Assessing the true price of the deep dive

If you are extremely prone to taking deep dives, the time comes for asking: What is the true price of doing this in terms of its impact on self-care; is it all worth it? What do I gain from this latest obsession? Is my self-care repeatedly suffering, coming second-best to my latest fixation? Have I succeeded in traumatising myself in the name of a few inches of increased knowledge? What did I lose, in terms of blissful ignorance or humanising innocence, when I opened up that latest can of worms? Should I continue or just drop it now, like a hot potato, to reclaim my peace of mind? Can I break this trend of pushing myself too hard, too relentlessly, without first assessing the value of what I am doing or whether my nervous system would rather be doing something else or even has the reserves to cope? Can I allow that it’s not always a waste of time to be less driven or intense? Can I guide my inbuilt intensity into more benign practices that generate joy and not so much discontent, fear and trauma? Can I actually learn to steer this neurodivergent vehicle of mine instead of running it off the rails?

Choosing to become much more grounded in physical reality

Spirituality can be ungrounding to some autistic individuals; a controversial topic that I have intended to write about, from personal experience, for quite some time and which I have seen under discussion in some other quarters lately. Exploring the impact of a hyperfocused approach to spirituality on health, especially when, on top of inbuilt deficits in interoception, this potentially leads a person to become desperately unbalance and ungrounded in their physical body, leading to increased fragility and vulnerability.

The importance of finding your place

So many of us put up with living in less than ideal places and circumstances, especially if we feel we are stuck with them, but what if they are the missing piece of the whole health jigsaw. If we also happen to be neurodivergent, feeling "out of place" can be become such an innocuous-seeming sensation across the course of a lifetime because we become so acclimatised to feeling like a misfit in a lot of situations; our version of "normal". This makes it all too easy to ignore times when we are really in the wrong place or situation, when we should be doing something about it, especially when our health is being badly impacted. Clues might be subtle but we, of all people, are past masters at piecing together all the signs and patterns that tell us there is a better kind of life waiting for us somewhere, one that better fits the way we are wired.

Can silence and loneliness cause pain and other interesting observations

I'm noticing an effect...where too much quiet or lack of human connection can trigger massively increased rigidity in my body, poor breathing habits, temperature disregulation and other dysautonomic effects and massively increased pain, especially small fibre neuropathy. So what do people have to say about this; how might it be connected with chronic pain conditions, autism, social isolation, old age and more?

The effect of chronic stress and early-life trauma responses on long term health

Looking at what we already know about the effect of chronic unaddressed toxic stress and early life trauma-responses, specifically from the perspective of neurodivergence, and its possible link to chronic health issues.

Finding a happy medium (or, when your ideal doesn’t turn out to be so idyllic)

We tend to think we want some extremely strong version of what we think we long for on the full spectrum of choices, and often it’s the very opposite of what we currently have, but that’s usually just a reaction. The best life we can ever live is never a reaction but a choice. Making our own choices, rather than reacting, is how we get to upgrade our experiences of life by becoming mindful of what we really want and going after that. Life becomes its own upgrade when (perhaps forced by circumstances that challenge what we thought we knew) we get to surprise ourselves with what we find out about ourselves and then to be utterly, ruthlessly, honest about what we really want, which often turns out to be quite different to what we used to think that we wanted, perhaps for a very long time until now. This is the gift of the thing that challenges our normality, whether that's an illness or some other set of circumstances that, initially, seem to present more of something you craved...perhaps more time, more quiet, a slower pace...but as ever, there is a happy medium to be found. Realising this is the very first step to attaining it!

A quest to know myself better through synesthesia

I’m beginning to sense that in synesthesia lies the key of so many aspects of my long running chronic pain. If I could only gain a better viewpoint of what actually happens to me when I sense things, I suspect I might be able to catch a glimpse (like some sideways-on reflection of myself reflected back at me in a shop window) of some of the causative aspects of pain where no other provocation for pain seems to exist. This feels like a worthwhile line of enquiry for anyone who is neurodivergent and weary of how unusual levels of pain never seems to abate, especially as I think it is possible to have one of the less talked-about versions of synesthesia and not even realise it since it is your version of normal.

Change = laxity = release: An inbuilt opportunity for healing

Exploring possible explanations for links between weather changes, episodes of hypermobility (increased laxity), oxalate dumping and sudden flare-ups of physical and/or emotional pain, all as linked to neurodiversity and hypervigilance.

Learning to slow down

Letting a day of nothing in particular be an accomplishment, even more so than a day of “productivity”, is a necessary mind re-program I am steadily adopting for my health. Allowing myself to feel equally good about myself and, most importantly, relaxed because I managed to go slow today rather than ticking things off a list is a crucial reinvention of myself on the way towards, somewhere down the line, reaping a far healthier nervous system than I ever had in my life. I’m playing the long game now, the fruits of my labours no longer some transient thrill gained from fighting down another dragon but the slow and steady harvest gained from peaceful seeds planted in the ground on some equally slow and steady day and all the intervening patience I had to watch them grow.