Reality, The Ego, The Mind

Enlightenment, Equality, & Egolessness

The fact is that insanity is everywhere. Our very society is held together by this common insanity, and if we were to collectively become sane, this way of doing things would come undone.

We usually think of “falling apart” or “collapsing” as a negative thing. But what about in the case of a fire burning away a dead forest in order to give rise to new, healthier growth? What about a human suffering a breakdown to emerge as a healer or simply as an awake version of his/her prior self? (Also, there is no rise to glory post-enlightenment, though the ego loves this idea.) What about demolishing a diseased, cockroach-infested hotel to install a beautiful park that everyone could enjoy? Such would be the result of all humans waking up to reality, from stepping outside of our constant, delusive streams of thought.

I am not talking about the commonly-thought of cyclical nature of the world. This would imply that we should allow our system to fall and then rebuild a “new,” “better” one. This would only be more delusion. Yes, it would go a long way for us to implement policies such as universal basic income, healthcare for all, paid maternity leave, immigration wherever forever, upheaval of the social order, etc. But even these things will not make us free and sane. They can improve our external situations, but they cannot free us.

The only way we will survive is if we do not construct yet another “system” when this one collapses. Until we are completely awake on our own, the hivemind comes to rule the individual mind. In this way, humans come to serve the machine rather than the other way around, and then, in addition to being enslaved to our minds, we are enslaved to this machine. We depend on it for our very survival even though it’s killing us. All that, and we can’t stop thinking! This is double-enslavement, inner and outer, and each form depends on the other.

The good news is that we can can escape both simultaneously. How do we do this? We realize the Truth; we see what’s right in front of us and always has been; we become actual humans. This realization should not result in an immature rant about other humans as “sheep,” because if we catch ourselves criticizing the way “others” live and think, we are just as delusional as those we find so stupid. On the way to the Truth, we often do this. “Others” are eternally irritating and impossible (see “Hell is other people,” by Jean-Paul Sartre).

But in reality, no thought is less delusional than any other, and no thought is closer to the Truth than any other. Reality is only ever seen completely or laid over with the filmy screen of the thinky mind.

#

The way is simple, but not necessarily easy: We must learn to interrupt our patterns of thought and do this over and over until we’re timelessly awake. I am definitely not always 100% awake, and the choices I make (not to mention the way I feel) during my less-than-fully-conscious moments tend to be regrettable at best and clinically insane at worst. Multiply that by 7 billion and we have an idea of why the world looks the way it does.

We are unconscious, even as our minds insist “we are awake.” Wakefulness is not about having the thought “I am awake.” It is not about being aware of worldly problems, forming complex opinions about said problems, and defending these opinions to death. It is about being in a space outside of thought, lucid and alert in this moment now. (Sidebar: It’s amazing how often you can read cliche phrases like this in spiritual literature and still not see what is meant. When you do, you realize that there actually is no better way to put it.) It is knowing thought is there and utilizing it as necessary, but not taking it seriously, not letting it suck you in.

Without seeing the insanity we allow to control us, we are destined to keep repainting our jail cells and calling it “progress.”

#

We should not make the mistake of thinking we can eradicate certain parts of our current social mode while holding onto those parts we find personally agreeable. The whole thing leans in on itself like a teepee. If one pole is removed, the others fall, too.

For instance: We cannot realize equality of the sexes if any other part of the social hierarchy is still in place. By this I mean that femininity and masculinity, as principles, would be regarded as equally important to the world. The nurturance, softness, and beauty generally associated with femininity would have to be seen as exactly as vital and respectable as the assertiveness, hardness, and “provider” features of masculinity. (Of course, masculinity and femininity do not always correspond to biological sex, and we all have some amount of both.)

As it stands, our system sees feminine attributes as “fluff.” For women to succeed, they often have to forsake femininity altogether. This is a tragedy borne only out of a deep-seated egoic desire for men to be “more powerful” than women. This desire is a form of madness, and this is known on a deep level. Seeing and fearing that they truly are not more powerful—based on the simple fact that women and men depend on each other to exist—the longstanding, systematic subjugation of women began.

Warmth and nurturance are things all humans need. Without them, we die in infancy, and yet we treat such qualities as secondary to being financially savvy or competitive. Can we even imagine how different this world would look if we valued femininity in such a way? Nothing of this way of life could be preserved if these things were held in actual, equal importance.

We will have to bravely accept the complete dissolution of our society if we desire equality. Dissolution does not have to mean chaos and destruction, only a clear movement towards harmony and a respect for the Whole. Civilization as we know it has rebuffed these things in order to exist at all.

We can make the necessary changes as easy or as difficult on ourselves as we want. The harder we cling to thought and illusion, the more difficult it will be.

#

A favorite Zen quote: “Equality without differentiation is bad equality; differentiation without equality is bad differentiation.”

