What a time to be sortof alive

… as I lay in bed, clutching my guts, chronically moving because low blood pressure keeps numbing my limbs, breathing shallowly, and going through achey-breaky cycles of chills and sweats.

My head is exploding. My insides have been, too. My respiratory system is stuffed. There’s a pressure in my skull that can’t be described.

Everything is stiff, pained, strained – like my muscles were clenched for a week straight and fully fatigued beyond functionality. The world is full of static and overwhelming stimulation when I try to stand. But my body is too weak to be vertical without falling over, anyways; this protein prison is acutely lacking coordination or apparent muscle tone as I stumble into walls and run my hips into countertops, adding to my aches and pains, inspiring me to dramatically exclaim “really, self? Can we try not to make this worse right now?”

What’s wrong with me on day 2 of my illness? I don’t know!
What do I think by day 5? No idea!
How about today, day 9, of this persistent hell? I still have 3k clues and 0 answers.
I never fucking do.

Welcome to life as a “sensitive-bodied” and “chronically stressed” person.

An unlucky fucker whose meatsuit collects and seemingly multiplies strain, accumulates the systemic imbalances accrued during flailing attempts to keep moving forward despite the signs of shit gone wrong, and then collapses under an onslaught of mysterious – often, seemingly, unrelated – health failures.

Over and over and over again.

But don’t worry, it’s been 12 years of this song and dance.

At least I don’t freak out about it anymore. Don’t put myself through late night WebMD searches, condescending doctor appointments, or feverish attempts at “quick fixes” with expedited shipping options so I can get back to my cubicle before my shame complex and self-accusations of being a “pussyass faker” fully take over.

And that’s at least 90% of the potential torment, removed.

Somewhere along the line, if you’re like me, you learn that none of these measures work.

They only create more stress on the system.

More turmoil, anxiety, and internal warring.

And that, therefore, continues to promote the very illness that you’re trying to combat.

Locking you in a vicious battle with your own brain, versus your body, versus the real life responsibilities that never let up, versus your brain, versus your body, versus real life responsib-…..

You get the point.

The drive to NEVER be sick is a huge one.
The drive to GET BETTER IMMEDIATELY, if you are ‘weak enough’ to get sick in the first place, is even greater.
And the panicked self-shaming, chiding, doubting, and gaslighting when you can’t magically will yourself to be 110%? Is a whole trauma-stress complex of its own, which can keep you debilitated, maybe indefinitely.

So what’s a Fucker to do?

To learn, now, the wisdom, skills, and behaviors, that you needed to absorb in your first 20 years of life so that this mess wouldn’t ever/cyclically happen.

To see you vs. the world as a game where being on your own team is absolutely necessary.

To stop putting “the demands of a correct life” ahead of the reality of your own life.

To treat yourself with some fucking kindness. Even though a voice in your head convincingly tells you “that’s not allowed.”

That’s right. In the face of Psychosomatic Illness, my recommendation is to:
BE SICK
SPEND THAT TIME WITH YOUR OWN INTERNAL LANDSCAPE
DECIDE WHAT YOUR SYSTEM IS TRYING TO TELL YOU – WHAT WENT WRONG
TRANSLATE THIS MESSAGE OF MISERY AND SELF-NEGLECT INTO A LESSON LEARNED, ABOUT YOU
and then
TAKE THAT LESSON AND TRANSMUTE IT INTO BEHAVIORAL CHANGE (little by little, as much as you can)

So, hopefully, you consistently communicate with your system and offer it compassion in the ways it requires, henceforth, and this particular circle of hell doesn’t have to be revisited every month or two.

But… none of what I just described above is as easy as the alternative.

When we can brutalize ourselves with judgments, interjected abuse, and frantic attempts to pump our systems full of chemicals that prop us up enough to perform as dancing corpses so our bosses, coworkers, and relationship partners don’t fling accusations our way…

… Why would we, instead, sink into our ailments, ask our bodies to reveal their secret/painintheass wisdom, and take that lesson to heart as we slowly put real attention and effort into re-righting our sunken physiology through consistent effort over time?

Most of us… wouldn’t.

Many of us…. can’t. Even if we want to.

And, that’s the wall this Fucker runs into, too.

True self-care is a class-gated experience.

