Watching the Egoic Mind

The ego is the most misunderstood and underappreciated concept in the history of human evolution. This word gets thrown about casually all the time. Many people believe they have a hold on this notion, and perhaps they do on an intellectual level. However, intellectual understanding is not what we are after on the path. This is because intellectual understanding will not free you or reintroduce you to the Self.

As I’ve said, I once loved deep philosophical discourseor rather it felt “deep” because the mind was busy tying itself into ever-tightening knots. The depths of ourselves are not actually known until the egoic mind begins to thin. All of my conversations occurred while the core questions, “Who is speaking? Who even are we?” went ignored and/or unanswered. Intellectual conversations carry on like this all the time.

The reason for such misunderstanding is because 99% of what we hear, think, and talk about comes from the ego itself. In this post I am going to refer to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave* and compare it to the experience of living inside the egoic identity versus seeing through it and to the Self.

*The Wikipedia link says that the allegory is about “the effect of education and the lack of it on our nature.” But the allegory is not about education in terms of mental knowledge or accumulation of worldly facts. One with a Ph.D in theology is no closer to Truth than a farmer who dropped out of high school.

The allegory is about self-knowledge. It is about the way we can come to know true reality as opposed to what most of us accept as “reality” without looking very far inward. The allegory has survived for so long in the collective consciousness precisely because it is about the egoic mind, not “education” in the modern sense.

Most often, when we say we understand ourselves or others, it is ego talking about ego. Here we are still in the cave, theorizing about the light outside rather than just walking out into it. If we once had a spiritual experience, we might be remembering what it was like to be out there for a split second: Spacious, peaceful, open, clear. It is much rarer for one to walk outside the cave and never look back. I would like to see it become much less rare.

And it is almost only the “bad” human qualities we attribute to ego. We think it only means arrogance, greed, hot-headedness, and an inflated sense of importance. And while these traits surely do stem from an unexamined ego, they alone are not an accurate description of what an “ego” is or its effects on the being.

Here is the simplest description of your ego: It’s your false identity. It is a construct (truly just a thought) made up of personal history, belief systems, and group affiliations. It is a collection of labels and stories that have been assigned to you since (or even before) birth. You have taken on these labels and stories unconsciously, and believe they are what “you” are.

This falsenesssomething that is a clever lieis driving nearly all of our thoughts and actions in this world. Do we understand now how the world has gotten into the shape it is in? We live upon it while believing unquestioningly in a huge lie. This lie is so obvious it goes overlooked all the time.

Just for fun, pay close attention to the next new person you meet. Most of the time, if you ask them about themselves, they will launch right into their ego-story: “I am John, I work at a pharmacy, I have a dog, etc.” Or just ask someone “who are you?” Again, it will almost always be about personal history, personal relationships, their profession, interests, etc. Straight away, they are speaking from their ego. It is rare for someone to go “off-script.” The ego is what we are usually talking about when we use the word “I:” It is “ourselves” as particular individuals. These small stories represent the cave we are all living in.

What is the origin of this cave, this ego-identity?

It is conditioning, through and through. Everything you believe about yourself is the result of conditioning. This is easy to unravel: The body you were born with did not come with a name. Your parents gave you one, and slowly conditioned you to respond to this name. We are all conditioned to believe we are smart or stupid, worthy or unworthy. We are conditioned to believe that certain self-expressions are acceptable and others must be suppressed; we are conditioned to believe all kinds of things like “money equals safety,” “nations are real,” and “a partner will make you happy.”

Consciously conditioning another person to believe something is negatively called “brainwashing.” But even if we “reject” all beliefs, we will find that this root constructthis false “I”—will happily latch on to the belief that “it is a person with no beliefs.”

If you take yourself to be any kind of person at all, you are missing the Truth of your Self.

Sometimes we read or hear truthful statements about the ego and dismiss them: “I’ve heard all this already; I understand all that,” etc… Well, what are we trying to defend, then? What is the source of our restlessness and lack of ease? Why do we continue to chase experiences and live in unpleasant life situations? Why do we find it so difficult to sit quietly in peace?

Once this “false one” is unmaskedonce we walk in out into the sun from the cave—the struggles naturally come to an end. Because we are not separate from one another, it is true that the whole world is uplifted when even one being makes it out.

But I don’t want it to seem so hard! There is actually no cave or ego to “get out of.” See this and you will know freedom right now. And you do not have to sacrifice everything in your life to look within. I am of the belief that most realized beings move towards lives of simplicity because silence just becomes preferable to conditioned chatter and noise. However, peace is still an inner experience everywhere they go. Living from the Truth, a sage is also capable of having relationships and jobs and other “normal” life situations, but many don’t. These things are often a kind of energetic drain.

The main difference is that they have seen who they are, truly and doubtlessly, and allow life to unfold before them. There is no fixed “person” within them. They tend to radiate peace and stillness, but are capable of any unabashed expression—yes, even anger and sorrow. They are simply not identified with their emotions.

As far as getting free, it isn’t very helpful to “think about” the ego-identity. When we think about the ego from the ego, it is tantamount to painstakingly wandering around the cave, taking inventory of its nooks and crannies: “Ah yes, here is the water drip; here is the crack in the cave wall; here is the rock where I stubbed my toe…”

We are also fascinated with the projections on the walls, always discussing them and pointing at them. The obsessiveness over worldly “stuff” is truly silly. You are given no aerial view this way, and no idea about how beautiful it is outside.

To see the ego in its entirety, we must start to make steps towards its exit. If we are lucky and our minds are ripe, our efforts will fruit in no time. We will run right to the edge of the cave and into the sunlight to find that none of those projections were real in the first place. From this position, it will seem bizarre how steadfastly most human beings fight to remain inside of it.

However, it seems that most of us prefer to live in the hallway towards the exit of the cave: We want the imagined safety and familiarity of the cave (the cherished personal identity) and an open free life in the sun.

My friends, this is not possible. It is the work of the egoic mind to convince you the cave is safer. The exact opposite is true: In no time at all, the cave is going to collapse and crumble in on you, so why waste another moment inside of it? The desire to have both can easily create many lifetimes of discord for you.

The true way to live is in complete freedom from the egoic mind. This is also the way our culture goes about transforming into one that is actually healthy and responsible in the long run. Our way of life in the egoic hivemind is much like a snake eating its own tail. It may seem tasty and interesting until we see, with horror, what is happening. Only then will we say, with shock, “my God, what have I been doing?!”