Right now we sort of have differentiation, but without equality. (Our differentiation is also sub-par because we tend to lump whole groups of people together even though each human is a unique entity.) We see each other’s differences, and then go on to place each other into categories, usually based on their usefulness to our own egos.

We often see ourselves and one another as means to an end: How can this person get me money? How can my partner make me feel loved and special? How can my relationships and conversations inflate my ego? (This kind of thought would actually take a lot of awareness.) How can that guru get me enlightenment? In short, the sad mode we operate in is this: “How can I use everything and everyone to get to something better?”

This kind of thinking is very common and problematic. It’s important that we notice when we’re doing it. It presupposes “more important” people who can get us to “better” things. Any notion of “better/worse,” “higher/lower” is hierarchical and hierarchies are the obvious enemy of true equality. Even thinking, “how can enlightenment get us to equality?” is a reflection of the delusive way of thinking. It sees some concept of “enlightenment” (which is anything but a concept) as a stepping stone to something else, when there is nowhere else but here.

The very notion of “equality” is not based on “equal opportunity.” This is a nice-sounding phrase that does nothing because it’s all wrapped up in capitalism. It assumes we want to take part in these competitive, soulless systems. (I, for one, do not.) It assumes we believe that the right arrangement (job, benefits, vacations, and stuff) can bring us happiness, and that we are all excited and willing to spend our lives chasing such an arrangement. This notion of “equal opportunity” implies that we’ve already bought into way more delusions than I could even begin to list.

Equality is actually based on recognizing the literal sameness that lies within you and every other being. Underneath everything, this there is this sameness. There is an animating force, a living, dynamic thing that imbues everyone and everything. Everything else that is not this thing—Reality, Truth, pure consciousness, what-have-you—is a fleeting illusion.

And illusion doesn’t mean bad… unless we make it that way. Many humans, rooted in complete egoic unconsciousness, have made (and continue to make) this thing into something that can be very bad.

#

We must keep close in mind that true equality requires egolessness. “Me” and “you” must disappear conceptually so that we can see what it is that’s actually equal underneath these constructs. You look in front of you and see that it’s all still there (your body an another’s), but all you’re doing is seeing these things. You are not placing labels on everyone and everything; you’re only seeing.

In time, we learn to look right in front of us and see that our separation isn’t really there. And there may be times along the path that you feel like you actually do not exist, or that “you” are being destroyed. I’m not going to bullshit you: It’s scary! Death is an experience we instinctively avoid. You can get severely insane trying to preserve this sense of self. This insanity, on a low, background level, is the one we almost all suffer from. It can become acute, however, and this is usually where “psychotic episodes” occur.

And yet, after such an experience, we can come away with something very valuable: The lived understanding that at our very cores, underneath physical appearance, thought, and story, we are not separate or different. At the deepest level, we do not even retain individual souls (the “special individual soul” idea is another thing that the ego delights in). This is what equality means. From this mindset, giving to another is giving to you; liberating yourself is to liberate all of humanity. They are us, we are them, and this is literal. We are all inhaling each other’s exhalations, and separation is neat mental trick we learn to stop taking so seriously.

#

The constructs of “me” and “you” fall apart if you start to analyze them psychologically: What exactly makes “you,” you? Your personality, your history, your beliefs? What if you have a brain injury and your personality changes? What if you were to cease believing in your personal history, or if you could no longer remember it? And don’t beliefs change when we’re open-minded people?

If we follow this line of thinking down, we will say there’s just an “essence” about us and others, some type of energetic signature we can detect that is unique to every individual. Fair enough. I very much enjoy my friends and family members’ unique energies, but we should not fool ourselves into believing even these essences are unchanging, eternal, and separate. One day we’ll all die, and where will those “essences” be? What happens when there are no humans left to hold in memory the energetic qualities of those they loved? This is similar to the “individual soul” idea, which, while ego-pleasing, is actually groundless in the end.

The physical body (ultimately held together by who-knows-what) is the only thing holding this “you” in place. And yet, on an atomic level, if we were to hold hands, we would not be able to tell where my hand ended and yours began. (Any sciencey people, please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.) If “me” and “you” have no grounding psychologically and no grounding on the furthest physical level, where exactly do “we” exist?

The answer is nowhere at all.

– Lish

Standard
"Levels", Mental Health, Reality, Spirituality, The Ego

The “Unplanned” Awakening

An uncontrollable pull towards higher consciousness is the defining feature of a spiritual awakening. (Actually, the defining moment is the “click,” the actual “moment of waking up” that occurs for reasons I can’t explain. There isn’t much more I have to say about the “click,” at least not right now.)

I’d like to address why I have chosen to use the phrase “higher consciousness.” I’m not a huge fan of a hierarchical concept of consciousness because it immediately invites the ego to compare “its level” to that of those around us. We often want to know where we are on the scale, affirming that we are above some, like our parents and/or annoying co-workers maybe, but below others, like saints and realized mystics. Unless we remain vigilant, visualizing a hierarchy of consciousness tends to reinforce the mindset that we are better or worse than others. The conditioning that goes into imagining ourselves as better/worse than others is very deep-seated, and requires diligence to overcome. There is a lot of habit energy bound up in this way of thinking, so it takes a lot of fresh awareness to alter.