Having a lifestyle that matches our actual ability to perform physically, mentally, emotionally, and stressfully? That’s not available for most.

Having a lifestyle that matches our actual ability to perform physically, mentally, emotionally, and stressfully…. while we also have heads built on trauma that regularly require extra effort to unravel the horrifying tapestries they weave, less they make our stress and functionality even more confounding factors in our attempt to be healthy?

That’s not available for almost any of us.

And so, despite the hard-learned lessons and best efforts of a trauma researcher, psychology MS, cellular biologist, pre-medical degree holder, and capitalism defector to stay well, through careful lifestyle and stress management….

Here we are. Sick, again.

Aware that psychosomatic illness prevention flies in the face of “surviving the 2020s.”

Aware that there’s no end in sight to this daily fight of “working enough to stay alive” vs. “having a body that is fully capable of life.”

Aware that I’ll probably never escape from this pattern of stress-downfall, because the alternative is to stop trying to have a roof over my head… which, experience tells me, would also culminate in extreme stress and illness.

And I’m far from the only one.

So. To be perfectly realistic here.

Refusing to pretend that any of us have a socioeconomic or family background that allows for “three months near the ocean, breathing salt air from an open window while engaging in 0 activity…” as was once prescribed….

All a MF can do?

Is to ride it out, as kindly to this self as possible. (So I don’t make it worse on myself than it already is with an inner critic’s ruthless hounding)
To try to learn from it – to finetune my daily habits and pinpoint early warning signs of oncoming illness. (So hopefully, someday, those tiny adjustments lead to more beneficial global changes, should the economy ever swing in my favor)
And to share the experience in the ways that I can. (So, maybe, a MF like I was 12 years ago can find some relief, rest, and relaxation of their self-slave-driving tendencies without having to go through a decade of bedridden learning themselves.)

And I recommend the same “not good enough, but it’s the best we can do outside of an olde thymey romance novel,” measures to you.

WHAT TO DO ABOUT PSYCHOSOMATIC ILLNESS

Be kind to yourself.
Don’t add stress to the stress-based illness that you’re trying to fend off.
Don’t push yourself to get back on your feet before you feel them solidly under you again.
And if this life isn’t supporting this body you have… ask how you can change your behaviors, not how you can try to mandhandle your body into having different biology.
It’s a slow process. There won’t be an overnight fix.
But with time, your psychosomatic illness can become an occasional setback, too. Rather than a daily fear that, itself, inspires more illness.

And when you’re not sure how to be nice to yourself to weather a particular storm?
Ask yourself: What care did I need when I was a child?
Then deliver that kindness, compassion, and gentle attention… like, probably, no one was able /willing to reliably provide back then.
You can do it now. It might be part of what your system is screaming for.

There’s no easy answer.
So take it easy on yourself as you figure it out.
And when in doubt, remember… this modern world is bullshit. Before this, our biology flourished for millenia.
So the real problem is not your meat-being. It’s the cages we’re currently kept in and the expectations we’ve placed on ourselves to be happy and healthy, despite the bars.

Don’t punish you for the ways that the world already has.
And I’m here, with you, when you have your doubts that this degree of self-compassion is “allowed.”

This weekend I’ll be putting out a long episode on Psychosomatic Illness.

We’ll be talking about:
What it is/what it isn’t.
How the brain shoots tornadoes into the body via autoimmune disorder and beyond.
Six (but really 8) common patterns that lead to psychosomatic illness uprisings – so you can start to notice/prevent/stop questioning your cyclical illness kickstarters.
And more tips for navigating your illness without making it worse on yourself.

It will be available on the Patreon, at the “Free Membership” and all other levels of subscription, as part of the ongoing Back to Basics series.

And I hope to see you there.

For one more sappy point?

If one MF finds some relief from the presentation I’ve put together, these 9 days (and counting!) of gut churning have served a purpose, and this PSI has not been a waste.

In fact, maybe its exactly what I required to slow down, assess this brain-body-survival battle, and put out the information that someone else needed. And that makes it worth the while.

🤷‍♀️

Eh. Sorry for the sunnyside. Ya look for yer MF gold linings by day 6 of isolated writhing.

See you in the Psychosomatic episode this weekend. (remember, it’s FREE! Just click “join for free” or join at any sub level on the patreon page)

❣️

And cheers, y’all.