My Story

Hi, I’m Dr. Michele French.

I’ve had a pretty crazy life so far.

When I was a kid, someone I loved got into a car accident. They were prescribed painkillers, and that prescription changed everything—for them, for my family, and for me.

I grew up watching addiction take over this person I cared about. I remember them nodding off while driving, barely able to stand at school events, completely disconnected. It was painful. Confusing. Scary. And I made myself a promise back then: no matter what, I would never become addicted to painkillers. Ever.

When I turned 19, I joined the Army as an enlisted MP. I didn’t have a plan—I just knew I needed something different. My first duty station was Camp Carroll in South Korea. After some intense training, my unit deployed to Baghdad in 2006.

That deployment was rough. A lot of the time, I was pulling rooftop security or stuck in a truck guarding gates. It was high-stress, high-alert, and full of uncertainty. I ended up with a traumatic brain injury, whiplash, and more trauma than any 20-year-old should ever have to carry.

Our brigade got relocated to Oahu, Hawaii, which was beautiful—but also weird. It felt like I’d been dropped into paradise after 15 months in hell. I didn’t love working patrol, so in 2008, I volunteered for another deployment—this time as personal security for a 4-star General. He was a big runner. Six miles a day, every day, usually faster than I could keep up with. But I pushed through, even when it felt like my hips were being ground to dust.

After that deployment, I re-enlisted and moved to Alaska. And that’s when everything started to catch up with me.

I got pregnant with my daughter, and the pain in my low back became unbearable—like nothing I’d ever experienced. Someone suggested I see a chiropractor. I went, got adjusted… and honestly, I didn’t feel a huge difference.

It wasn’t some magical fix. But for whatever reason, it stuck with me.

I didn’t go back—
but knowing what I know now?
I would have.

After leaving the military, I felt totally lost. I had no idea what I wanted to do, and on top of that, I was dealing with symptoms from the TBI, chronic pain, PTSD, a high conflict custody battle, and so much more. I couldn’t handle loud noises or bright lights. Everything felt overwhelming.

The VA offered me one thing: medication.

Pain meds. Antidepressants. Sleep aids. Mood stabilizers. Pill after pill.
But I remembered what I’d seen growing up. I knew that wasn’t going to work for me.

So I decided to live with the pain. And I did—for a while.

Eventually, I became an esthetician. I thought maybe a spa setting would be peaceful enough for my nervous system. While I was in that world, people kept complimenting my massage skills. I decided to keep going and enrolled in an advanced neuromuscular massage therapy program.

That’s when things started to shift.

I began working for chiropractors and started getting adjusted regularly. The pain started to lift—not just in my back, but everywhere. I began noticing things that I didn’t expect to change.

My migraines became less intense and less frequent.
My sensitivity to light and sound improved.
My menstrual cycle regulated.
My mood became more stable.
My thinking became clearer.

For the first time in my adult life, I felt like my nervous system was starting to come out of fight-or-flight mode. It was like I had been holding my breath for years—and now, I could finally exhale.

That’s when I realized: chiropractic hadn’t just helped me. It had changed me.

During my time in massage therapy school, I had visited Life West Chiropractic College and attended a cadaver lab there. I fell in love with the school. I knew that’s what I wanted to do… but coming from where I came from, the idea of becoming a doctor felt impossible.

I kept working for chiropractors. I kept learning. I also completed multiple certifications through NASM. I even started my own mobile massage and personal training business in the Bay Area. But when custody issues were starting to become too much for me, I moved to Arizona so we could all be closer together. Shortly after, my daughters father moved up to Alaska and I gained full custody.

While I was working at a chiropractic office in Arizona, I got into a car accident. After that, I couldn’t physically work on people for more than an hour. And that’s when it hit me: it was time.

I knew I had to become a chiropractor. No more waiting. No more doubting. No more pushing it off.

I enrolled in a Bachelor of Science program in Sports and Health Medicine. I moved my daughter and myself to Portland to finish it (and so she could be closer to dad). Around that time, the VA approved my disability rating, and I found myself at a crossroads.

I could stop right there and live off that income. Or I could keep going.

I remember going to lunch with my daughter outside the chiropractic school. We sat there, eating, just taking it in. And I got on my knees and prayed:

“God, if this is what You want me to do, I need You to make it happen. If not, then let us go home.”

Shortly after, I was accepted into the Vocational Rehabilitation program. And that was the start of everything.

Now I live in Arizona with my daughter and my grandma. I have an amazing partner, and he has three awesome kids up in Oregon.

The end goal?
To grow my mobile chiropractic practice in both places—Arizona and Oregon—so I can go back and forth, spend time with the people I love, and maybe avoid the worst parts of both winters and summers while I’m at it.

This journey hasn’t been easy. But it’s been worth it.

I’m not just a chiropractor.
I’m someone who’s lived through pain, trauma, and a broken system—and found a better way.

And now, I bring that same hope to every person I serve.

This isn’t just my job.
It’s my calling.