Perhaps the Self is realized right then.

The question is, will we realize these things?

Why I’m Not Into AA

As you may or may not know, I’ve been sober since March 25th, 2017. Like, sober sober. No I do not smoke weed. No I do not microdose or do acid, nor do I recommend these things for spiritual reasons. Yes, I did eat some mushrooms last summer and perhaps that “disqualifies” me from the March 25th sobriety date in some people’s minds. If anything, that experience taught me that I am still not into mind-altering substances. I apologize if all this comes across as self-congratulatory; it really isn’t meant to be. I take no personal credit for my sobriety (or for anything), and do not feel it’s something to be proud of. My truth here is that drugs feel unnecessary, and I am very happy that I was moved to set them aside.

Drugs can provide us with interesting experiences and expose us to other relative realities. They may give us a broader lens through which to view the traumas we have endured, and if one finds a psychedelic experience to be deeply healing, I take no issue with this.

However, seeking Truth is another matter altogether. I have done the drugs and can say that these experiences do not come close to Realization. If we feel we are on the path, the best way to keep our minds is in a state of clarity, and the best way to keep our bodies is in a state of good health. If you spontaneously wake up and have been abusing your body for 10 years, that much more damage will need to be repaired. It is not fun, and it is avoidable.

I know that “sobriety for higher consciousness” isn’t a popular view to hold, but it is a true one. Drugs are for those seeking experiences. Truth is for those who are done seeking experiences and wish to come home to themselves. If we feel we need a biannual drug trip to “reset,” there is something we have missed.

Before March 25th, 2017, I was a drinker.

I started drinking heavily when I was about 18, finding it a very effective way to a) socialize, b) deaden my extremely overactive mind, and c) sneakily release aspects of my “shadow,” or, that suppressed part of me I regularly tried to deny. The shadow is the one with unhealthy preoccupations and deep negativity. It is revealed in all the “bad” things we do when we’re drunk that we wouldn’t otherwise do. We all have this “shadow,” and until we shine a light on it, it will escape somehow.

I loved drinking, and it is not an exaggeration to say that in my early 20s I blacked out at least once a month, sometimes once a week. That person I thought I was felt that it was “fun.” I was not ready to examine what was so fun about becoming less conscious, less present for the life I was living. Being that alcohol is an addictive drug (please never forget this, btw), I was pretty dependent on it in order to even be in large groups by the time I was 25.

The normal progression of abuse ensued. I won’t get into such details here, because they are literally the same for every single person who has stumbled down the road of addiction. It started out like “NBD this is totally normal,” but within a few years I found myself walking through Whole Foods with a terrible hangover as I confessed to my partner, “I definitely have a drinking problem.”

By the time I was 26, I was doing the thing where I semi-regularly took online quizzes with fun titles such as  “Are You an Alcoholic?” I always hoped the answer would come out differently than I knew it would. I bargained a lot, fudging the answers: Do I have more or less than five drinks per week? Who counts? 

Seriously, who counts drinks? If you are drinking straight out of a bottle of wine or drinking beers all day, as I surely did, this whole “measurement” thing is truly laughable. Also, if you are taking these kinds of quizzes and asking yourself these kinds of questions, the answer is “you’d do best to stop drinking, yo.”

After many attempts to quit, I finally did at age 29, and I did it without going to AA meetings.

I am going to say straight away that this was made possible largely due to an undeniable spiritual realization. If you’re trying to quit drinking, I do not recommend waiting around for a click of light. Please, do whatever works for you. If you are reading this and find AA beneficial to you, that is beautiful. But I want to share why it is that AA was never appealing to me, if only to offer a different perspective that may resonate with someone someday:

  1. AA reinforces the false dichotomy of “alcoholic” vs. “normie.” What is going on here? Alcohol is an addictive neurotoxin that our culture just happens to approve of. We are conditioned to believe that it is “normal” to “be able” to regularly ingest this drug. This is a ridiculous piece of conditioning I would like to see fall away entirely. I do not believe alcohol really has any place within a healthy society, again, because it is a poisonous drug that kills a whole lot of people in many different ways.
  2. AA encourages us to view ourselves as “moral failures.” I have written about this before in a much more long-winded post. Talk about a vicious cycle: Do you know why people want to deaden their pain with drugs and alcohol and/or kill themselves? Because they sincerely believe they are moral failures and the world is better off without them. The connection between “moral failing” and addiction needs to be broken. We already know we are fucking our lives up and hurting people we love, and we feel terrible about it. I had no desire to go crawling to an organization (in a church, no less!) to rub my nose in this more and more and more.
  3. AA encourages us to keep energizing the story that “we have a problem.” It asks that we to keep on identifying with a false story. Being that the ego-identity itself is ultimately false, all of our personal stories are also ultimately false. I am aware that this is a quantum leap in spiritual understanding, and to get to the point where we are ready to let go of our cherished stories is no quick task. But it surely does not help to keep telling them over and over again, always upholding the identity of “addict.” There is a time and place for processing trauma, but if we want to be free, we have to drop these stories someday. AA does not encourage us to let go of this story.No one is an alcoholic. No one is a “normie.” These are all surface-level stories. No one is an individual entity at all.

I could keep going, but I’m just going to include another link to Hip Sobriety, because this kind of talk is their whole purview. The founder of the company, Holly Whitaker, has written many blog posts about these things. She wants to live in a culture where addiction is viewed in its appropriate context, and so do I.

Ultimately, though, I think we both want to live in a culture where addiction is a non-issue, one wherein we actually take care of each other and cease our unconscious cycles of trauma. This can only come about by way of radical transformation made possible by realization of the Self.

 

 

The Click on the Couch

This post is a continuation of a series on what occurred during my personal awakening process.

It feels important to say that from where I am now, there is little belief in the person who once seemed to exist, the one who felt so isolated and shameful. When the occasional shame-pangs hit me now, there is a steadiness and ability to watch them pass. Who “I used to be” is really not the point. No one’s individual “story” is the point, nor do I find my own or others’ to be particularly interesting.

And yet it can be helpful to see how one goes from tremendous self-abuse and ignorance to deep peace, because this is the story of humanity at large. In a way, our entire species is recovering from a nightmare we have unwittingly created for ourselves.

