part that has earned its place because of how much of the recovery happened here, in a way no clinical handover predicted. Said plainly, with the limits named.

What this is. Twenty minutes a day, every day, of slow, deliberate work on the soft tissue of the body — the fascia, the muscles, the joints. Not a yoga class. Not a programme. A practice. A foam roller in the morning. A tennis ball against the wall in the late afternoon for the back of the shoulders. Hands, sometimes — fingers down the side of the spine, slowly, finding the held places. Self-massage of the calves and the soles of the feet. Slow neck rolls. The breath, deepening, while the work happens. Twenty minutes. Daily. For nearly six years.

Why this is on the page at all. Because over nearly six years it has done more for the body than any single intervention other than the abstinence itself. The shoulders that drinking pulled forward. The hips that drinking stiffened. The jaw that drinking clenched. The diaphragm that drinking shortened. The lower back that drinking dehydrated. All of it slowly let go, in small pieces, on the floor of a Tenerife flat, twenty minutes at a time. The change is not visible to other people. It is unmistakable from inside the body.

What this is not. It is not a protocol. It is not the James Method. It is not the James Protocol. It is not a course, an app, a programme, or a thing the desk sells. There is nothing to buy. The foam roller costs twenty pounds and lasts a decade. The tennis ball costs less. The hands are free. The desk's refusal to brand this is deliberate; the moment a daily practice becomes a Method it stops being a practice and becomes a product, and the cost of that one yes is permanent.

What the science says, plainly. Connective tissue — fascia — is more plastic than was understood until recently, and slow, sustained pressure on it does measurable things to its hydration, its glide, and its mobility. The clinical evidence base is real but partial; the practice runs ahead of the literature. A practising physiotherapist or a sports-medicine doctor is the person to ask whether this kind of work is right for your particular body. Conditions that change the answer include: any acute injury, any recent surgery, any blood-thinning medication, any vascular condition, certain skin conditions, certain rheumatological conditions, osteoporosis or low bone density (because sustained pressure on the wrong tissue is a different proposition for a thinner bone), peripheral neuropathy (which is common in long-term drinkers and which changes the body's pressure-sensing in ways that matter for self-applied work), pregnancy, and the period immediately after a procedure. If any of these apply, ask before you start. The bot will say so plainly.

What the page will not do. It will not say do this for ten minutes a day and you will feel like I do. It will say: this is one person's practice. The body is yours. The practice that fits your body is yours to find. A physiotherapist who knows your body is the partner for this, not the desk.

The encyclopedia carries a longer page on what a session looks like, with the limits repeated, and the bot will walk you through the questions to ask a physiotherapist before you start.

Sun, breath, movement

The three things the body needs daily that nobody charges for.

Sun. Thirty minutes a day, when available. Skin and eyes both. Not midday in summer; morning ideally, evening if not. Vitamin D status matters more than most people realise. The deficiency is common in northern Europe generally and in people who drank for years specifically, because chronic alcohol interferes with vitamin D metabolism in the liver. Test it. Supplement if your level is low and your clinician agrees. Sunlight first; supplement only as the gap-filler. The sunlight does things a tablet cannot — it sets the circadian clock, it lifts mood through pathways the tablet does not touch, and it costs nothing.

Breath. Five minutes a day of slow nasal breathing, deliberately. Four seconds in, six seconds out, through the nose. The diaphragm — which years of drinking shortened — wakes up. The nervous system steadies. Heart-rate variability improves over weeks. The cost is zero. The benefit is cumulative. Sit in a chair, eyes open or closed, hand on the belly to feel it move. That is the practice. There is no app required. The bot will walk you through the longer version if you want it; the encyclopedia carries it free.

Movement. Walking is the most under-rated treatment in alcohol recovery. Eight thousand steps as a daily floor, fifteen thousand as a target. Walking outside if available, walking inside if not. A run is a run. A swim is a swim. Both help. Walking helps most reliably, costs least, and is most sustainable across years — and across the post-alcohol body, which is often deconditioned, sometimes injured from years of drinking, and rarely served well by a sudden return to the gym in week six. Build slowly. The body will tell you when it is ready for more.

None of these three is on the discharge letter. All three matter for the next forty years.

What this site will refuse — the asymmetric stakes list

There are some things a desk that takes the body seriously must refuse, no matter what is offered, because the cost of doing them once is permanent.

