Photo by Aliaksei Lepik on Unsplash In the past, I’ve bemoaned the lack of warmth people have. Maybe it’s a capital city thing, but the level of hyper-independence makes it nigh on impossible to have a sustained relationship with anyone. People are too emotionally unavailable, or too busy doing their own thing. Fast forward to […]
(Yes, I felt compelled to write about neurodivergence. And yes, I’m publishing this at 2am)
Most people have heard about yoga, but fewer know about ayurveda. If yoga is the physical and spiritual practice, ayurveda is the science of health, based upon practices refined over thousands of years in South Asia.
I’ve been experiencing a burnout, and I’ve found that our modern-day approaches are pretty poor. Ayurveda gave me the first systemic explanation of burnout that actually made sense.
This made my mind return to how this might map onto neurodivergence. As my brain ticked along, I realise that it actually maps up extremely well.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Yesterday, Bangladesh had its national elections. But this was no ordinary elections, it was the first that was broadly fair and free in nearly two decades.
In the West, the idea of a free and fair election is taken for granted. So is the idea of general state stability. Post-colonial South Asian politics has no such luxury. Bangladesh has been mirred with in-fighting, coups and counter-coups throughout its young history. A descent into military rule has very much been on the cards over the last few years.
As such, these elections were historic. Nonetheless, the slight irony is that the results themselves feel somewhat anticlimactic to me. Although broadly peaceful and open elections are to be celebrated, reforms and genuine positive change will take a lot more hard, earnest work.
I went to a tango class this week. For one reason or another, I found myself feeling far more stable and grounded.
On the surface, nothing had particularly changed I had been to a class only a week before, and although I did feel a bit better that day, there was not an obvious reason for such a sudden improvement.
But in the context of my bodily recovery, this shift actually makes quite a lot of sense. For the first time in my life, I am focussing on keeping my body relaxed. I feel like I have reached the tipping point where I am actually guided by my body, rather than constantly pushing it along.