Your Competitor Isn't Your Enemy: What ten years in practice taught me about differentiation, trust, and why tearing down other chiropractors never works

Dr. Lucas Marchand
2 minutes ago
5 min read

Lucas Marchand, DC 1/15/26

A chiropractor sitting quietly in their office or treatment room, looking contemplative—maybe near a window with natural light, conveying that reflective, "thinking back on my career" mood

There's a moment I remember from my first year into practice. I was at a community health fair, standing at my booth between a physical therapist and a massage therapist, when another chiropractor—someone I'd never met—walked by and made a comment loud enough for the nearby crowd to hear: "Well, at least some of us actually adjust the way Palmer intended."

I felt my face flush. Not because I was hurt, exactly, but because I recognized something in his tone. I'd heard it before. Hell, I'd used it before (Not the Palmer quote, I went to NWHSU but the arrogance of thinking I was better at adjusting than someone else is a real feeling).

It was the sound of someone who needed you to be wrong so he could be right.

I don't remember what I said back, probably something diplomatic and forgettable. But I remember what I thought: This guy is scared. Scared there aren't enough patients. Scared his technique won't hold up. Scared that if people trust someone else's approach, they won't trust his.

And the uncomfortable part: I'd been that guy too.

The Differentiation Trap

When you're new in practice, differentiation feels urgent. You're drowning in student loans, your schedule has gaps you could drive a truck through, and every other chiropractor in town feels like a threat. So you look for an edge. And the easiest edge—the one that feels righteous and educational—is to explain why everyone else is doing it wrong.

Maybe it's their technique. Maybe it's their philosophy. Maybe it's that they take insurance, or don't take insurance, or use too much marketing, or not enough.

The specifics don't matter. What matters is the underlying logic: If I can show patients why those other chiropractors are misguided, they'll see that I'm the right choice.

Except that's not how trust works.

I learned this the hard way. Early on, I spent a lot of energy positioning myself against other approaches. I wasn't overtly hostile—I framed it as "education"—but the subtext was clear. I wanted patients to know that my way was evidence-based, principled, effective. Which implied, of course, that other ways were not.

And you know what happened? Not much.

The patients who already agreed with me nodded along. The ones who didn't just felt uncomfortable. And the ones who were genuinely undecided—the ones I most wanted to reach—seemed to pull back slightly, as if sensing that this wasn't really about their care. It was about my need to be validated.

What Patients Actually Respond To

About three years in, I had a patient—let's call her Susan—who'd been seeing another chiropractor for years before she came to me. She needed evening appointments, which her previous chiropractor didn't offer, and my mobile model worked better for her schedule.

One day, she mentioned her old chiropractor during a session. I braced myself, expecting her to criticize his technique or explain why she'd "upgraded." Instead, she said: "He was great. I just needed something more convenient."

That was it. No referendum on philosophy. No comparison of methods. She simply had a need, and I happened to meet it.

It was humbling. And clarifying.

Patients don't choose care based on who you criticize. They choose based on clarity, trust, and whether what you offer fits their lives. Susan didn't need me to be better than her previous chiropractor. She needed me to be available when she got home from work. Sometimes the best ability is availability.

That's differentiation. Not opposition. Just difference.

The Scarcity Signal

Here's what I've come to believe: When you tear down other practitioners—chiropractors, PTs, MDs, anyone—you're almost always broadcasting scarcity. You're saying, "There aren't enough patients for all of us, so I need to take them from you."

But the truth is, there are plenty of patients. Most of them are just looking for someone they feel safe with. Someone who listens. Someone who doesn't make healthcare feel like a loyalty test.

The thing is though, is that patients pick up on this even when criticism is dressed up as education: If you sound bitter, defensive, or preachy, they start to wonder whether this is really about their health—or about your ego.

Confidence doesn't need a villain.

What Actually Differentiates You

Ten years in, I can tell you what sets practices apart, and it's rarely technique. It's logistics. Communication. Experience. Pricing. Patient experience. The feeling someone gets when they walk in your door or, in my case, when you walk in theirs.

With MyChiro, mobility is a legitimate differentiator. I don't need to explain why other chiropractors are "doing it wrong" by having an office. I just need to explain why coming to someone's home or workplace might work better for their life.

That's enough.

Your edge might be your hours. Your bedside manner. Your willingness to spend thirty minutes instead of five. The way you explain things without jargon. The fact that you remember people's kids' names.

These things matter more than you think. And they don't require tearing anyone else down.

The Long Game

Chiropractors or healthcare providers talking collegially at a conference or networking event

There's also a practical reason to avoid the criticism game: it caps your growth.

Mature practices get referrals from other providers. I've received patients from physical therapists, family doctors, the emergency room, even other chiropractors whose schedules were full or whose approach didn't fit a particular patient's needs. That doesn't happen if you're known as the person who trashes everyone else.

Your reputation in a community compounds over time. You can be the chiropractor other providers actively refer to, or you can be the one they'd rather not mention because working with you feels contentious.. It's your choice, but one path is a lot more sustainable than the other.

What We Owe the Profession

I'll be honest: the public already has mixed feelings about chiropractic. Some of that is unfair. Some of it we've earned.

But here's what doesn't help: chiropractors attacking each other publicly. It reinforces every stereotype about our profession being fractured, ideological, unscientific, ego-driven.

When we show up with calm confidence—when we focus on what we do offer rather than what others don't—we quietly elevate the whole field. We signal that we're healthcare providers, not salespeople. That we're secure enough in our value that we don't need to diminish anyone else's.

The Shift

If I had to sum up what I've learned, it's this: Early-career chiropractors try to win arguments. Seasoned chiropractors try to build trust.

That doesn't mean you can't have strong opinions. It doesn't mean you never disagree with colleagues. It just means you recognize that your job isn't to be right in some abstract, ideological sense. Your job is to help the person in front of you.

And most of the time, that person doesn't need you to have an enemy. They just need you to show up, listen, and care.

I think about that health fair sometimes—the chiropractor who felt the need to take a shot at someone else's technique in front of a crowd. I wonder if he ever figured out what I eventually did: that the patients walking by weren't impressed by his certainty.

They were just uncomfortable.

And they kept walking.

Have a wonderful week,

Lucas