I am often caught in an inner dialogue about whether it is beneficial or not to share the details of my awakening. I wonder, am I energizing something that does not need to be chewed on any longer? Each day I think I will delete everything I have ever written, because it is so paltry compared to This Thing, because countless others have come before me (Lish) to say such things far more eloquently, and because sometimes I sense my lingering ego hoping for some kind of attention from it. I guess I’m saying, don’t be surprised if all this disappears one day.

However, something in me still feels pulled to share this for now, and so I will.

April 2014

I am on the couch writing about what I think I want out of intimate relationships. The funniest part is that I am already married.

You’d think we would give due consideration to such matters before making our commitments, but I do not think this is very common. More often, we find someone we love and just hope for the best. Or someone gets pregnant. Or someone feels obligated. Or both. Of course there is also genuine happiness in the relationship and I don’t mean to dismiss this. I do not have a cynical view of relationships, but a sober one: Usually, on some level, we are clinging to one another for some kind of safety, emotionally or financially (or both, because they are related). Then we do neat tricks with our minds to convince ourselves this thing is really, truly what we want, what “makes us” happy.

Yes there are rare, conscious relationships in which both individuals understand what the whole point of life is, if it is even fair to call it a point. That “point” is to wake up from the egoic dream and live in the peace of God. If you are both aligned on this level, healthy and challenging companionship can result. If one of you desires this and the other doesn’t—or if one of you suddenly wakes up—the relationship will naturally change into something less intimate.

As of this journaling moment, I haven’t even really dove deep enough into myself to see if I want a relationship. (I still don’t know the answer to this question, and am leaving it up to Life to provide me with the all the right external situations. So far, this has not failed me in the slightest.)

As I journal, I think maybe I want an open marriage. Pro tip: This is never the solution if you are confused about what you want. Really, I want something that allows me (what I imagine to be) greater freedom. Something about being partnered has always given me a sense of dependency and attachment; I suspect that you know what I mean.

There is a nagging thing in me that has always pulled me from kind lovers who mean me no harm. I have since learned that that thing is called a wild heart and it is not a bad thing unless you are stuck listening to a mind that says you are supposed to be in a singular lifetime relationship only forever. It is only a bad thing when we lack the awareness to say to our lovers “hey, I’m not looking for anything in particular.” It is only a bad thing when we think getting married will somehow fix the wild-heartedness which, again, is not even really a problem.

This “one lifetime relationship” conditioning makes many of us very ill at ease in the relationships we believe we are “supposed to be in.” We hang on desperately even though our hearts are pulling us elsewhere, to someone else (in my eyes, another teacher), or, ideally into our own selves. Usually when we are hopping around from lover to lover we are only seeking our true selves anyway. Sometimes this habit needs to be exhausted until we finally catch on to the silly game we are playing. There is no need to label it as “bad.” Others will do that for you, but pay them no mind either. Just do as the heart commands.

Also: Yes, I am aware this restlessness is partly due to abandonment issues, my addict father, blah blah blah. That is not the story I want to focus on today. The point is that I need to know myself desperately and yet I keep thinking I will find myself in “the right love.”

No matter what our compulsions, the underlying root is the same: We have no idea who we are. We believe this answer lies outside of us, in the configurations of our lives and in our achievements. We are terribly mistaken.

As I was saying: I think perhaps an open marriage is the solution to the fact that I am preoccupied with other men and that I desire more freedom. Oh how the egoic mind seeks to have its cake and eat it, too! It wants to preserve what it thinks it “has” and also collect more and more. So blind, this mind.

My ticking mind then starts to imagine what kind of life this would be, what others would think of me if I were to pursue this. Also, this is so not what my husband agreed to. There is something of a storm of fear about what others will think, and I am trying to sort out what I think I want. So much useless thinking, so much wasted energy.

And further, there is the underlying, humming question I have been asking myself since childhood: What the hell is wrong with me? This is a question I think many addicts can relate to, as well as those of us with mental illness labels: What is wrong with me; what is wrong with me?

And I cannot help but write again that the thing is always the same: Ignorance of the True Self. Psychologically speaking, that is all that is ever really wrong, and yes it is that simple.

The thought-stream continues: Well, so what if people think negatively of me? This is my life. This is the thought that does it for me: This is my life. Oh! This is my life! It’s like I’ve never fully realized it until just now!

The thought swirls a couple more times, and I experience a vague sensation of being sucked into a hole, a space in my mind that feels further inside than I normally go. I am looking into something; it is pulling me inward. Then, what truly feels like a light-switch is flicked in my mind: Click! An epiphany. I am fine.

A wash of relief overcomes me. I feel very light, and very happy. There is such peace in this moment. Somehow I know nothing will ever be the same, and I cannot undo whatever has just been done.

Expectations & Fears

So here’s a thing that’s happening: In less than a week, I will fly from Seattle to Dallas. I will rent a car and drive to an ashram that is located in a (very) small town. I will enjoy a spiritual retreat—my first ever, actually—and speak with the guru about the possibility of becoming a monk (nun?) and living long-term at this ashram as part of their community.

This was an intuitive, gut decision I made over the course of a few days, though the idea of becoming a full-time spiritual aspirant has been with me for many months. I should probably be clear that I do not care for the notion of spending a lifetime “seeking,” and how that is not what I am seeking (hehe) to do here.

There are several reasons why this feels like the right move to me, but I’m trying to keep my expectations to a minimum. Expectations are cruel tricks of the mind. They immediately create an obstacle whereby acceptance of what is becomes impossible. When we find ourselves disappointed, we can always trace this disappointment back to an expectation that things were going to be different, better, easier, more fun, etc. The grim faces we see everyday can be traced back to expectations: I was supposed to have made something of myself; I was supposed to be married by now; I never thought life would go this way…

Nobody’s life goes the way they think it’s going to go—and that only applies to people who have plans in the first place. More often we just semi-consciously fall into some bearable rhythm charted out for us by society at large, and assume it’ll lead to satisfaction. Strangely, we are surprised to find that this non-strategy often leads to malaise of all kinds. We wake up mid-life and feel we are missing something: Life is in its autumn, and we do not feel ready for it.

It is important to remember that the cultural messages we receive lead us astray time and again, and that the confusion this creates ought to be used as a pointer into the heart. It is only the inner compass that is reliable, and this is only true once we have had some practice following it.