• No supplement sales, ever. No affiliate links. No discount codes. No partnerships with brands. If a supplement is named on the encyclopedia, it is named generically (the compound, not the brand) and it is named because the evidence puts it there.
• No lifestyle-brand partnerships. No yoga studio referral. No retreat. No coach. No programme. No app. No platform. No "wellness" arrangement of any kind.
• No medical claims. This page does not treat anything. The body that needs medical care needs medical care. The desk is a companion, not a clinician.
• No body-shaming. The body that drank for years carries what it carries. The page does not promise change. The page describes practice.
• No before/after content. No photographs. No metrics aestheticised. No leaderboards. The body is not content.
• No exploitation of the moment. The £49 bot does not get pushed at someone who has just typed "I am hungover and I want to feel better fast." The free encyclopedia does, with the urgent things — water, salt, sleep, A&E if symptoms warrant — and the bot waits.
• No commission for any clinical, fitness, or food referral. Not for a physiotherapist. Not for a hepatologist. Not for a dietitian. Not for a sleep clinic.
• No turning the body into a brand. There is no James Method, no James Protocol, no James Reset. There is one person's practice, said plainly, with the limits named. The desk does not become a guru.

Each of those is a no that costs the desk money. That is the point.

The Refusals Ledger — cross-link

The Refusals Ledger is a single source of truth and lives on transparency.guide. Every commercial offer the desk has refused — across all sites — is logged there in the half-yearly Transparency Post, with the type of offer, the type of party, and what was at stake. A supplement company offering a partnership belongs in that ledger. So does a clinic offering a referral fee for physiotherapy. So does a lifestyle brand offering a discount code arrangement. There is no separate Refusals Ledger on this page. One ledger per fact. Cleaner audit. The first Transparency Post is dated June 2026.

How the site works

The encyclopedia free. The bot, forty-nine pounds, paid once.

The encyclopedia covers water, electrolytes, sleep, food, movement, the body work, the GP conversation, the bloods read, the first ninety days, the first ninety months. Free. No supplement affiliates. No referral fees. No upsells.

The bot is for the question that does not fit a general page. I am six weeks out and my sleep is still terrible — what do I tell the GP? My discharge letter says thiamine for six months and I cannot tolerate the tablets. My partner is sober four months and the cravings for sugar have not stopped. I want to start running and I do not know how to do it without doing too much. My bloods came back and the GP did not really explain them. Forty-nine pounds, paid once, used for as long as you need it.

It speaks plainly. It speaks Spanish if you write in Spanish. It holds context across weeks. It picks up where you left off. It knows its limits. It is a companion, not a clinician. If a question crosses into clinical territory it stops being clever and routes you to the GP, the duty doctor, NHS 111, or A&E. Crisis routing is never paywalled.

No subscription. No account. No login. The unlock lives in your browser. The encyclopedia is always free. Crisis routes are always free.

No higher tiers on this page at launch. If demand makes a structured brief honest later — for occupational health, for HR, for family solicitors briefing a client on the post-residential picture — the Transparency Post will name the moment. Not before.

Who James is — the lived authority and its limit

James Roberts. Fifty. Sober since June 2020 after a four-week residential at a UK clinic. Tenerife — the chair I work from. Six years of daily practice on water, electrolytes, sleep, food, movement, sun, breath, and the slow soft-tissue work. Two GP consultations a year, with bloods at one of them, since discharge. Zero alcohol units, daily, for more than two thousand one hundred consecutive days as of writing.

The lived authority is one person's body, in one place, with one history. That is real, and it is also a limit:

• I am a man, in my fifties, white, English-speaking, of broadly European ancestry. The body of a woman, of a person of colour, of a person from a different climate or a different diet, will not respond identically to the same practice.
• I came out of detox without a co-occurring serious mental illness, without a complex polysubstance picture, without a pre-existing chronic disease that constrains exercise or diet. Any of those changes the picture materially. The page says so where it matters.
• I live in a sub-tropical climate with year-round sun. The sun part of the page generalises with effort and qualifies for any reader north of about fifty degrees latitude. The encyclopedia carries the alternatives.
• I have the means, the time, and the schedule to do twenty minutes of body work a day. Not everyone does. The page names where the practice scales down honestly and where it does not.
• I am not a clinician. The lived authority earns the page where it earns it, and stops where it stops. The clinician is the partner for the body. The desk is a companion for the practice.

The bias is named. The lived authority earns its space. The page steps back where the clinician steps in.