And when we get down to it, pure consciousness is not rooted in ideas of “higher” and “lower;” it cannot be “thought to,” and it cannot be defined. It simply is. All attempts to define consciousness fail immediately and always will, because definitions serve to create something static, and consciousness is not static… except it is, in a way, but also always moving. This thing is beyond both chaos and order; beyond movement and stillness. The experience of it does feel supremely still compared to the frequent inner chatter that often reigns in the mind, but it is also ever-flowing, not inert.

20170921_144447

From Basic Teachings of the Buddha, by Glenn Wallis.

And yet it still feels important to say that awakening pulls one towards “higher” consciousness, simply because that is my lived experience of awakening. When I am really here, I feel unquestionably higher than when I am bound up in habits (higher than before, not “superior to others.”). It feels undeniably better to rise each morning without a hangover, sit down, light some incense, and come back to the home in my heart than to repeatedly harm myself. Speaking of higher/lower in this way is not a moral judgment call, but a statement on how differently we can feel and live. It is about the experience of life becoming richer, more free, and more joyful, versus more trapped, more isolated, and more cravey.

There is suffering and not suffering. There is the feeling of being mired in past events, allowing old events/interactions to haunt us, and there is having personal power right now. If you try both of these experiences on, it becomes very clear which is more preferable, AKA “higher.”

Additionally: without the understanding that expanding our consciousness can result in a better direct experience of life, what would our motivation to do it be? This thing will not get us money. It will not get us fame, power, popularity, or any other tangible reward. It will not even “save the world.” In the beginning, we trust our intuition that there’s something greater than these things to attain to (or else we would never let go of our desires for such things), and there is.

#

Awakening can happen whether the unconscious ego likes it or not, and whether or not we went looking for it. The unconscious ego may really, really not like it. The difficulties that can arise when the ego is resistant to its illusory nature, of course, may all be part of what you need to grow, but man, they can also be really rough. You can make things easier on yourself by not denying or resisting that you’ve woken up. This can only happen if we are aware that it has happened to us.

This was one of the main reasons why “my” awakening (which I put in quotes because it is not really “mine” to take credit for) was so incredibly fraught with chaos, confusion, and humiliation. At the time of the “click,” I didn’t even know things like ego deaths were possible. Throughout my education, I don’t believe we ever discussed the possibility of psychosis being thought of as a “spiritual emergency.” The message here is loud and clear: Smart, educated people understand that brain chemicals and genetics are “real,” and all that spiritual stuff is “not real,” or, at best, it’s still “less real” than science. (One of the most amazing and frustrating things about waking up is that you find literally the exact opposite to be true, but, I digress.)

I had meditated only a handful of times, and then stopped, because I wasn’t ready. There were times when I felt heavily bombarded with the reality of death as an abstract idea sometime in “the future,” and this bombardment gave me intense hits of anxiety, usually when I was trying to get to sleep. Still, I somehow always managed to sidestep this thought, get out of bed in the morning, and continue on in life as usual (“as usual” was with great suffering and anger, btw.) Part of this, again, occurred because that’s what I chose for myself, albeit unconsciously: This was what I needed to end up in this exact place right now.

But on a worldly level, it’s been difficult because spiritual/existential matters are are pushed very var away from the collective mind. We don’t sincerely talk about these things. We tend to dismiss them as unimportant and/or avoid them completely. These are uncomfortable conversations most of us shy away from, the result of being repeatedly conditioned to believe that engaging with such thoughts is “heavy,” “morbid,” or simply unnecessary. This is because a lot of us do not understand our own existences, and it feels more important that we take care of our material needs (for many, this is a real concern), and/or more pleasurable to remain caught up in whatever-else we talk and think about. I definitely still fall prey to this temptation, just like I do to the temptation of pumpkin cupcakes.

However, in many parts of the world, material needs are not really a concern anymore. Humans are so far beyond needing to worry about their survival needs, and therefore it follows that our energy should be expended to consider other matters. Why do we not turn towards life’s ultimate concerns once shelter, food, and safety are obtained?

20170908_082306

From Thich Nhat Hanh’s Silence.

The answer lies in that conditioned discomfort with matters of life and death, along with a persistent feeling that there must be “more” we have to get and achieve before we’re ready to pursue things of the existential nature. Our culture is very good at engendering this kind of insecurity and providing us with distractions even if we do feel “secure enough.” It can feel as if we are living in one tremendous practice ground, trying to stave off mindless entertainment and other indulgences left and right.