The hivemind never overtly says “you’re going to get the shit beat out of you by life before you even have an inkling of what fulfillment is like.” Instead it says, “you really can escape pain by achieving and acquiring and doing!” Then we get busy without much investigation of the premise. Before we know it, we’re in a trap. This is all very mechanically done, handed down from one generation to the next. We unconsciously teach one another this lie by continuing to buy into it all the time.

I do not mean that life must be endless hardship, but hardship is necessarily a part of this thing, and trying to avoid hardship—or expecting that it should not be there—only worsens our predicament as humans.

So I’m keeping an eye on my projections and expectations about this whole Texas-ashram-guru adventure. I am also keeping an eye on my fears, which are just as life-denying as expectations, though usually more insidious because we tend to keep fears buried deep.

We are all pretty open about our hopes and expectations, but usually stay very quiet around fear. This illustrates the (imagined) power of fear: It silences and suppresses and squishes us into contracted people incapable of authenticity. We don’t like to look at these things, so we just don’t. Instead, we tend to move through life simply avoiding those things that have the potential to strike a fear chord, and this is to our deep detriment. I am happy to see that “challenging fear stories” is now a common thing within personal growth circles. Less fear can only be a positive thing overall, especially because there isn’t anything to be afraid of in reality.

I will tell you my fears, because I think that bringing fear to the surface helps to show how ridiculous and small it is: I’m afraid I will be found deeply defective by the residents of this ashram, that I will be told my ego is so whacked-out and absurd and unconscious that it’s not even worth trying. I think my greatest fear has to do with being too defective even for God: That I will stand before the Ultimate and present my latent darkness (which is inexorably a part of me) and the Ultimate will reject me because of these itchy tendencies, cravings, and judgments. I know this is not even really a Thing because God is that darkness, too. All of my fears are a bunch of nonsense the mind uses because it works on my ego.

I am afraid of coming home with no idea about what to do. I am afraid of stagnating creatively, relationally, and spiritually. I am afraid of not finishing what I started. I am afraid of not living my potential full-time. Then I think, hey, maybe I’m onto something here because fear is one of the mind’s favorite weapons for keeping us in its grips. And I also think, worst case scenario: I get to take four days off of work and go deeply into myself in a place specifically designed to help me go deeply into myself. And I think, get a grip, Lish, you’ve been through it all already, and somehow you are still not only living but generally quite content.

Fear, like everything else, is just something to watch from a place of awareness. What I am describing in the above paragraph is still an illustration of egoic defenses. I am trying to soothe the ego with stories the mind finds more comforting. Ideally we can learn to just see how fear is a big lie our egos use to keep us believing we are these little powerless unhappy and uncreative things. 

The trick with awareness is not to “spin” a fear story into new, different, happier-sounding story. When we do this, we are just covering sad delusion with happy delusion, and the whole point is to be free of all delusion. Perhaps this is why I’ve always had more than a little bit of disdain for “affirmations.” Give me a little credit, Louise Hay: I know when I’m lying to myself.

I’m not trying to put stories on top of stories or to cover negative with positive or even replace fear with love, even though these themes are super popular and even though I’ve probably written and/or will write something to the contrary in the future. The Truth is not a story; it is just the Truth. Truth is not love, or light, or positivity, or anything else. These metaphors may help us on certain parts of our journey, but ultimately, Truth just is what it is.

Having said that, I can keep this all very neutral and to-the-point: I’m headed to an ashram in Texas soon, and I have no idea what is going to happen there.

– Lish

How to Start Working on Yourself

Doing conscious self-work is not the same thing as having a full-on spiritual awakening. However, doing this work can lead to a spiritual awakening, or at least make the awakening more bearable when/if it does occur. Conscious self-work is what I’m in favor of for (almost) everyone in the whole world. Unless you’re an enlightened being, you can benefit from becoming more conscious of the stories and defenses that keep you believing you’re something much smaller than you truly are.

Almost every single one of us is holding onto a story to protect our egos (as always: me too). Changing your story—and believing this new narrative—can be deeply empowering. But dropping all your stories and seeing that almost everyone is unconsciously acting out a story? That’s next level stuff. It’s amazing.

Enough practice from this place of awareness and you’ll be able to pick up and set down stories at a whim. You’ll become more dynamic and much more at ease. You’ll know exactly what’s real, but maybe put on masks for various reasons: To make change in the world if you choose, or perhaps just for fun. No one has more fun than someone who is without ego. That’s because there’s no longer any falseness to live up to or placate. There’s no flimsy structure of a “person” to appease, with its ideas of “how things should go” or “what they should be doing.” There’s just fearless being and the present moment.

Anyway, all that stuff happens further down the line. What I’m here to address in this post is self-work, how to get started, and what’s helped me to become sober and cigarette-free and doing the thing I was once most scared of almost every day (writing). Also I’ve managed to come back from a severe breakdown and fill my life with purpose, so that’s pretty neat too. I’m also learning how to be alone with myself, how to listen to myself, and how to say “thanks, but no” to the part of my psyche that’s always trying to get me to go back to sleep.

All inner work is aimed at one thing: Becoming deeply self-aware. The best way to do this is to start noticing the connection between your emotions and their corresponding behaviors. We all know what we’d like to see differently in ourselves, but often balk when it comes to seriously examining the emotional triggers for our “bad” behaviors. That’s because it can get really overwhelming really fast.

The logic goes something like this: If we do “bad” things and have “bad” feelings, we can start to believe we are just bad. Then we act out badness due to sheer self-fulfilling prophecy, and a horrible cycle is born. We have to learn to look at our most feared emotions—despair, rage, loneliness, fear itself—through an objective, loving lens as so not to get trapped like this. And there is a way to do this.

I started writing this post to recommend one book specifically. I ordered it sometime before my 29th birthday when I was steeped in shame, confusion, and self-loathing all day long. Even though it didn’t take me all the way home to spiritual freedom, the more I read the book and did the exercises, the more I understood that it’s all about consciousness.

Here’s a link to the book.

Before I go much further, I want to say one big giant important thing: Stop thinking you are too cool to do inner child work. I know how it makes you feel to think about “your inner child.” It probably feels dumb and touchy-feely. Let’s address that.

First of all, it is extremely tragic that we have been convinced to more or less hate our deepest feelings. As far as The Machine™  goes, feelings are only good when they can be capitalized on, and the best feelings for that are those of constant lack and unworthiness. Feeling joyful and whole deals a radical blow to the ill hivemind that encourages us to constantly crave more in the mistaken hopes of feeling like we actually are more. It’s actually revolutionary to just be naturally joyful, so do it!

