An unexpected difficulty of aging

It’s hard to pull all of this apart and see what’s actually what in the context of the last 9 years we’ve had. Regardless, we are living through/in these times and we’re aging . And I know to age is to live, so please don’t come at me with the basics. It’s like telling an anxious person to “calm down” or a depressed person “to do something fun.”

It’s one thing to be looking in the mirror and noticing a drooping eye lid, a softening neck, lines here and there. But lately what’s really getting to me is a deep sense of failure and a lack of time to really do anything about it.

I’ve spent too much of my life (and I know many who can relate to this) fighting depression and anxiety and trauma. So much of my energy has been stolen by trying to survive those things. And if you think of money in terms of not just the dollars spent on therapy and interventions but money not made because of illness, well, it’s also cost me a small fortune and therefore a sense of stability as I age.

I’m feeling a lot of rage over that lately. But there’s more.

I’m feeling so much rage and grief over missed opportunities. Avenues not taken because I was just trying to live. Talents not fully explored. Potential not fully known.

Dance not danced. Books not written. And so much more. All because I had so many years during which I could barely function much less thrive.

I’m angry, indeed. I did not choose this brain nor early experiences that exacerbated the tendencies of this brain. And many things did not just happen but were done. (More anger.)

And now at the age of 56, I am still fighting this fight that should not be any of ours. I am not as stuck and struck down as I was during most of my 30s, but I am not in the healthy place I was in my middle to late 40s.

During that breathing space of years, all the work I had done was finally paying off.

Then we entered the years of hate and vile government and sickness and cruelty exposed in people around us and my brain, prone to deep grief and sadness from early on, did not have the tools some have. The old coping mechanisms — the unhealthy coping mechanisms of staying still and drowning in despair over things I cannot change — all reemerged with a vigor I never thought I would see or experience again in myself.

The devastation of that alone… the thought that I had healed or gotten to a place of high level management of my chronic illnesses and then to backslide as the world got (and continues to get) uglier and uglier.

I am enraged and I am sad and I am at a loss for words to explain this feeling of utterly being let down by the world and by myself.

I have no answers, so if you’re reading this thinking you recognize what I’m writing about and wondering what conclusions I’ve come to, I apologize. I have nothing. Not yet.

Though I will keep fucking trying… as annoying as I find that sometimes about myself… I will not give up, and I will not stay silent about this, sitting in some sort of shame that makes me feel I am alone when I know full well I am not alone and maybe, just maybe, in community, we can figure this shit out.

Introducing quickie yoga for your neurospicy brain

Or rather, introducing a reframing of quickie yoga in a way that tells its story better. We’ve been doing this work all along but now I’ll be bringing it to the forefront. Go here to register for March.

As always, these classes can be done live or with the videos on your own. And this 30 minute quickie, focused format works, I think, really well on video.

As we focus on what I’m calling “STIM YOGA for your neurospicy brain”, we’ll be bringing in a lot of the usual suspects and then some: multiple lineages of yoga, basics from primal movement, basics from systems like tai chi, somatic movement, breath work to match it all, and anything else I happen to be learning and is floating my (brain) boat. ((ha))

This is for those of us who struggle with focus, inner balance, peace, and nervous systems that tend toward anxious. You know where to find me if you have any questions.

Morgenmuffels UNITE! Or the Meeting of the Morning Nutbags, a Free Group

To say that photo represents me in the morning would not be inaccurate. Me and morning have never been best friends. I got kinda better about mornings in the year or so before I met Craig and then when I first met him. But I was only kinda more friendly with morning because it was a time in my life when I was feeling so happy and energetic that I didn’t need as much sleep as I always have.

And by always, I mean always. Ask my mother. She’ll tell you that I slept over eight hours the first night home from the hospital. I slept so well and so regularly when I was a newborn that they, very young parents, were worried and took me to the doctor, who basically said, “CONGRATULATIONS!”

But then Craig came along and worked crazy hours and even now gets up at about 4:30 (AM!) to have time for coffee and the gym before starting work at 6:15 AM. He is a freaking morning person, for sure. Though he’ll weirdly deny that.

With his crazy hours, my own schedule got so thrown off that I no longer know what the heck I am. I know I do not like falling asleep before 11, that’s for sure.

Add in the pandemic and then Peony’s death and me and sleep have resorted back to kinda frenemies, not to mention how much worse morning has gotten.

Something had to change. I kept putting it off but I knew the answer. I just didn’t want to face and DO the answer. Let’s back up.

Neurodivergence and routines and change

I’ve wanted a new morning routine because I knew it affected the rest of my day.

Pre-Craig, I would get up and immediately take a shower and then sit and read and write and meditate/pray a bit. This worked beautifully and led to the rest of my day flowing naturally and easily from that start. I had kinda… monasticized my life.

Here’s another part of the equation: my weird brain has a hard time getting started. Whether it be the day or a project or whatever… getting started is hard.

YET routine is super important to my weird brain.

OY! I was caught in this kind of loop of not getting started and needing new routines to get started but not being able to start new routines.

TikTok to the Rescue

One of my favorite areas of TikTok is the neurodivergent creators. SO HELPFUL.

And I kept hearing about this concept of “body doubling.”

I also came upon the concept of “catalyst.” It’s how a different sort of brain needs something to get it started and that’s unique for everyone and figuring that out is key.

AH-HA Moment

I awoke with a start: OTHER PEOPLE ARE MY CATALYST!

Yep… duh.

Feeling responsible to other people (in the good way) is what makes me Do the Things.

This also incorporates body doubling. Just sitting with someone else while they write, for example, gets me writing.

A Free Zoom Group is Born and You Can Join

I put out a call. Was there anyone else who was struggling with a new morning routine, whether that mean starting your day with writing, art, meditation, movement, reading, whatever.

A few people said YES, PLEASE, and so we started.

I cannot overemphasize how profoundly this has impacted my life from moment one.

It works. Period.

I get up because I have to shower before I get on zoom and then I get everything ready and start the meeting at 8 AM. I wait until 8:05 and then we all go mute (you can also not have your camera on).

And we work. Together. But silently.

Until about 8:30 when I call time. (This is Eastern time.)

And from there, my day just GOES. I have gotten more done in the couple of days we’ve been doing this than probably the last MONTH.

I move more. I write more. My brain feels way more cooperative. I am getting downloads of ideas again. I’m reading more.

If you want in, just give me a yell.

OH! And during my reading the first day, I came upon this quote. We’re not a “buddhist community” but you get it:

“This involvement in a Buddhist community is invaluable to anyone wishing to take his or her practice seriously, and life as a Buddhist can be very difficult without regular contact with such a Sangha.”

Amen. Life as a human can be very difficult without regular contact with such a devoted and compassionate community.