Many of us do not really feel safe, even if we have plenty of material comforts. We are often on guard about losing our jobs, our spouses, our friends, our money. The truth is that losing these things is certainly possible, and that nothing is guaranteed to us in life. Rather than face this fact and find solid ground within, we usually try to just keep everything on the outside “under control.” On some level, we’re  aware of the futility of these attempts to control life. “We” will not always exist, our jobs may become obsolete, we may get in a terrible accident or contract an irreversible illness, our relationships may become strained and distant, and there really isn’t anything we can do about these things.

And still, because these can be very uncomfortable realities to think about, we avoid them. Or, if we do acknowledge these truths, it’s fleeting and panicky. I’m not suggesting we sit around and ruminate on how we could lose everything anytime, nor that we sit around wishfully imagining how everything could “get better” in life. Both lines of thinking are out of touch with reality, even if the latter temporarily makes us feel better.

We must simply accept the impermanence of everything “out there.” Doing so makes a huge step towards inner stability, which is the only lasting stability we’ll ever find.

#

If you (like me) have/had an ego that was/is bound up in being overly-thinky, judgmental, and somewhat damaged, the process of awakening will probably be extremely intense. You’re trying to heal, make intellectual sense of the whole thing (you can’t), and perform daily obligations that suddenly feel ludicrous. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, but that is the nature of an unplanned awakening.

And it should be mentioned that all awakenings are “unplanned.” You cannot sit down with a calendar, plan on meditating for two years and then say “and then, on September 21st, 2019, I wake up.” The mind likes these kinds of “plans,” because then it feels like it’s “doing” something. It is much more unsettling (and exciting) to know that you could awaken at any moment, triggered by almost anything. We may not even experience it in this life, and that’s okay too, because we can still ameliorate our suffering by taking up certain practices. Turning awakening into a planned goal is understandable; the potential for it often gets us “on the path” in the first place. And yet, it is never something we can guarantee.

At best, we can prepare for it, so that the resulting changes are handled with skill and deep awareness.

– Lish

Standard
Mania, Medication, Mental Health, Reality, Well-being

The Nature of Bipolar Mania

I’ve said before (here and here) that mania, in my experience, can occur during rapid, unplanned expansions in consciousness. Such expansions can happen if the ego takes enough hits to temporarily collapse, or when we do something like quit drinking after years of substance abuse (or both!). 

In response, the ego tries to keep up, resulting in delusions, and the pain attempting to be healed during this expansion sometimes expresses itself in rage and violence, especially if our movement/freedom is restricted. We desperately need to discharge this energy somehow, and being locked up in confined spaces is not helpful. The way to navigate life after a manic episode is to train in traversing these variations in consciousness skillfully, rather than allowing them to control you. If these pieces alone were to be understood by mainstream psychiatry, it would be revolutionary for all those suffering from mental illness.

The structure of the ego and the underlying consciousness must be incorporated into our psychological theories, or else we will do nothing but put a Band-Aid on the issue. We will fall prey to the mistaken belief that long-term medication is what’s necessary for these people, when truly, at some point, medication actually blocks the individual from further healing for the simple fact that it blunts emotion. (There are those whose instability is so debilitating and chronic that I understand the need for this, but in the majority of cases—especially for depression and anxiety—long-term meds are ultimately unhelpful.)

Emotions must be fully felt and released (mentally, physically, and energetically) for us to move forward on our paths. This is a process that, as of today, is generally only assisted by shamans, spiritual teachers, yogis, and/or other “alternative practitioners.” These healers can be hugely beneficial, but they’re not the ones we’re turned over to in the midst of extreme crisis. Instead, we’re locked up in hospitals and then shuffled around amongst people who, in all likelihood, have very little understanding of the relationship between consciousness and mental illness. When you’re extremely fragile (as one tends to be fresh out of the mental hospital), nothing feels worse than a blank, “yeah, right” stare from a caseworker when you say you’re not really ill. This needs to change.

One of the most concerning aspects of psychiatry is that the people who have written descriptions of the various psychological maladies have generally not suffered a psychotic break/spiritual emergency for themselves. In psychiatric interviews/assessments, what this amounts to is a game of telephone wherein the patient tries to describe what they are feeling (these experiences are beyond words and thought). The doctor, with his/her intellectual faculties, chops the whole thing up into that which they and their colleagues can digest. Usually, they are also looking for specific illness features, thereby ruling out and/or ignoring the parts that don’t fit.

All they can do is take notes from the outside and compile a list of symptoms they are capable of discerning. Most psychiatrists have no idea how real these experiences are, and I mean that literally: Whatever we perceive is what “makes” our individual realities. What one may call “a hallucination” is just as real as everything you can currently sense. And, just as the Buddha (and many other spiritual teachers have alluded to), dreams are just as “real” as waking life… but now I’m getting off track.

