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. 

There is no creed that makes pain less painful

All that exists owes its life to all that is no more. Each passing moment is a martyr for the next, just as pain is our debt to joy. There’s no wisdom or faith that makes pain less painful. It must hurt if anything is to matter: your life depends on it.

So stop. Your sorrow chases you: turn toward it. Watch it catch up. It will not pounce and end you. You will not lose more than you already have.

Grief is your mother. Let her feed you, for grief is the food your soul was made to eat. It digests pain into life itself. Your soul knows how to break pain down into its parts, which are the same nutrients that combine to make purpose and awe and laughter. You don’t have to do anything, just as your stomach knows what to do with meat and potatoes. Turnips have birthed poetry — consciousness — war crimes — human drama. Pain birthed the chance at eking out a living at all.

Stop starving yourself. This hunger strike never prevented the bad things from happening, and your numbness slips into dissolution as you cease to exist.

So greet your sorrow. Make room for it at your table. Accept the dish it offers and break bread for you both.

Grief is here. Grief, your mother who loved you. Eat, weep, and see tomorrow. Nourished, you will survive; one day you will have enough strength to give as thanks.

A Letter From The Universe

To An Old Soul;

You are not being punished. Admittedly this place will hurt you. However, we expect you will find ways to make it better — not just for your own comfort’s sake, but to help others who also live here. 

Time is still precious, of course, but here you must give nearly all of yours as dues for daring to exist in the first place. Breathing is still free but very little else in terms of your bodily requirements. Do you begin to understand? Here, you will feel you ought not to exist. The one thing you are surely innocent of causing — the fact you have a body and mind — will be considered suspect. You are leasing your life, in a sense, and you will likely have to leverage most of your life’s hours just to afford it. 

You will be taught much — oh, so much! — but not how to cope with the strain and pain of your labour; not how to feel as though you and everyone else deserve to be here. It will be tempting to sleep or otherwise distract your mind from the absurdity of this place. It will get into you like a chill at night. If you remember this message, you must reject everything this place has ever told you and hold fast to what feels only obvious in your heart. 

You may come to feel that nothing matters at all, since life is treated like a crime. People all around you will feel this too, even if they do not know that the world at large is a parody of worthwhile existence. We cannot guarantee you will remember this message, dear soul. We pray you will seek meaning, and perhaps even come to realize that by seeking “meaning” you are asking for a reason to go on living instead of finding a way out. 

You want a reason for going through the effort and the pain. Pet possibilities — like gods and mystical answers — may not satisfy you. In this case you must choose to create your own feeling that life is worth it, because you know it is. You know that if life were valued here the way you feel it ought to be, it would be beautiful, remarkable, perfect. 

That means you know that life is worth it. 

We hope you will go forth on a mission of life-cherishing. There will be no shortage of other souls who need help cherishing their own lives, and we hope you will be moved to aid them. You may try to change the world if you wish. But your own mind’s freedom is your utmost responsibility. Do not be deceived and do not behave as if you believe the absurdities of a worthless life. Stand out in radical devotion to your worth, and the worth of all Being. 

We will meet again. Be brave — in this life and the eternal thereafters.

Poetry: In the Cracks

a random poem that spilled onto the page just now.

*

People who fit into the cracks
don’t get there by falling —
they slide, duck, and twist,
slick as shadows,
as they’ve always admired
tree roots for their secrets.
Jeweled branches that reach
above ground into sky praise
themselves too much. They’re too loud,
too brash, too selfish, always
in the way of someone else.

Those who fit into the cracks
can be but a blur of light, barely seen,
the way curls of smoke
are scarves for air.
These souls smooth
themselves into a second skin
over wounds and ugliness, hoping
to be unnoticed,
like a stitch that holds
a despairing heart together.

Those who fit into the cracks
become what is needed
in the manner of an underling,
a servant quick to please,
or a mother-goddess tending
her young;
the same thing, sometimes.

And those that notice
the wisp of a quiet girl hidden
in the cracks
might see a frightened deer
or the bravery of star-birth.
She doesn’t mind
which you choose;
she’s busy knitting
purpose into the lost,
and perhaps, looking
to see where she fits
into the cracks of you.

Potential is the Secret to Joy

Do not look with wonder at the masters of crafts or sciences; admire instead the natural imagination of a child to sees potential in anything. If you can realize the potential of the present moment and truly connect with that feeling, you have recaptured the spirit of a child who so naturally explores their imagination to the fullest, in joy and wonder and laughter.

Of Meaning and Existential Crisis

Meaning has no place in thoughts of the future, but only in how you think of the now.

This is my answer to all you existentially-minded souls, all who just seek a reason… All who have feared an empty, bleak future.

