Reflections On The Healing Narrative
Healing narratives — and life narratives, for that matter — are fun when they have a resolution, when one has “come through” to the other side. The past tense can feel so safe. But I also think it is important to recognize the insanity that lives in between: the experiences that feel simultaneously impossible to document and like they need to be written down, drawn, or filmed. As long as that documentation promotes, rather than hinders, your recovery.
Walking the line between recording (and sharing) too little or too much of your journey can be confusing, but I refuse to let suffering be for naught! And so I tend to “strike while the iron is hot,” so to speak, by writing down how I feel when I feel it. The process of documenting my internal experience — from managing flashbacks to spiritual states of mind to anxiety and terror — is often slow, as I do not want to overstep where my body and brain might be in that moment. (Sometimes my body will tell me to stop before my mind processes that message.) However, I am slowly but surely turning the pain into a manuscript and eventually a comic, so something *productive* will come from it.
Below is a peek into that story.
In January of this year, I moved to NJ to live with relatives, having almost no clue what I would do, pretty much living in the void, my mental and physical well-being in crisis. I had recently gotten out of the hospital and was still in denial about a lot of things. This move was born out of a desire to reground and refocus after a couple of major life changes, including a tumultuous breakup.
During that time, people and things often looked like they were made of paper maché or digitally printed or behind thick layers of glass. I would wake up each morning with almost no idea how I would make it through the day. Thank god I wrote down what I needed to do each day (I was also attending yoga classes at a local studio) so I had something to go off of. It was like an extreme embodiment of “fake it till you make it” or “go through the motions.” Watching people interact was (and still is, to an extent) painful, although talking to them was even worse.
I had experienced all sorts of dissociative symptoms before — depersonalization and derealization included — but this was something else. This was something unworldly, even inhumane.
Over the course of about six weeks, I began to see small improvements in how present I felt. There were leaps of faith and difficult conversations, late night journaling sessions and countless calls to crisis support centers, but somehow I got through the winter. Pacing my activities and scheduling my time (as hard as it is!) as well as deepening my mindfulness and yoga practices, played key roles in the get-through.
Frankly, I remember almost none of that time, aside from vague glimmers of how it felt. Perhaps because my brain was too stressed out to form coherent memories, perhaps because I was living so internally already, or maybe it was just good old fugue. (Probably a combination of the above.)
“I’m Fine”
I live with a couple of pretty serious conditions that often create debilitating dissociative symptoms (issues with identity, thought patterns, periods of amnesia, etc) as well as confusion and brain fog. And yet, for too long I have been saying “I’m fine,” when I was too scared to ask for what I really needed. (Because self sufficiency and internal wisdom is the yogic way, right?) I would harbor resentment toward the people around me, who could not see my pain, and as I later realized, could not read my mind. Eventually, after weeks of presenting as OK, I would admit that things were not OK, and nearly break down. This pattern would repeat itself until eventually I left the situation or environment, or until things started to settle down through self care or on their own.
By identifying my role in this cycle, I am not instantly relieved of it, but having the awareness can help. There are more questions underneath that I can ask myself, like, “Why does asking for things feel so difficult?” and “Where does trust — or a lack thereof — come into play here?” but maybe those inquiries are best reserved for therapy. Communication is so crucial and can speed up your recovery, as long as you practice that communication with people who are safe.
At Last, Progress!
I have since moved back to NY, and though I am not where I want to be mentally or physically, I am seeing progress. I am no longer standing on two or more tectonic plates, holding on to threads between disparate worlds. I am beginning to let people in a bit more (again) and not taking the words “trust yourself” to such an isolating extreme.
When it comes to asking for what I need, I am working on doing so without feeling like an actual piece of sh*t, or like I immediately owe someone in return. I am not agonizing as much over every detail about the future or living in the (very true & real) terror. I am also no longer living in another galaxy, watching dust particles fall onto my fingertips (and not in a good way). There is a lot of work to be done and I still avoid most mirrors but I also don’t want to die like all of the time*, so that’s pretty cool.
When things are going more OK, it’s so easy to forget that they were not OK not so long ago. This is a survival mechanism. So, to appreciate change and give it recognition is to pay homage to your hard work and discipline.
With that in mind, my progress has NOT come without literally monumental effort and feats of self care. Plus support, guidance and advice from the right people. I may not remember much (or any) of this period in my life, but it is getting easier, so who cares. Progress is progress and that is something to appreciate and applaud.
A Word Of Advice
If you are struggling with your own health crisis, or know someone who is, know this: a tiny bit of understanding about your situation (from another, or from yourself) can go very far. Sometimes the smallest shifts in focus, along with the cumulative effects of practices like grounding, mindful meditation and yoga can make a difference. Do things with intention until that begins to stress you out more. Then shift from “intention to awareness,” as a healer friend of mine says. And, of course, seek professional help when needed (from a therapist, psychiatrist, primary care doctor, naturopathic or alternative medical practitioners, etc).
Try to find people who can pull you out of your head (in small doses, if that helps you feel more comfortable) because sometimes we cannot recognize our own rumination or self-destructive behaviors until we have a bit of distance from them. Or, if you don’t have access to folks you feel comfortable around, join support groups! Your local NAMI, Al-Anon, or LGBTQ+ service centers are good places to start, or search online through mental health forums or KIK.
Lastly, give yourself a break when you need it (seriously, not everything needs to happen right NOW) and allow your self care practices to evolve along with what you need each day. Remember that you are stronger than you think.
*Chronic suicidality is super real and takes effort (and practice) to work through! Reach out to friends who might be struggling and offer support if you can!