This is not meant as a slight against such professionals; it is simple human nature. The problem arises when the patient’s experience is extremely different than what the practitioner is capable of understanding, and then the practitioner goes on to believe they know what’s best. While hospitalized, I was acutely aware that none of the doctors or nurses had any true knowledge of where I was at or what I was going through. It was infuriating and wrong to have such people in control of my care at a time when I needed something very different.

#

I’ve set out to explain a bit more about what the experience of mania like is from inside of it. It is my hope that this description might illuminate why a full-blown manic episode can be something far greater than a lapse into illness. Instead, when viewed through the right lens, it can be a catalyst towards growth, healing, and total potential.

The transition from a psychotic break/spiritual emergency to a balanced, higher state of consciousness can occur in two ways: 1. The patient is regarded with proper compassion towards their state of being, and gently guided to understand how a new path in life may be walked. This is not how the mentally ill are treated. As well-meaning as mental health practitioners are, they tend to be overworked, undercompensated, burnt out on empathy, and lacking the fundamental tools to care for their patients in the way they need. 2. After our episodes, we are thrust back into the “real world,” struggling to incorporate wtf just happened to us and left to fend for ourselves by way of research and alternative therapies (none of which are free or even covered by insurance in most cases.) I’m on route 2, because that’s the only route there is outside of the mainstream narrative.

What I’d like to see is all of our psychiatrists and psychologists sitting down at mandatory classes on consciousness so that we—the freshly released and deeply confused—at the very least come away with a modicum of hope for our futures. Instead we’re presented with statistics on what our “conditions” mean, encouraged to take medication we may not want to take, and surrounded by the fresh Hell we unconsciously created while in the throes of mania. This is at least part of why the fall back into depression occurs, and it’s so weird to me that this point tends to go ignored in the medical explanations of bipolar disorder.

If you lost control of your mind and behavior, making a fool of yourself and hurting people you loved, wouldn’t you get depressed? Wouldn’t you feel ashamed and lost? The depression that follows mania has much more to do with these factors than with a change in brain chemicals, or rather, the two accompany one another rather than the “misfiring brain” being the primary cause of suffering. Depression is a perfectly understandable emotion to follow such an episode, especially if the episode is seen as nothing but a sign of long-term illness. Labeling this depression another facet of the disease is straight-up dishonest.

A paradigm shift within psychiatry and psychology is the only way to improve this situation. It must take universal consciousness into account. Currently, we’re stuck at the levels of the brain (physiology and neurotransmitters, the science of which is not fully understood) and the mind (the thinking machine that only constitutes a small part of who we are.) Complete healing can only occur when deeper levels are included, including old energies that are frozen in the body, and particularly that timeless, limitless dimension we all have within us—the one I call “pure consciousness.”

#

Without further ado, here are the symptoms of bipolar mania as listed in the DSM-V (the handbook of mental disorders):

  1. Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity
  2. Decreased need for sleep (e.g., feels rested after only 3 hours of sleep)
  3. More talkative than usual or pressure to keep talking
  4. Flight of ideas or subjective experience that thoughts are racing
  5. Distractibility (i.e., attention too easily drawn to unimportant or irrelevant external stimuli)
  6. Increase in goal-directed activity (either socially, at work or school, or sexually) or psychomotor agitation
  7. Excessive involvement in pleasurable activities that have a high potential for painful consequences (e.g., engaging in unrestrained buying sprees, sexual indiscretions, or foolish business investments

This relatively short list does not even touch what it’s like for the person inside of it. Again, this is because the people who wrote the list are probably pretty underdeveloped spiritually (as our culture is overall), not to mention “illness-oriented.” In the West we do not view wellness and balance as a ladder we can climb to an incredible, all-seeing state. The best we can do is to lack any obvious illness and construct an effective ego. This is such a limited way to experience life. I wish I could share with you how much more amazing we could feel (and how this state would translate to the creation of a beautiful world), but alas, it’s a journey that must be walked by you and you alone.

Here are some of the additional components of mania that I experienced:

