Author: tahmidchowdhury

Navigating a system that fails you

Yesterday, I went to the osteopath. We start the sessions with her asking what the issue is, after which she focusses on that area of the body.

Although the session was ultimately helpful, I can’t help but feel that there is something a little backward in this. Me, the non-expert, ends up needing to explain my symptoms and what I think is going on with my body.

I think I am particularly bitter this week because of the realisation about how much my chronic bodily tension has affected me up until this point. I actually follow a pretty typical route for a high-masking autistic person, where I held so much tension that went unnoticed for decades by everyone around me. I think it’s why I’ve had so many difficulties in eating, sleeping and weight management.

Dealing with a body on reboot

A key moment for learning is when things stop working properly.

Most of us have no idea how our car works. We don’t really need to either, so long as its functioning correctly.

But the moment something goes wrong, we decide to investigate. We open up the hood of the car, only to have the level of our ignorance be laid bare. We have no idea what we are looking at, nor how any of it really works. If we Time for us to learn quickly, else we be stuck on the side of the highway in the middle of the night.

Building my own physical rehabilitation

This morning, I felt like I wanted to stretch my body.
This small fact may sound unremarkable, but it is probably the first time that I genuinely wanted to move, rather than felt like I should.
I’ve previously exercised because it was good for me, or it made me feel better. In my recent low-activity state, I’ve missed the psychological relief it gave me.
But nowhere did anyone explain to me that the body is actually meant to want to do these things. Rather than being a rag doll to command, it is a living, breathing organism with its own signals and impulse.

Is it Trauma or is it Habit?

Why do we do the things that we do?

Many people smoke to regulate their stress rather than actually enjoying the taste. People often drink heavily as a form of escapism, rather than the social aspect.

There are often deep, underlying reasons for harmful behaviour. Without addressing these, you’re unlikely to kick any type of bad habits.

But equally, there comes a point where certain things have just become habits. If we do something long enough, it becomes an automatic instinct, even if we know they no longer makes sense.

The virtue of appreciating the small wins

A few days ago, I went to the cash machine, then walked directly to the supermarket. I bought a full load of groceries and walked back home.
I had no major fatigue or back pain flaring up. Believe it or not, this was notable progress.
It sounds so insignificant, but in the context of what I’ve been experiencing, this is a sign that I can slowly rely on my body again. It’s also incrementally more than I’ve been able to do in the last few weeks, and a much better bodily response than I’ve had in years.

Surrendering to the winds of the world

For the first time, I played with the notion that I may never recover. Perhaps the energy of old will never return. My new existence is one of exhaustion and management.

This may sound defeatist, but I don’t think it is. I do believe that I will recover, slowly, but surely. But considering how long this has gone on, and realistically how far off anyone’s expectation this has been, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility to think that I may never get better.

Rather than sounding bleak, there is a sense of simplifcation that comes with such a thought. No longer do I need to constantly find this something that I need to fight. No longer do I need to feel like I am delaying my life to a magical ‘when’ time. It allows me to be present, and not worry too much about the future. There is a freedom in this.

The Paradox of Recovery

I’m waking up with nausea. My back is flaring up. A fifteen minute walk is leaving me in agony. I’ve had to cancel on three social events this week.

I’ve regressed to the point that leaving the house seems like a risky endeavour. The nausea leaves my appetite in confusion. I know that I need to eat, but my sense of appetite is totally suppressed.

Such is the world of recovery. One week is good, another three weeks are difficult.

When conventional wisdom isn’t working

Last year, I stopped going to the gym. I had been going around two to three times a week. I had a personal trainer, who set me different strength exercises and increasing weight goals. On paper, I was doing everything I should have been.
Just before stopping, I got a blood test. Generally my health was good, but my cholesterol was particularly high. Most notably, my HDLs (the ‘good’ cholesterol) was quite a lot lower than they should have been.
If conventional wisdom were to be followed, my health should have gotten worse. I was no longer exercising, I stopped paying too much attention to diet and I returned to a very sedentary lifestyle.

The Frustration of an off-beat Body

A few weeks ago, I decided to start exercising more. I thought swimming would be a good, low impact activity that my body could metabolise.

Instead, I ended up doing less exercise, rather than more. I started randomly having ankle pain. It’s got to the point where the awkward pain has kept me from falling asleep.

These seemingly small issues can start having a large impact. My lack of sleep has meant other issues started emerging. I am now getting pain on my side, and my digestion problems have re-awoken. Now that my feet are somewhat better, it’s these stomach pains that are keeping me awake at night. I haven’t had a proper night sleep in the last week.

Aging and the Quest to Find Peace

I’ve come to the conclusion that my happiest days will be my final ones. I think I will live a long life, and I think I will be fortunate to retain relatively good health up until the end.

In those final few years, I will be at peace. I will, perhaps finally, feel free. No pressures from society. Enough financial security to live out my last days. And, most importantly, my internal pressures to serve others finally satiated.

It’s probably odd for me to talk about the end of my life. Indeed, I think it’s actually somewhat taboo. Going past our ‘prime’ years in the big cities is some frightening thought. The idea of even mentioning death brings up such discomfort that people avoid it at all costs.