I was reading something this weekend about pain and how it’s the body’s way of telling us there’s something we need to pay attention to. And then I thought… it works for the heart and the mind too.
I’ve had a few pain points lately. Learning to adjust to this new life has been so very beautiful, on the one hand, and… well, so many other things too. There have been pain points. Moments when my nervous system is totally dysregulated. Moments when I’m overwhelmed with the number of decisions that need to be made and the details that need to be arranged. Moments when my brain is overly taxed with all of the forms that need to be filled out and the offices that need to be visited. Moments when I stand in front of the self-checkout screen at the grocery store and just can’t figure out how to punch in the code for onions because my brain is just completely DONE.
AND… this weekend, I turned toward those pain points, wondering what they were telling me to pay attention to. How do I need to resource myself? Where do I need new (or reshaped) boundaries? What can I learn from my reaction to these things? How can I be more tender with my own neurodivergent brain?
Oof. Those pain points showed me a LOT. I started seeing patterns I hadn’t paid attention to before, and the patterns painted a clearer picture than I’d seen before.
It wasn’t that there was necessarily anything new showing up. If we had signs for our brains, like those road signs in national parks that warn of potential fire hazards when there hasn’t been enough rain, I’ve long known that mine tips into the red zone whenever I’m faced with too much bureaucracy, having to fill out too many forms, visiting the offices of too many professionals, and navigating too many government or regulatory agencies. It wasn’t a surprise for me, for example, when I had a mini-meltdown after visiting multiple offices to get my car safety-checked, get my drivers license, and get my car insured. I remember feeling similarly after all of the office visits required for my divorce (lawyers, vital statistics, banks, etc.).
But this time, when I turned toward it (after sitting in more than one parking lot in tears, if I’m honest), something new showed up – something that helped me understand my own neurodivergence on a deeper level. Something that showed me more of what I need for the future. Something that clarified the ways in which the world isn’t designed to accommodate all of the vast diversity of brains and nervous systems that we beautiful messy humans have.
I will write more, at some point, about what new learning showed up this weekend, but for now I need to hold it close to my chest. I need to care for my own unique brain and nervous system with tenderness (and good boundaries). And I need to process it with a lot of long walks by the lake.
When I care for myself first, dear reader, I am better able to offer the harvest of a well-nourished brain rather than a parched one that’s near its flash-point. I will share that harvest once its ready.
For now, though, I want to offer this… Though I don’t enjoy pain any more than the next person, I know there’s something really juicy emerging from this. I know that the pain showed me something really important and future-me will be grateful for the learning.
I wonder what pain points are showing up for you, dear reader, and what information might be available to you. How is the pain revealing your own needs, limitations and boundaries? And how is it showing you the ways that the world might not have been designed for the kind of unique brain, body, or heart that is YOU? What might it be telling you about the ways you need to care for yourself to better equip you for navigating spaces that are challenging for you?
Perhaps you want to explore those pain points in the safety of a tender circle of like-hearted people. Perhaps you want some guides and supports for this exploration. If so, I would love to have you join us for Know Yourself, Free Yourself. It’s less a course than it is a tender circle of care, where we collectively seek more tenderness and liberation.
P.S. In case you’re worried that the brain-burnout I’m talking about in this post will limit my capacity to host the course, let me set your mind at ease. This course (and the conversations I know we’ll have in the circle) is like rain on the parched landscape of my brain. Leading the course (with the support of Krista) nourishes and replenishes me – the complete opposite of a visit to the motor vehicle registration office. If you have an overly-taxed brain too, won’t you join us for some nourishment?