  • Beauty everywhere: Things are not simply beautiful; they are beauty itself. Every act, from shaking cinnamon into my coffee to seeing two deer playing in a graveyard, was meaningful and glorious. You become attuned to the miraculous nature of life itself.
  • Fresh, awake, alive: Think of the most refreshing sleep you’ve ever woken up from in your life. Multiply that by a thousand, and you have a faint idea of how clean and clear we can feel when manic. Life feels deeply fresh and new and fun. Each moment is a joy. Every cup of coffee felt like my first. These elements particularly line up with states of mind that are often discussed in high spiritual states.
  • Extreme, near-crippling empathy: Everyone becomes transparent. Their emotions are obvious and clear, and most of them are suffering, even if they’re unaware of/in denial of said suffering.
  • Heightened senses: There becomes a strange ability to tune into and become conscious of things you weren’t before. In the hospital, I watched and listened to two doctors talking about me behind the glass enclosure where the staff sit (which, by the way, wtf? It makes you feel like a zoo animal.). They were unaware that I was listening. Smells seemed to hang around a lot longer than usual, music contained riffs and melodies I’d never heard before, and every color became more vibrant.
  • Faster metabolism and other bodily processes: My toenails and hair grew faster. I was always hungry. I felt like I could run for miles and miles. It feels almost like the body is receiving some kind of “upgrade.”
  • Oscillations of burning and coolness: I’m not going to pretend I understand the way all of the energy involved in this process works, but I know it’s intense, and that it gets expressed in these kinds of sensations. I read, I believe in The Untethered Soul, something about “the yogic burn:” Old, negative energies are burning away as we heal un- and subconscious energies trapped in the body.
  • Tingling sensations: Along the same lines as above, I often felt tingles on my skin, particularly when I felt I was conversing with “god.” This “god” was, of course, me trying to cope with other parts of me, yet still the tingling during these times was significant.
  • Moving through the Universe: I felt certain that a version of me was going into a black hole. Kay Redfield Jamison, author of the widely celebrated memoir on bipolar disorder, An Unquiet Mind, describes the sensation of traversing out to Saturn.
  • An urgent desire to help: This feature is rarely mentioned, but it’s so important. Issues that we can easily shutter away on a day to day basis—poverty, environmental degradation, and abuse of all kinds everywhere—spring forth as deeply troubling. We feel like the only people concerned with these issues. It feels desperate and immediate, like we can’t handle the fact that everyone else is just walking around “fine” while so many people are dying and in pain. It is maddening, and we just want to do something.
  • Extreme frustration with the state of the world/the lower levels of consciousness: It all just felt like it was happening too slow. I was ready for everyone to just drop their bullshit—all the stories they tell themselves about why we cannot live peaceably amongst one another and with the rest of nature, every lie they live that keeps them unwittingly enslaved. I wanted everyone to just “get it:” Life is beautiful and we are all each other! It felt like absolutely no one else really understood.
  • Complete understanding: You can’t explain it, because it’s beyond words. So you try, and you sound insane. For example, I told the designated mental health practitioner at the hospital that “I knew all the secrets of the Universe.”

These additional features of mania may help us understand that it goes much further than what the DSM-V shows. A manic episode—and/or a collapse of the ego—can be seen as an individual’s attempt towards growth and wholeness, not simply a manifestation of latent, underlying “illness.”

From Yoga & Psychotherapy, The Evolution of Consciousness:

“But an acute psychotic episode may represent an attempt—however misguided—to break free of one’s limitations and come to terms with aspects of himself that were repressed. From the point of view of the growth process, such a person should not be considered “sick” if he is actively reorganizing and evolving. This point has been dramatically made by R.D. Laing who has said: ‘… to be mad is not necessarily to be ill. If the ego is broken up or destroyed… then the person may be exposed to other worlds ‘real’ in different ways from the more familiar territory of dreams, imagination, perception…’”

Of course, many psychotic people are not actively “reorganizing and evolving,” and for them, radically different care should be given. It certainly did not appear that way when I was psychotic, and yet, I have since embraced the process of evolution and continue on the path towards higher consciousness today. There are several factors that can help everyone resume with growth, thereby letting go of depression, neuroses, anxiety, etc, and I encourage deep and honest inquiry into these various paths if you wish to be free of suffering.

Short of having a spiritual awakening, which isn’t something “we” can ever guarantee will happen in this life, accepting that our psychological maladies can be part of a much greater and more beautiful process would be an excellent start.

– Lish

Standard
Addiction, Mental Health, Spirituality, Well-being

Why I Won’t Call Myself “an Alcoholic”

For as loaded as this topic is, it feels pretty simple: I don’t drink because drinking seriously harmed my life. If I hadn’t made the choice to stop, alcohol would have easily destroyed my chances for joy and well-being, if not outright killed me. And yet, I don’t use the word “alcoholic” or “addict” to describe myself, and I never will.

Here’s why:

1: The word is seriously stigmatized. Even as the recovery community has sought to be recognized as people with illnesses, addiction just isn’t viewed the same as other diseases. If you’re an “addict,” you aren’t just suffering from the disease of extreme attachment to a substance to the point of self-destruction, you’re also generally deemed a selfish and defective individual. This isn’t my personal assessment, by the way, but a general sentiment I’ve read in various forums and books. Addiction is largely seen as an illness of the soul that encompasses the entirety of one’s being, not simply an illness they “have.”

If you’re diagnosed with an autoimmune disease or cancer, people aren’t likely to think that means you’re a Shitty Person. And yet, this is what we do with addicts/alcoholics. Being labeled in such a way adds yet another layer of shame to the addicted person, who no doubt has become addicted precisely because they feel defective and shameful. Nobody starts numbing out unless they have something they need to numb (again, for some of us, this may “just” be the pain of growing up in a culture that constantly communicates to us that we’re worthless unless…).