I recommend you build up a serious “fuck that noise” attitude to the culture that taught you to ignore all your feelings except the ones that convince you you’re not enough just as you are. That crippling insecurity—”I’m not enough”—has been wired into us so intensively since birth that we can easily go through life as empty vessels aimed at constant consumption, achievement, and other forms of “chasing.” I also recommend you embrace whatever feelings accompany that “not enough” sensation, and pay close attention to how those feelings shape the things you choose to do with your time.

Secondly, the truth about such feelings—that journaling to your inner child is weak, or stupid, or useless, or just for those who have been severely traumatized—is that you don’t want to look at yourself very hard. If it makes you feel particularly eye-rolly to think about addressing your inner child, I contend that you are the person who most needs to address your inner child. Anything that reacts, particularly defensively, is an important place to look.

How do I know this? When I was actively drinking, angry, and totally lost, you couldn’t have gotten me to write to my inner child. Like, at all. I wouldn’t have had anything to do with it, because I was too freaked out. I had steeped myself in enough unconscious behaviors and defenses that I somehow managed to pretend I was an Adult™ for like a year or so, and then that shit collapsed hard. At some point, everything I’d been hiding from was like “oh HEY REMEMBER US?!” And I was like “I THOUGHT I DISAPPEARED YOU WITH CHEAP WINE AND MEANNESS!!!”

I’d like to spare you that terrifying surprise party, if I can.

Yes: Facing your stuff can be difficult. No one said digging through your un- and subconscious junk was going to be a good time. Still, it is the only way to become free of the hurt we’ve incurred, and more importantly, it is the only way we become free from the ways we continue to hurt ourselves by ignoring ourselves.

We all have a voice that tells us what we ought to do with our lives, what we want to do with our lives, and what our highest and most honest life would look like. Most of us are pretty far away from what this voice says. We all know we have potential locked somewhere within us. We all know we can be more virtuous, more genuine, more true.

So how do we do that? It’s this easy, and this hard: Honor that voice over everything else—and I mean everything. This is a lifelong commitment to the soul you’ve been shutting down in favor of “being practical” or “fitting in” or “keeping up your end of the bargain” or otherwise “staying safe.” However, this isn’t about taking great, impulsive risks. It’s about the slow, well-considered movement towards the life that voice pulls you towards.

Rightfully, the book is about self-abandonment. Every single time we choose to numb out, or run away, or maladaptively cope, or deny/suppress that voice, we are telling our souls—our heart’s desire and our greatest potential—I don’t want you and I don’t love you. This hurts even more, but the most ridiculous part about this strategy is that in the end, it is 100% ineffective.

The soul doesn’t go away. By definition, it can’t. It’s going to get louder and louder and louder… until you act. Maybe not this year, maybe not in five years, maybe not even in this lifetime. Still, you will act differently one day, because that’s how undeniable and compelling your freakin’ soul is.

Susan Anderson, the psychologist who wrote the book, takes a brilliant approach to the self-abandonment cycle. Her method prevents us from falling into the black hole of self-hatred by encouraging us to recognize that all the “bad” things we do are not reflections of who we really are. Instead, we attribute them to an entity she calls “Outer Child.” This is the side of you that acts out inappropriately in an attempt to protect/soothe the feelings you’ve been ignoring all your life.

You feel bored or sad? Outer reaches for the beer. You feel rejected and alone? Outer texts your less-than-stellar ex. You feel insecure? Outer brings up someone to talk shit about.

Our uncomfortable feelings are never problems on their own. They provide us with information and are meant to be guideposts for how to live well. It’s the gap between your true self and your hurt feelings—where Outer lives, waiting to maladaptively “help” with ice cream, Netflix, and a bong—that perpetuates these negative tendencies. If we can heal that gap, we can heal our whole selves.

I’m going to cut myself off here, but I really wanted to throw this book into the Interworld and say how personally awesome I found it for myself, and how I wish self-work would become as cool as binge drinking and/or watching sports, and how much I love you for reading this post.

– Lish

When It Gets Bad

Note: As of this posting, I’m doing swell, which is just a testament to how quickly a mood can change. Still, I’m going to post it in its entirety because when I wrote it, I really needed to.

Guess what? The last few days have been, by and large, not great.

I work my ass off to not feel like total garbage: Daily meditation, a pretty rad diet, a lot of running, sobriety, journaling, baths… and of course I’ve done my rounds in therapy and with medication. In spite of these efforts, the thought that has dominated my mind lately has been along the lines of “I’m going to blow my brains out.” (Please know that I wouldn’t be putting this on my blog if it was really a concern.)

I keep wanting to drink (I haven’t) and sometimes I get devastatingly lonely. I know I have created my current circumstances—and we all have, whether we like it or not—but of course I don’t know why. I recently texted a loved one that my “5-year plan” involves getting back into binge drinking and shooting myself in the head off of a cliff. I was kidding, but there really are times when I feel, sincerely, that I am Not Okay, like at all, and I don’t think there is anything that will help. At night I ask the universe to just make me normal and good, but I never wake up normal and good. I wake up the same me who falls short in every regard, who doesn’t love correctly, who isn’t open enough, patient enough, consistent enough, un-thinky enough, kind enough, calm enough, or safe enough. I do not always act like who I am, and I haven’t yet figured out how to fix that permanently.

Why am I posting this even though I try to be all about light and the possibility of well-being? First, it’s real. We are supposed to share our experiences with one another, and I know that the feelings I have are shared by millions of others. The second we fall into the trap of believing our isolation, depression, grief, and self-loathing are any different than those felt by the rest of humanity, we become doubly lost.

Positivity and spirituality are sometimes treated as synonyms, and that’s just not genuine. The path embraces all feelings and states of mind, and it is generally understood that (for a while anyway) waking up hurts. And, even when it’s really horrible, I know that all of my feelings and thoughts are teaching me something. For whatever reason, I haven’t gotten the lesson. If I’d gotten it, this shit would cease. Maybe the lesson is simply in impermanence itself: Never, ever expect to feel All Good, because you will never, ever be static.

