Ava Heartwell

I thought ERMI and HERTSMI-2 were interchangeable. Learning how they’re used differently helped me stop expecting one test to answer every question.

I didn’t experience fullness as eating too much or bloating. It felt more subtle — a sense that my body was already occupied, like there wasn’t much room left for anything new.

I assumed ERMI testing was always the next right step. What I learned was that timing and context mattered more than I realized.

I didn’t experience congestion as a cold or infection. It felt more like fullness — a sense that something in my body wasn’t moving freely, even though I wasn’t technically ill.

I believed remediation meant the story was over. The ERMI test showed me that environments remember longer than we expect.

I didn’t notice tightness as pain or injury. It felt more like restriction — a sense that my body couldn’t fully expand or relax in certain indoor spaces, even when nothing was visibly wrong.

I thought reading my ERMI report would bring relief. Instead, I froze—because no one had explained how the numbers were meant to be understood.

I didn’t experience heaviness as exhaustion or sadness. It felt more physical than that — a quiet sense of weight in my body that showed up indoors and lifted when I left.

When I saw my ERMI score, my nervous system treated it like a verdict. What I eventually learned was that ERMI numbers don’t mean what most of us think they do.

I didn’t experience pressure as pain or tightness at first. It felt more like compression — a subtle sense that the space around me was pressing in, even though nothing was visibly wrong.