Who this site is for

• The person home from rehab, looking at the discharge letter, not knowing what the markers mean
• The person who never went to rehab and stopped drinking on their own and is six weeks in and feels strange
• The person who has been sober for years and is still working out what the body needs
• The partner of a sober person, trying to understand why the food, the sleep, the energy, the sex drive are different
• The GP who has a patient between assessment and admission and wants a page they can recommend
• The HR director or occupational health adviser thinking about return-to-work conditions
• The reader who has never had a drink problem but loved someone who did and wants the body's version of the story
• The reader on day five out of detox, looking up "how long until I sleep" at three in the morning

The encyclopedia does not care where you are starting. The bot does not either.

What this site will not do

• Sell supplements, equipment, programmes, or protocols
• Tell you what to do with your body
• Replace any clinician
• Pretend the body has a single right answer
• Pretend my body is yours
• Promise dramatic change, peak performance, or anything ending in -ness
• Become a brand, a method, a course, or a movement
• Pretend the science is settled where it is not — fascia, the gut microbiome, long-term post-alcohol nutrition all have evolving evidence bases. The page names where the cautious read sits.

The other doors

Same James. Different rooms in the same house.

This site is the body pillar. It is the page every other site footers to for the medical handover and the years that follow.

sober.guide

For the drinker, the family, the friend, the GP, the boss. The moment of deciding what to do.

partner.guide

For the person at home. The bottles, the argument, the question of whether to leave.

theirdrinking.guide

For the people on the outside making decisions on incomplete information. The procurement page — clinic costs, contracts, regulator inspections.

lovedone.guide

For anyone who loves a drinker but does not share their kitchen.

insiderehab.guide

For what the four weeks actually look like, hour by hour, day by day. The medical handover starts there and lands here.

discharge.guide

For the day after rehab. The first ninety days, in structure and feeling.

relapse.guide

For the night it started again. Plain. Kind. Useful. No lecture.

transparency.guide

For how the desk works. Where the money goes. The Refusals Ledger. The AI Ledger. The audit.

legalities.guide

For the legal questions — capacity, disclosure, employment, family law, data protection. The Clarification Ledger.

Forty-nine pounds, paid once, gets you James. Same person. Same standards. Independent of every rehab, in both directions. No referral fees, ever.

Start here

Pick the door that fits today.

• Just out of detox → The first ninety days
• Got the discharge letter in your hand → The medical handover, deeper
• Bloods backand you do not understand them → The bloods conversation
• Sleepis the thing you cannot crack → Sleep, said plainly
• Hungryall the time, then not at all → Food, said plainly
• Ready to try the body work → The slow work
• Want the routine in one place → The maths nobody puts on the page
• Specific to your situation→ The bot, £49 once
• In crisis right now→ Crisis routes — never paywalled

If today is dangerous.

UK: 999 for immediate danger.

If you are detoxing at home and frightened: alcohol withdrawal can be medically serious. Symptoms that warrant emergency care include severe shaking, hallucinations, seizures, severe sweating, racing heart, confusion, fever. Contact your GP, NHS 111, or A&E. Do not attempt an unsupported home detox if you have been drinking heavily for a long time.

If you are post-discharge and a marker on your blood test alarms you: call the GP. If symptoms are severe — yellow skin or eyes, severe abdominal pain, vomiting blood, black stools, severe breathlessness, chest pain, confusion — go to A&E.

Samaritans: 116 123 — free, twenty-four hours, they pick up.

Spain: 112 for immediate danger. 024 — national suicide and emotional-distress helpline, free, twenty-four hours, Spanish and English. Teléfono de la Esperanza: 717 003 717 — free, twenty-four hours.

Domestic violence support: National Domestic Abuse Helpline 0808 2000 247 — free, twenty-four hours, confidential.

The bot will surface these plainly when needed and stop being clever. Crisis routing is never paywalled.

"The body is the part of the recovery that does not announce itself. There is no twenty-eight-day milestone for the soft tissue, no graduation ceremony for the sleep, no certificate for the second year of normal bloods. The body just gets quietly better, in pieces, in the time it takes, while you do small things daily. This page is a description of the daily small things, by one person who has done them for more than two thousand one hundred consecutive days. The rest is between you and your body and the clinician who knows it." — James, Tenerife, May 2026

Last updated: May 2026 Operated by: James Roberts. Sole trader. Registered details on legalities.guide. Not medical advice. The post-alcohol body is a clinical body. Anything on this page that intersects with your medication, your diagnosis, or your particular history belongs with a clinician who knows you. Lived authority, not protocol. This is one person's practice, named, dated, with the limits acknowledged. It is not a programme.