Mainly I’m posting this because hiding brings its own kind of pain. When we do this, we deny our true selves to the people who want to love us. It feels worse to hide, even though it definitely feels super uncool to write about my feelings, too. I also know I’m running the risk of sounding dramatic, and at some point—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, probably right after I hit “Publish”—I’ll regret posting it. Soon, I’ll file this time period away into that which I psychologically label “my tantrums.”

The point is: I’m better than I’ve ever been, and still, I am This.

In spite of the intensity of these emotions, I remain unwilling to consider myself ill. I will not accept the bipolar story and I will not label myself “disordered.” This narrative doesn’t serve me, and if anything it damns me to believing I am fixed being. Part of that fixed narrative comes with the notion that I’ll never be fully healed, and I don’t buy that. The only reason I’m even here and in an overall healthier place than I’ve ever been in is because I’ve refused to buy it.

Of course I don’t deny the existence of mental disorders, but rather consider all life experiences as variations in consciousness. This way of thinking makes the difference between the chance at deep healing and perpetual, cyclical illness. One promotes a false “normal/abnormal, neurotypical/neurodiverse” dichotomy; the other promotes a much more realistic spectrum. Training oneself in higher consciousness (by way of self-care, meditation, journaling, etc.) can lead to the cessation of suffering, or at the very least, the dampening of it.

Because really, that’s what it’s all about: Suffering. Whether you call it depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, or a personality disorder, the main concern of the human experience is suffering. The harsher felt aspects of life that are pervasive and repetitive—the ones that get called “disorders” in our culture—persist because we are, on the whole, in a very low place. Greed rules the day. “Every man for himself” is the prevailing ethos. “Us and them” is a mentality that very few people ever escape. When our overall level as a people reaches something higher, we will see mental illness fall away. I’ve said this before and I’m going to keep saying it.

I doubt that this will happen in my lifetime, since our system still seems hell-bent on letting individuals know that they’re the ones with “problems.” In our haste to diagnose—to codify, to limit, to “explain”—we tend to just not bring up the ugly truth of the situation, which is that the world is burning to the ground and our paradigm is truly fucked up. Sick societies create sick individuals, and vice versa. Healthy people depend on a healthy planet, and our planet is really not healthy.

When healing occurs, it does so on an individual and collective level at the same time: We heal ourselves and—brick by brick, mind by mind—build healthier societies that make wellness a possibility for future generations. Until we do this work, we can only expect to see rising rates of suicide, depression, addiction, and everything else we claim to be against. I for one am getting a bit tired of the short-lived outpour of concern that follows celebrity suicides. I am also tired of the idea that a person simply not killing themselves is a great victory: If all we’re doing is constantly pulling each other back from the brink, we’re still failing miserably.

Not a single professional I’ve worked with has really broached the fact that I suffer because A. Suffering is inherent in human existence (and so I have no reason to expect not to suffer), and B. Our culture basically breeds people to suffer for the machine. It was always about “my condition,” “my problems,” “my depression,” “my story of why I hurt.” We all have stories about why we hurt, and to some extent, these stories need to be explored. Some stories are more harrowing than others, but even the most well-off, well-loved people suffer.

Finally, meditation and yoga are being regarded as helpful treatment modalities for mental illnesses. I want to address that here: The science behind psychiatric medication is based on the theory that your brain makes the wrong chemicals and these other chemicals will kinda fix it. The science behind yoga is based on the theory that you are a universal being and ultimately, you are pure consciousness. Get in touch with the part of you that is pure consciousness—through systematic postures and meditation—and suffering begins to transform. This is true for all forms of suffering, be they given medical labels or are simply the “normal” malaise of routine adult life.

These theories/sciences are not mutually exclusive. I will always advocate doing all the things to help yourself. However, through my (largely unintentional and also explosive) exploration of inner space, I’ve found that the latter theory is a whole lot more complete.

There is tremendous power in stepping into the realization that it’s not you. You are not an addict or a depressed person or anything else because something is wrong with you. Instead, we have tendencies to harm ourselves because…

  • Our overall culture is unconscious of the way it thinks and acts.
  • We do not understand and/or accept the depths of the ways we all affect one another.
  • We literally carry legacies of pain in bodily memory.
  • Fear is the default mode of living.
  • We have forgotten the truth of what we are.

It’s not that you’re a defective model, and you do have the power to rise above all of these things.

When it comes to mental health and overall wellness, that’s what it’s all about: The cessation of suffering through the exploration of higher consciousness. Not endless treatment, not an illness-oriented model, and certainly not a narrative that you will always be one thing or another.

Let’s end this on a high note, shall we?

Before I sat down to write this post, I went for a run. Even when I’m in the depths of it, meditating and running tend to lift my spirits. Near the end, I found this rosebush in someone’s yard, and it was too beautiful not to take pictures:

This is what’s called the Peace Rose. And although I regard the entirety of my life experience as equally meaningful and meaningless, I’ll gladly take signs like this in times of need.

If you’re reading this, the message is meant for you as well.

– Lish

The Lenses Through Which We See Ourselves

I really don’t like going more than a week without posting something new, but my novel has sucked me back into it. This is a blessed joy that also feels kinda like a violent storm.

I’m convinced that giving birth and creating art are pretty similar in terms of intensity and magic (though I’m sure a billion mothers would roll their eyes at this). But what I mean is that artistic creation can also be an incredible, laborious process gifted to us from the great beyond. The gestation period here is much more unpredictable, though. And at least you know what you’re getting when you’re pregnant, and in most cases, it comes out all beautiful and squirmy and warm. I’ve found that when I write, the more I think I know what I’m creating, the more my creativity laughs in my face. (Surprise! You’re giving birth to a hairless purple giraffe that shoots lasers out its eyes! Hope you still love it!)

When something I’m working on says “please pay attention to me,” I listen. This necessarily means that other things have to fade into the background. Sometimes these things fall into the category of “basic necessities,” such as eating and sleeping. Doing these things feels so irrelevant when a project needs me. If you love me and this worries you, just know that I’ve also begrudgingly accepted that eating and sleeping are things most people need to do on a daily basis.

But I feel like I should say that very advanced yogis (like decades-long trained, hella deep yogis from India) tend not to eat and sleep as often as we in the West do. The human body doesn’t require anywhere near 8 hours of sleep if the rest of the system is kept in good balance. This is especially true if the mind isn’t given free reign to burn through psychic energy with all of its cyclical thoughts; such thoughts further exhaust us when they intensify emotions. Seriously, the undisciplined mind uses sooo much energy.

