My body is not a machine
The relationship I need to cultivate within myself but I've been unwilling to acknowledge because my mind's been in control.
A prologue of sorts
I wonder where it started — the pattern of disconnection. To see myself as disposable. To see my body as unimportant. To place my mind on pedestal where I worship its thoughts all day long.
No one told me overthinking could lead to disconnection. No one told me cherishing the world of my thoughts could leave me feeling profoundly alone and exhausted. No one told me all the noise between my ears could be lies. No one told me I had the choice to listen.
No one told me my body was to be respected. No one told me my body was wise. No one told me my body helped me move through this world. No one told me to ask what it needs. No one told me ignoring my bodies calls for attention could hurt me.
No one told me anything about what it means to exist in this meat suit. No one told me it was the house of my soul, my spirit, something big than me. Something more meaningful than the endless onslaught of thoughts. No one told me there was something moving me beyond my body. No one told me I was sacred.
Any maybe here in lies the problem — no one told me anything. Maybe these things that aren’t meant to be told, but lived, breathed, felt. Maybe a life rooted in the body isn’t a list of finely executed experiences but a deep knowing rooted in the well of the soul. Because maybe, just maybe, life is meant to be lived — not thought about.
I sat in therapy last week and my therapist kindly pointed out how I keep saying I am tired. Then, she had the audacity to ask me if I was resting. To which I replied, no.
I told her my brain kept telling me I was tired, but it never suggested the thought or idea of resting. My brain just kept telling me what I need to do, accomplish, check on to make sure life kept moving forward. My brain kept thinking about the onward direction, it never thinks about pausing.
I have a lot of thoughts everyday, I am sure you do to, brain’s need to think. But I didn’t even think, with all my excellent problem solving skills, to rest because I was tired.
No one taught me to rest, to value a break, to go at my own pace. Rest isn’t what keeps this world turning, at least where I live in this terrifying place, productivity is the name of the game.
Rest, listening to the body, honoring oneself above production is revolutionary.
It also comes with heaping dose of privilege.
There is certain level of safety required in one’s system to rest. To trust pausing won’t risk unraveling, failure or death.
There needs to be a trust that listening to one’s needs above the narrative of the society isn’t dangerous, but necessary.
It also doesn’t help that the messages one received at home around resting and honoring the body probably didn’t add up to it being okay.
I am realizing what is happening in my body, in my life lately, isn’t just about rest.
It is about listening to myself. It is about seeing my opinion of my life as valuable. It is about seeing myself as the authority of my life.
Things are out of control, but things have never been in control.
The world has been coming apart at the seams forever.
I’ve never been in control of it. But what can I control?
Myself.
How I show up. How I interact with strangers. How I care for my self. How I love my people.
And I am not controlling myself. I don’t mean that in a weird way. I mean the places where I can take control of my life, I am giving away my power.
Like with the noise in my head.
The endless stream of thoughts all day long, I let it go on. I have learned mindfulness isn’t about not having thoughts, because thoughts are the brain’s job. But mindfulness is watching and noticing the thoughts. It is not believing every single one as truth and arranging your life around them. It is about approaching thoughts with curiosity.
It is about noticing the one’s I don’t like and not following them through.
It is a choice, well it’s also a very strong pattern at this point, to not include my body in the conversation.
I have patterned my brain into thinking about what it can do instead of what I need.
I have put my brain on a pedestal and ignored my body.
I have contributed to this profound disconnection I feel about being alive by ignoring the thing that is the reason I am alive.
My body.
I have this thought a lot lately, I cannot remember where I got it from, but it goes something like this…being in a body is to have a sensory experience. I know as an autistic human I hate this truth sometimes. Because being in this body of mine comes with a high sensitivity towards anything sensory.
But I also think about dying a lot without forging more respect for my body. I believe in a soul, I believe in something after this life, some piece of existence remaining after my body dies. I think because of this disconnection I feel, I have started to feel premature grief and sadness about someday losing my body.
Because I know I am missing the point of having one.
I want to learn to move through my life in my body. The one I have, the sensitive one. I want to welcome in the sensory experiences that feel good. I want to trust myself to push away the ones at don’t. I want to listen to my body with a deep reverence.
I want to stop acting like my mind is the most important thing I have because it turns me into a machine. I keep chasing perfection, accomplishment, achievement when I listen to my mind, when I let it run free.
I want to focus on something else.
I want to feel a connection to myself.
A reverence. A respect. A relationship.
Because I have poured a lot of time and energy into the relationship with my mind. But my body? Even thought I have lived in for thirty years, I am not sure I am acquainted with it at all.
It has been my own public enemy number one.
And it’s my home.
But I am starting to realizing the key to feeling like I am here, rooted in my life, in my experience is to live life through my body. By being present. By being inside of myself. By asking my body what it needs. By resting.
I need rest, it isn’t an option. I move through life differently. I have capacity than most and everyday activities take more of my energy than you would expect.
Not living in my body has only gotten me so far and I am not sure it has helped me feel alive.
The world feels like its crumbling. I worry about terrible things happen because they happen every day. I am just waiting for them to happen to me, to my family, inside the circle of my life. It’s horrible but true.
And at the same time this deep seeded fear is also prompting me to live. If there is some sort of inevitable doom, I sure as shit want to go out knowing I gave this whole life thing my all. I want to go out knowing I gave the human experience, my unique human experience, everything I have.
Which, ironically or not, looks like resting, laying in the grass, doing less, and accepting more.
No one is coming to save me, do this work for me or complete me.
I am working through a lot of old wounds. I am seeing how much my life has been formed by loving other people, protecting other people, needing other people, but not really asking myself what I want or what I need.
I figured out how to survive, I am still here. But I am aching for something more true than just getting through the day.
All the things I have been searching for in other people, I need to be willing to give to myself.
All the things I have given willing to other people, I need to be willing to give to myself.
I am not sure where this leaves me, at some sort of beginning I am sure. I want to do things differently. I want to cultivate a different relationship with myself, one that includes all parts of me, mind, body and spirit.
I have spent my whole life pouring into my mind,
A solid decade worth pouring into my spiritual side,
But the body is uncharted territory, always an afterthought, until now.
More to come on this,
Emma
P.S. This song was playing in my head the whole time I wrote this post :)
Welcome to How Human, I’m human, autistic, a writer and a mother navigating different parts of myself while trying to live a full creative life. I believe offering ourselves compassion for being human is where great change begins.
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