Meraki Healing Center, PLLC

Anyone else go through these periods of time where you are deep in reflective zones? Just me? Every time it happens I have this experience of it being profound in some way, or I’m always slightly surprised by not just the intensity of it, but the fact that it’s happening at all. But then I take a step back and I realize these periods happen for me regularly. I go through these cycles all the time, but I think sometimes I lean into them more and I let them happen.

They’re deeply uncomfortable. This is what I’ve come to realize. As I’m sitting here trying to put words to paper (*computer screen*), I am held up by the inability to translate the feeling into something tangible to write down. But it also connects to the deeper, underlying concept that is likely going to be the focus of a lot of things for me for the foreseeable future: the centricity of the nervous system. I hope that’s a word and that I’m using it correctly.

Yea, I am in a period of returning back to the nervous system. I have had many different instances lately that remind me of the importance of nervous system regulation, and the vast implications this has on every aspect of our lives and wellbeing. I actually believe we are getting mental healthcare completely wrong, and that we need to be addressing it from the lens of the nervous system, but that’s a blog post for another day.

My thoughts are so disjointed right now, they are popping up all over the map, and the only thing i can think to do is take you through what’s happening. my initial embarrassment and frustration at the fluster kinda dissipates into genuine curiosity and intrigue as i write this: how many pieces of information is my nervous system picking up and sorting through, right now, that is leading to all of these different thoughts? A human computer, but so much fucking cooler (to me). If you have no idea wtf I’m talking about, I’m gonna give you an extremely watered-down neuro lesson on this one small aspect of the autonomic nervous system:

actually no, i’m not, not yet. just google “neuroception” and let yourself be brought into this fascinating new world that will change your life if you let it. in real-time: i feel panicky as i type this, as i look at the demonstration of the disjointed text and thought-trains on the page. when i say panicky, i feel that as fluttering in my chest and stomach; i am aware of this racy, jittery feeling in my arms and hands and the urge to shake them. tingling in my feet, too. just thirty seconds later (maybe more, idk what time is during this) and that panicky feeling is not so present. no tingling in my feet, and a little heavier feeling in my arms, maybe, but in a way that feels more connected, more grounded, more present. i am no expert and i may not have it completely right, but i think that shift is because i didn’t avoid the feeling, didn’t just unconsciously push through it. i paused and acknowledged what i was feeling. but i didn’t leave it as “panicky” – because what is that? what do i mean by that? i need to identify where i feel it in my body. by doing that, i am effectively coaching myself through that feeling – i’m not getting caught up in it by focusing on the thoughts that accompany or proceed after the feeling – but instead i stayed present in it without getting stuck in it. i was able to move through it, which meant that i was able to tell my brain and body that it was safe to feel this, that i didn’t need to avoid or distract, that it would pass.

you know why that’s important? because that panicky feeling – that’s nervous system activation. that was a stress response, and it happens before our conscious awareness can even be aware of the sensations that precede it. there was something that triggered my brain to say that i needed to prepare for survival; that a threat was present. and my body did what my body is supposed to do when that stress response system is activated. i think. i’m not entirely sure this is 100% accurate*, but what i do know is that everything that i do, say, or think, is directly tied to my nervous system. everything about lived experience is directly tied to our nervous systems. and we are not doing a good job of educating on the importance of this. (*this is a shadow part. yes, i am sure).

So how does this relate to my season of pruning?

My autopilot mode has always been one of busyness: I jam my calendar full of tasks and meetings and responsibilities; I run from one thing to the next, I feel the ‘high’ from crafting this schedule; there’s always this sense of urgency, and a deep desire and need for control. I describe this as being on the hamster wheel. The hamster wheel is my autopilot, it feels like it just happens naturally, and it is what is comfortable, it’s what is familiar. Well, I also know that my autopilot is no longer adaptive for me. It doesn’t work for me the way it did before, and I don’t think it’s because there’s anything inherently different about how it serves me now versus then; I think I just have a conscious awareness of more of the implications of it now, and I am aware of the detrimental impacts it has on my wellbeing. The hamster wheel does not serve me. It is fueled by insecurity, by shame, by needing to prove my worth; it is an avoidance tactic. It is toxic, and its effects can be brutal, but it is so deeply ingrained that it is what feels comfortable. It is what my body naturally goes to, because it’s what it’s always done for survival. It’s what I’ve always known. And, to bridge the connection, this hamster wheel autopilot is a classic example of a nervous system stuck in flight mode. I bounce between this state and shutdown, by the way, resulting in a much lower capacity for stress – it doesn’t take much to send my system into overwhelm, into a chronic freeze state, and it is what I am trying to avoid slipping back into…more on this to come.

The last few years I’ve learned the benefits of slowing down. Fortunately for me this started before COVID, so I had time to kinda experience it on my own terms first, before the whole world inadvertently got a taste of it during the shutdown. For me, the slowing down consisted of intentional practices that completely changed my life and my way of thinking. It was the period that ultimately led to me applying to go back to grad school. My desperation to fix my chronic back pain led to the discovery of a whole new world of healing for me, one that continues to unravel and become more clear as I remember that it exists, that I can return to it. I’ll write more about this, too, because it’s a fundamental chapter.

That’s where the pruning concept comes from. For the past few years, I’ve been so deep in learning about the nervous system – specifically about the impacts of trauma on the nervous system, and what it means to work with our ANS and develop skills to regulate & build new patterns. The more I learned, the more passionate I became about incorporating that knowledge into my work: it felt – feels – critical to share these profound lessons with others. But that hasn’t always translated to me maintaining the practices for myself. The past few months especially, I’ve been very cognizant of the deeply ingrained nature of my autopilot mode, and how, if I’m really paying attention, it doesn’t feel good (I think this awareness is in part because it’s such a stark contrast to what I experienced during the summer road-trip). I feel the magnetic draw of the hamster wheel, though – the ways in which it can be very adaptive for success, depending on what you’re using as measures of success. And in response, I know the increased effort I have to be able to give to resist that pull; if I don’t, I will be forced off the hamster wheel in a much more debilitating fashion. It is hard work, and I’ve not done it very successfully. There are too many reasons why I NEED to be able to stay on that hamster wheel! But I also know that sentiment is coming from a shadow part of me, the same insecure part mentioned above, and that it is time I prioritize listening to my body again. I know what’s at stake if I don’t.

So. Pruning. It is time for me to practice what I preach. But more than that, actually, it’s time for me to stop centering the “preach” part, and instead remember to prioritize me. It’s time for me to return to the things I learned, to put into practice the different techniques and skills that have fallen out of my internal toolbox, because my body is screaming at me that I need it. I need to cut things away, I need to make space for the new growth that is coming. I can’t keep it all in the garden; there are too many things that are weeds right now, sucking up and hoarding all the nutrients and space that the flowers need in order to bloom.

I didn’t want to write this yet because I wondered what the “takeaway” would be – shouldn’t I instead wait until after this season, and write the lessons from the other side of it? Also, I’m afraid of listing the things that are shifting, the things that I’m cutting away and the things I’m adding, because they feel deeply personal to me. They feel too vulnerable, maybe because I’m still not sure what I’m doing and I’m afraid of the judgment that’s inevitable – from others, but perhaps mostly from myself. For now, I’ll say that the things I’m re-prioritizing are the tools that allow me to not only be in touch with my physiology but actually rewire it to allow optimal functioning. The latter part takes a long time, and I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m hoping these intentional practices that allow me to turn inwards will help (continue to) point me in the direction of what needs to be removed.

Cuz right now, I have no answers. I am just deep in the muck of figuring out where to prune.