There’s a relationship between a yogi’s feelings of wakefulness/decreased need for sleep and bipolar mania: What is referred to as full-blown mania is an unchecked, unplanned expansion of consciousness. Whereas a yogi has trained to feel awake, alive, and supremely transcendent, a manic patient hasn’t. It’s like jumping straight to the top of a very precarious ladder: The view is phenomenal, but of course we fall.

This is extremely meaningful with regards to the way we look at bipolar disorder. Like perhaps it’s inaccurate to label these experiences symptoms of severe, chronic illnesses?

Speaking of bipolar mania: This is one of the lenses I want to discuss self-beliefs through.

Beliefs are extremely powerful things despite the fact that they are, by definition, not based on personal experience. Here’s an easy way to understand what I mean, inspired by one of my most favorite mystics, Sadhguru: Do you believe you have ten fingers, or do you know it?

The things you know for sure don’t require belief. They’re solid and you don’t question them because it’s all right there in front of you.

Direct experience is the only thing to trust regarding all things existential and God-related.  My awareness of God is based on things I have felt and seen, and I would never dream of picking up a belief system—this includes atheism, by the way—instead. I would not even believe a famous prophet if he were standing right in front of me. This would be an insult to curiosity, a slap in the face to the incredible opportunity I’ve been given to seek and find out what reality is. It’s important to live from Truth based on what you actually know, and frankly, it’s a bit weak to put faith in a thing that has never been made really real to you. Millions of people do this. (I find it equally weak not to seek at all, but that’s a different conversation.)

On the other hand, I’m more than willing to simply believe that mankind has set foot on the moon. I didn’t see it and I wasn’t there, but if pressed to say if I “believe” it happened, sure. The evidence seems sufficient enough. (Mostly, I just don’t care if it’s true or not, but that’s a thing I believe.) “Beliefs” really should be saved for stuff that doesn’t matter so much.

But the big stuff? Re: Life and death and reality and God and who you actually are? You shouldn’t “believe” a thing! Find out for yourself. Until then, it’s far more honest to admit that you just don’t know.*

*But please don’t insist that just because you don’t know, the Truth “can’t” be known. I have heard this from more than one skeptical person. The most interesting thing about this statement is that usually, these people (whom I love) have not even really looked. They’ve consulted their minds up to a certain point and explored themselves no further. Truth cannot be found in the mind.

And yet, to make it through the day, we all have beliefs about ourselves.

The relationship between stories and beliefs is close: Beliefs reinforce stories, and stories reinforce beliefs. They hold each other up. If one starts to fall, the other one does, too. I’m inclined to say that stories come first in the form of tiny micro-stories (memes) traded around in the hivemind, but I haven’t parsed it all out yet.

The most powerful stories and corresponding beliefs are those that are about ourselves. Stop and notice: What kind of narratives do you have going on in there about yourself, right now?

“I am a failure;” “I am a good person;” “I am lost;” “I am an American:” These are all tiny stories that we can come to believe throughout the course of our lives. While meaningful, they are still just stories, and to me, every story becomes less true with every added judgmental adjective.

These beliefs can fluctuate a lot based on our mood and what has happened to us lately, and ultimately, they depend on whatever is most commonly reinforced in our own minds. We all have the capacity for self-hatred and/or self-love; it just depends on which one of these things we cultivate regularly.  Positive or negative, beliefs are strengthened the more often we tell ourselves stories (i.e. have thoughts) about ourselves.

Your self-beliefs are inextricably linked to your emotions. This is why Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (which commonly guides people with depression to question automatic, negative thoughts) works statistically just as well as antidepressants do—no side effects, bodily poisons, or Big Pharma required. Of course, in dire need, use both! Do all the things! (Unfortunately, CBT does not prevail for existential depression because you can’t think your way out of death.  Existential depression is where the deep, deep work begins.)

Today I felt like drawing pictures, so I drew some. My goal here was to represent the way we view our mistakes through various lenses and their corresponding self-beliefs: Depressed, manic, healthy (by Western parameters), and ultimately, from the perspective of higher consciousness. I don’t know if it’s going to make any sense to anyone who might be reading this, but it does to me, so here goes:

ink (18)ink (19)ink (20)ink (21)ink (22)ink (23)ink (24)

In the grand scheme, mistakes aren’t even a thing. Everything you’ve done that you regret has been necessary for your growth and evolution, and for the evolution of those whom you affected. Some part of you created the mistake so that you both could move into deeper understanding.

I don’t just say this as someone who has made a lot of mistakes (and who is probably currently making them). I also recognize that the mistakes which have harmed me were also part of what brought me to the truth and the light. We can acknowledge when past behaviors have caused emotional harm, and we can apologize for those behaviors—and we should.  We can honor another’s feelings when they say “hey, that hurt when you did/said that thing.” This helps us to understand one another and ourselves.  Understanding is a prerequisite for love.

The balancing act is this: It’s all already perfect. It’s all exactly as it is. Events are occurring and you have done things; it is only the reactive mind and emotions which codify these events into things that are good and bad. There is another dimension of you that doesn’t need to do this with everything, and really doesn’t want to. (Psst: This is what Nietzsche was talking about when he wrote, “That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.” I freaking love that quote, and only after I lost my mind did it really become like, “oh DUH!”)

Does this mean we go forth behaving however cruelly we wish, knowing that morality is false? On the contrary: When we see how perfect the truth is, we naturally become more mindful of our behaviors and guided towards less harmful courses of action. The whole Universe is an exquisitely balanced math equation on its own; behaving in harmful ways screws up the beauty of this equation.

The whole notion of morality is actually based in higher consciousness; it’s just that the mind can make everything way too complicated, trying to intellectualize things like normal human decency. In an expanded state, love and compassion are as logical as drinking water when we are thirsty.  Explaining the “why” would be pretty silly, no? If we know we are all each other, we automatically lose the need for morality and self-beliefs. It’s all just so clear.

Then, after we realize it, living in such a state of balance as a human being is possible with only one thing: Practice.

Have an awesome day!

– Lish

Happy 4th!

Nations Are Illusory

There has never been a need to cut the world up into nations. There is land. There are climates. There are variances in topography and coordinates which correspond to unique geographic locations. But there is no such thing as a nation once you have become unconditioned.