While using, addicts can appear selfish because they are deeply isolated and in pain. They know what they’re doing sucks, they don’t want to face the people they love because they feel so self-loathing, and they’re so busy unconsciously trying to tend to their wounds that they cannot psychologically afford to reach out. For an addict, the entire orientation to the world is rooted in shame and pain, so reinforcing the idea that we are, simply by virtue of “being addicts,” defective and egotistical is probably the most harmful idea we can instill in someone seeking to recover.

I don’t accept the label because it comes with a lot of baggage I have no desire to wrestle with anymore. I won’t take on more shame. I won’t take on more pain. These are the exact things that drove me to medicate with alcohol in the first place, so, no thanks.

2: Internally I strive to hold to no label, even (maybe especially) that of “a spiritual person.” As soon as we cling to our identities, we unconsciously act in ways that uphold those identities, therefore becoming limited and less “ourselves.” Rigid identities keep us all, well, rigid. The more identifications we’re attached to (including ideologies, which the mind loves to get fundamentalist about), the more we will defend them, keeping ourselves closed off from others.

On some level, we tend to believe that others can’t understand us unless they share similar identities. This is just false false false. The soul in all of us is so much deeper than the labels we cling to for safety. The more I get caught up in thinking that I can best connect with “sober women writers with an interest in consciousness and collective healing,” the more I remove myself from the very basic connection I have to all human beings. For most of my life, I felt like “healthy,” “well-adjusted” people could never “get me.” This belief limited me and them, and I never want to fall into the trap of thinking “I have nothing in common” with anyone ever again. We are all humans, and therefore we must have a ton in common.

So I try not to think of myself as a writer, or spiritual, or even a woman if I can help it (though the world does a pretty good job of reminding me that I am one every day.) So, even though it feels important for me to acknowledge my body’s inborn tendencies to become attached (i.e. addicted) to All Things Pleasurable, I remember that I am a changeable being not enslaved by these tendencies. Claiming that one simply “is” an addict/alcoholic is a static label, when in reality we are all very fluid, flexible, and capable of becoming new.

Part of that newness is actually losing the desire for things like drugs and alcohol. Rejecting this label does not mean we are in “denial,” or that we are doomed to use again.

3: Our culture’s relationship to alcohol is what’s wrong, not me. This one’s a little paradoxical, because as we grow, we come to see how deeply responsible we (as individuals) are for shaping the surrounding culture. “Culture”—i.e. The Machine™—is not something “out there” to rage against. (As much as I love that band, they were missing this crucial piece.) You are it. You are creating it with every interaction and choice that you make. Every system is made up of parts, and if those parts transform themselves, the system follows.

However, in the beginning, it is extremely empowering to recognize that “your drinking problem” stems from something much bigger than you being diseased and made of faulty wiring. Not that I really give a shit about the economy, but alcohol dependence costs the economy something like $220 billion, not to mention tens of thousands of lives. Most people do not drink the “recommended” amount of alcohol, and to be real, no amount of alcohol is healthy. It’s poison. It lowers consciousness. It feels “fun” because it helps us get out of our minds. If we were capable of transcending our minds at any moment, alcohol would feel like child’s play. (I’m not trying to be a party pooper, but, that’s all true stuff.)

I refuse to give myself a label we collectively pity when all around me I see people suffering and self-medicating in a variety of ways. And that is the “normal” way to live, by the way: To continually distract ourselves from our inner worlds by way of chasing success, going on vacations, taking on projects, binge-watching, and otherwise “being busy.” If we were to drop these things and sit with ourselves, we would certainly feel a shift (I do not mean to imply this shift would feel good at first). We would have to face the insanity being acted out by our untrained minds and realize there’s a torrent of bullshit we need to work through in there. This kind of shift is exactly what we need.

It seems that a lot of people are experiencing such a shift now, which is pretty exciting. But, as evidenced by the state of the world, we can see that we’re still in the beginning phases of this step for our species. There is still time for us to fuck it up, or to get real with ourselves. We always have this choice.

4: Whether or not one is an “alcoholic” or a “normie”* means very little in terms of their overall wellness. When I was drinking heavily, I still exercised, ate relatively well (okay except when I was super hungover; then I became a bottomless pit of Mac n Cheese and ice cream), and by many social parameters, I seemed okay. Spoiler alert: I was totally not okay. I was emotionally fragile and hurt and confused and insecure. Oh, and I was angry at almost everything. I had no idea wtf life was all about or if it even mattered. I almost never felt connected to others. I was not well, but still, drinking was symptomatic of my underlying dis-ease, not the actual Problem. This overall dis-ease is a defining feature of Western culture. People cover up this dis-ease in a variety of ways (see above); becoming addicted to alcohol is just one of the easiest (and most humiliating) outlets for us since it’s legal and socially acceptable.

