Dysautonomia of the Mind

With mental health issues becoming more and more common and concerning, how the mind functions requires our fullest attention. 

Just as your heart beats without you and your lungs pull air on their own, though you can take control of your breathing as you wish, your brain is always producing thought whether you are consciously thinking or not. 

Your dreams don’t feel like you thought them up because you didn’t — your brain was thinking on its own. Your brain is a shark, swimming for a living; in sensory deprivation the brain quickly creates hallucinations in order to continue to experience stimulation where none exists. Your brain is always thinking in the background, even if you cannot perceive those thoughts. 

What your brain thinks all on its own is undoubtedly crucial to understanding one’s mental health. But how do we learn to hear our brain’s automatic thoughts, or at least shift them in the right direction?

Dysautonomia, a physical condition affecting the things your body is supposed to do on its own, such as breathing, digesting, and maintaining blood pressure, has been found to be linked to several mental health conditions, such as autism and ADHD. I myself happen to have dysautonomia and ADHD with suspected autism. It occurs to me that perhaps some symptoms of mental health problems are in fact a kind of dysautonomia of the mind. When you are depressed or anxious, your brain appears to be producing negative thoughts on its own, without being caused by outside circumstances. Could this model of thought and mental health be the key to finding new modalities of healing? I think it’s worth looking into. 

Gratitude

I have been taking a corticosteriod for about 10 days now, and can say with certainty that my life has changed. I went from not being able to stand up for more than three minutes without feeling sick and eventually being in danger of fainting to being able to stand and have a conversation for an hour with absolutely no symptoms. Suddenly I can do just about anything, and my energy level is fabulous. A mental fog as lifted along with the physical improvements too. It makes me want to do more, and see what I can do!

I’ve been dealing with this condition worsening all my life, and now I am feeling better than I ever thought I could. I am in awe and my gratitude is deep — this healing has given me a whole new life.

Thank you, thank you, bless you.

A Potential Life-Changer For Me

All my life, I have had fainting spells, and in the last few years I have gotten so bad that I often use a wheelchair. I can’t stand up for any length of time, especially if I’m holding my arms up at all (like carrying a mug). Finally I saw a cardiologist, and he has given me a corticosteroid called Florinef which, in less than 24 hours, has already made a huge difference.

It’s still early days, but for the first time in years I stood up while having a conversation for about 10 minutes and was absolutely fine. I’m finding little tasks around the house like making the bed and putting away dishes suddenly easy and effortless. And I’m stunned. I might have just changed my life.

Visible/Invisible Disabilities

I don’t speak about this very much, but perhaps I should: I am a young woman with physical and mental disabilities. If you saw a photo of me, you’d never know. Even an acquaintance might not guess. There are times when I look very healthy, and perfectly functional.

I have POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), which has gotten much worse in my 30s, as it tends to do. Basically, it means that my body doesn’t know how to pump blood to my brain when I’m standing. So when I’m upright, I have about a minute before I start feeling ill and lightheaded. Eventually, if I don’t sit down, I will faint. So as someone once dramatically put it, I can never stand still. Walking slowly has the same effect.

For this reason, I often use a wheelchair. In the chair, suddenly my disability is visible. And, I’ve noticed, something else becomes visible — other people’s ignorance and pig-headed rudeness. You’d be surprised how loud my partner Willow has to shout to get someone to shift over so she can wheel me by.

I also have DID (dissociative identity disorder). Yes, I have multiple personalities. A lot of them. But I put a spiritual spin on it and don’t really view it as a disability personally — I’m just “differently abled”.  And again, generally you wouldn’t have a clue. Except for times like yesterday.

Yesterday, we went to the Royal Winter Fair (think hundreds of cows and a petting zoo). I was in a wheelchair, and my inner kids got to “come out” to play. I encourage this, and it’s normal for me. When a four-year-old personality is out, I sound and act exactly like a four-year-old. Because in that moment, I am four.

But the reaction from others is, somewhat understandably, confused. People tend to think I’m developmentally or intellectually delayed, especially when I’m in a wheelchair.

Yesterday, when we were at the guinea pig display, and my inner kids came out to pet them, the lady at the display was clearly uncomfortable. And yet, when we started talking with a seven-year-old boy wearing a paper crown, he barely even paused to notice how we were acting. He just wanted us to know how soft the animals’ fur was, and helpfully pointed out which one was softest for us to pet. He made our day, and I wish more people were like that big-hearted little boy.