Care about something and feel the meaning of that, here in the now.

That’s all there is to it. You can only feel meaning in the present moment. So reflect on what you do care about, let yourself truly feel, and go from there.

On Suicide and Self-Destruction

[This could be triggering — but that’s the last thing I intend. If you are suicidal, please reach out. And if you have no one you can talk to, please talk to me.]

So you want to die. Maybe you’ve already opened your skin a little, to see blood and feel alive. I’m not going to tell you how to live — I’m going to tell you how to kill your Self, your ego that hurts so much. And maybe it’s the weirdest advice you’ll ever hear, but life is fucked up sometimes, so hear me out.

You can be free from yourself, and it’s just as thrilling as jumping into traffic. It’s as hardcore as cutting and the risks are high.

Imagine you’re already dead — your Self doesn’t matter — life doesn’t matter — you’re a ghost. Kill yourself in your mind, now, and cut your soul so deep you might never be the same.

You’re already dead; so you have nothing to fear. No responsibilities to worry about.

Have you ever dreamed of throwing yourself in front of an 18-wheeler? With all the thrill of pain and terror and meeting the unknown? I have a different way, and I won’t tell you it’s any better, but why not try? You’re already dead, so what have you got to lose?

Throw yourself in front of a lonely stranger and ask them if they’re okay. Then just listen, like the ghost you are.

I don’t know what will happen. No one does. But you’re dead, so don’t take things so seriously. Laugh like it’s all a joke, this life, and give up all the fear you have left.

Be free from yourself for a little while. It’s a terrifying and thrilling thing. You might find it more exciting than opening your skin or getting high. Instead of giving up your blood and pain, give up energy and time. It’s as risky a sacrifice as physical destruction.

Try something just as exhilarating as standing on the very edge of a bridge. Jump off the edge of your Self and its fears. If you’re into risky behaviour, take risks with your heart and soul.

It may not feel better. And I know you just want to feel better, at the heart of it all. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a reason to stay out of traffic and get in front of other people’s rushing souls instead. Maybe if you kill yourself and your fears in your mind, you’ll find the freedom to be yourself in life.

One Example of Dissociation in Action

Dissociation makes you less aware of your body and your surroundings. We all do it to some degree, some of the time — but when it’s severe and/or constant, it’s a problem.

While I was on my trip in Algonquin Park I had some major epiphanies that showed how dissociative I was in the past. The most surprising realization I had is that I actually take a size 11 woman’s running shoe, but had been wearing 8.5/9 runners all my adult life. There is no logical explanation for why I thought it was normal to wear shoes that consistently made my feet BLEED, to the point of scarring. This is how dissociation works: at the time, I knew my feet got a “little” blistered and I was somewhat aware that they bled. But I blocked out the pain and didn’t ever think that maybe I needed bigger shoes. I had no idea how shoes were supposed to fit. See, I was used to being grateful for the fact I had shoes at all (I usually only had one pair of shoes at a time). When I was growing up I couldn’t ask for clothes and I remember trying to hot-glue my only pair of shorts together for gym class when the zipper busted.

So when I was running after a moose in Algonquin and my feet got sore, Willow realized that something was wrong and I started wearing her runners instead (size 10 men’s). Today we got rid of all my old shoes and got me three pairs that actually fit: cute flats, nice boots, and runners (Value Village for the win!). I keep exclaiming in amazement how great they feel and how wonderful it is to be comfortable. I’ve never experienced this before and it’s blowing my mind.

Multiplicity and Voice

I identify as a multiple, and one of the more interesting things about this is I can sing in different voices, which represent different personalities.

This is Robert (it IS me singing, no audio changes, but in Robert’s voice).

 

And this is Shannon, singing along to Tori Amos.

 

And this is more or less me, Story, singing Bon Iver’s Holocene.

 

This last one is a totally improvised, original song by Story.

Emptiness and Qiinuituk

In emptiness we come face to face with ourselves and the infinite. There is great peace to be found if we can accept a moment alone with our soul and the land and the universe.

Where I live in Canada there have been weeks of grey days. But I feel the heartbeat of the land that is more authentic joy than a glint of sunlight…the beat of Life.

The Inuit have a word for the meditative peace of emptiness, which in their barren landscapes has been anything but empty.

Qiinuituk…

“This is when you are alone, the lonely living thing far away from earthly things and filled with peace. This sense of peace fills every corner of your mind. It is more satisfying than any joy you have ever experienced in your conscious life because it runs deeper than happiness. It can mend broken thoughts and feelings, and having experienced it gives you the knowledge that it can come again when you feel there is nowhere to go.” (Quoted in Inuit Women: Their Powerful Spirit in a Century of Change By Janet Mancini Billson, Kyra Mancini)