In this world, “normies” can easily get by being totally underdeveloped, spiritually and emotionally, and can even do pretty well for themselves (Exhibit A: The current presidential administration). “Alcoholics” can do this, too. A person by either label can also find themselves mired in depression, anxiety, and isolation. Out of two people, one of who is a “normie” and the other an “alcoholic,” we have no idea who is doing the inner work. It’s just not enough information to know what’s going on inside of someone, and given the state of humanity, it really doesn’t mean much.

Someone can be actively drinking while still working out their issues. (For at least a year, I drank even as I journaled, came to understand spirituality, and engaged in self-inquiry.) Someone can be sober and Way Fucked Up.

*I’d like to point out that this dichotomy—either you’re normal or you’re an alcoholic—is super crazy and Not Real.

5: There is no evidence that going by this name will help me stay sober. The jury is still out on how effective AA is, but here’s my evidence that it isn’t: My dad’s dead from addiction, and he went to meetings. Maybe that sounds irrational, but but I’m totally okay with being irrational on this issue. I often wonder ifhad addiction been understood and treated compassionately, outside of the “diseased individual” narrativehe might still be alive.

AA’s Big Book puts it’s success rate is at 50 percent. Even more worrisome is that through this lens, it’s the addict who is considered a “failure” if the program doesn’t work. Do we all see how insane this is? There is no other disease we do this with. If someone’s chronic illness flares up, we acknowledge that they may need a different treatment for it; we don’t blame the ill individual for their “failure.”

For something that affects us as hugely as addiction does, the most common treatment modality (AA, NA, CA, SLAA, etc.), should work more than half the time. So that’s a turn off, plus, that whole step where I’m supposed to go even further into how much of a defective character I am for relying on alcohol to ease my pain/social functioning has made it entirely unappealing. I assume that most addicts constantly think about how much of a defective character they are every day; this is why they continue to use! I’ve hated myself long enough, thankyouverymuch.

In spite of everything I just wrote, I’m really not here to tear down AA. My attitude, for myself and for the whole world, is to simply do what works. If AA works for you or someone you know, that’s great. But I’ve read some of the AA rhetoric, and it just isn’t for me, especially since there’s no conclusive body of evidence saying “this is your best bet.” The sad fact of AA is that it’s kind of our only bet, since insurance usually doesn’t pay for other forms of addiction treatment (for reasons of whatthefuckwhy?). Through such a view, my only hope for recovery is to admit to being an alcoholic, work the steps, and maybe recover, my odds being one in two(!). (This is the bipolar thing all over again, btw.)

Or I could just not take on the “alcoholic” label, grow in my own way, and really, actually recover because I know what’s best for me. I’m going with option two, and so far, I’m feeling better than ever.

6: If I ever choose to have a beer, I’m not going to fall into the “now I’m a relapsing failure” mindset. The glory of being sober for me now is this: I really don’t want to drink. It’s not a craving I’m constantly beating back, I’m not white-knuckling it through karaoke nights and parties, and it generally isn’t even something I think about very much anymore. I feel awesome about it.

Even though I’m happily sober, my identity isn’t wrapped up in being “a recovering alcoholic.” It’s more like “hey, drinking didn’t serve me in any way, so I finally decided to cut it out.” But when you have no particular identity or tribe caught up in your sobriety (which I don’t, except a small gang of social media peeps), I can see how one might just up and decide to have a beer one day. (The tribe element of AA is one that I really understand the appeal of.)

At this point, I feel like I’m only slightly more likely to drink a beer than I am to take a shot of gasoline. But for the sake of this reason, let’s suppose I do. Let’s suppose I step outside of the serious, sober mindset I live in now (a mindset I’m hoping to gradually expand out of into one that is less serious, btw), and for whatever reason, have an IPA. What now?

The narrative of alcoholism says I will be under the table and blacked out shortly after this first drink, and that I have to start back at day zero. The word “relapse” is assigned to my choice, which is a pretty loaded word. I’d have to tirelessly review what went wrong, and usually, I’d beat myself up for it. I cannot imagine a more harmful way to treat someone who has started using again.

If you’re conditioned to immediately feel like a diseased failure because you have a slip, you’re much more likely to spiral out of control. I won’t let my mind do that to me. Everything I do that isn’t in full alignment ought to be accepted for what it is (a blip on the radar of my overall growth), and moved forward from. New moment, new me, every single day. Having a slip wouldn’t undercut all the work I’ve done to explore and dispel my reasons for self-abuse, and it definitely wouldn’t mean I’m back to where I was before. Underneath the outward decision to have a drink, I’d still know so much more about myself than when I was drinking all the time. I definitely would want to look into whatever sneaky things my mind was doing that provoked the choice, but dwelling on it and/or feeling like shit for it would guarantee only more pain, and probably more drinking.

If we wish to heal—truly heal, not just accumulate x number of days sober—we must wake up to the reality that the word “alcoholic” (and everything we’re conditioned to think it means) actually serves us very little.

– Lish

Standard