What we refer to as “our country’s history” is a collection of stories passed down from one generation to the next.  Stories can be twisted to fit any agenda; they are the most manipulative device known to man. I could tell you stories about myself that would make me look awful, and I could tell you some that would make me look great. I expect the same is true of you. Neither one would be based in reality because reality only exists here and now; also, everything is so much bigger than any single story can touch. 

Stories are the things your mind holds onto in order to keep your ego intact, or in this case, the ego of the nation. And so, from moment to moment, I am a woman without a story unless I choose to make one up. I do this often—and we all do. The only question is whether or not we’re aware that that’s what we’re doing.

According the story that is perpetuated in American culture, today is Independence Day. Here’s that story as I see it: A few hundred years ago, some people freed themselves from the tyranny of one guy and went on to oppress a bunch of other people. In the following years, some people ended up way better off; others ended up way worse off. Today, the remaining people are among the richest, saddest humans in the world. Regardless of their comforts and rights, they remain neurotic. Many are outright miserable.

I know there are more poignant aspects I could focus on, and that with the right intonation and rhetoric of glory, I could say something  patriotic: “The founding fathers emancipated themselves from an oppressive, greedy monarch and went on to build a country based on the ideals of liberty and individual pursuit of happiness.” See?  I can do it; it’s just so obviously one-sided.

Anyway, if the goal was for us to be very materially wealthy and very psychologically ill, I’d say this thing is a great success.  But of course it wasn’t.  The goal was freedom, and we are still so far from it.

Freedom is a State of Being

This isn’t meant to be a rant against the US or against Independence Day; it’s meant to be a post discussing actual freedom.  I’m so totally pro-freedom that I want us to be free of nations.  I want us to be free of limiting beliefs.  I want us to be free of borders and security agents with guns and hostility towards one another.  I want us to be free of fearing our fellow humans and free of fearing death.  I especially want us to be free of fearing life. I want us to be free of suspicion. I want us to be free of fearing that at any moment, freedom can be taken away, so we best militarize and lock up.

True freedom can never be taken way, nor can it be granted by another.  It is an individual’s personal work to get and remain free of his/her limiting mentalities (and, of course, to understand what that “self” actually is). Someone who is retired with millions of dollars can easily be mentally enslaved. Someone who is in jail can live outside of the confines of the body and mind and dwell in a kind of peace that eludes everyone else.

It is the work of the collective to create functional communities wherein we don’t treat each other like equipment, constantly assigning value to one another. In this made-up lala-land I inhabit in my imagination and envision as a real possibility, we would give of ourselves as we could and accept when needed. No one would fear for their survival, thereby becoming free to devote energy to inner development. This is the place I want to live, and it is one I know can exist because I can think of it. It is also clear to me that creating such a culture is a requirement for allowing the Earth to heal itself from years of abuse.

The story I want to be able to say regarding the transformation of consciousness goes like this: “Humans freed themselves from their own oppressive minds, ceased to identify with illusions, and came together to clean up the mess they’d unconsciously made.”

What I am Free From

I get that this has all been very pie-in-the-sky: Nations dissolving, people treating each other with love, blah blah blah.  I know it seems like there are a million steps we have to take before we get there, but the truth is that awakening happens in just one moment. One click of light and it’s all over. The self that thinks of the self falls away. The self that is separate from others is revealed as a facade. It all seems so idealistic until you get a taste for it and begin to feel the changes within yourself.

Suddenly, it’s feasible: We really don’t have to keep waging war on this planet or on one another if only we could drop every single lie that stands between us. The war within us is the war without. The things that leave us feeling like we’re 50 different people all the time are the same things that divide us on the whole. Total system overhaul is dependent on us transforming ourselves and  moving forward consciously.

To round this little post out in a much more normal and personal note: Today is my 100th day alcohol-free! I didn’t plan it, and if I had, it wouldn’t have been as good as it is. I’ll be spending the day playing outside, being with loved ones, watching fireworks, and drinking a bunch of nonalcoholic ginger beer and grapefruit soda. I choose to see today as a celebration of my freedom from alcohol addiction.

I’m working on a big post on alcohol right now: Why I don’t drink (it isn’t because I’m an alcoholic) and how I’ve practically spring-boarded from poor decisions, constant shame, and self-recrimination into positivity and actions that are more in accordance to who I know I really am just by giving it up.

The post will go up when it does, and until then, I hope you are all enjoying this beautiful summer. May you celebrate real freedom, as well—whatever that means to you.

Love,

Lish

We Need New Narratives

I felt compelled to put this piece up, lest I be misunderstood so early on. I’d also planned to save some of it for several different posts on medication, but, stuff changes. I’ve definitely noticed that the more I grow, the less I plan, especially when it comes to self-expression.

I do not promote any alternative treatment. Recovery from mental illness is a private and unique process that each individual must take the reins on, provided they have the insight to do so. What I promote is an alternative narrative to the mainstream disease model.

There’s a more holistic perspective here; it is one that no one offered when I was tossed into the jittery machine that is mental healthcare in America. It’s a view that takes the biopsychosocial stuff (upbringing, socioeconomic status, genes, etc.) into account, but also goes a step further. This step has made life clearer than everything I learned while getting my BA in psychology and from seeing various mental health professionals over the years. It takes evolution into account—more specifically, the evolution of consciousness.

Consciousness is not something that can easily be written about, and whenever I see a theory trying to “pin down” what it is, I know it is going to be incomplete. Its very nature is a kind of timeless aliveness; something that is always new yet always constant. I could try to explain what this all feels like, but there’s really nothing I could write that would compare to you delving into your own consciousness. That’s what I recommend for everyone, whether they have been diagnosed with a mental illness or not.

I get how wacky this sounds from a Western perspective, but once fully understood, all of the pieces came together for me.

Most of us seem to believe that normal, everyday waking-consciousness is all there is, that this mode is where “reality” resides. This is not true. The evolution of consciousness is ongoing, and we are conscious beings. This means that our inner states are always evolving, whether or not we are aware of it. When these changes are noticed, they are usually unplanned and transient: An inexplicable feeling of calm and stillness while standing nature. Some are bigger: Intense, life-changing love in the form of a partner or new baby that transforms the way your world is seen. And some are massive: The universe taps you on the shoulder, a light clicks on, and you are pulled along with the flow of it whether you like it or not.

I do not mean to say that all shifts get us closer to the Truth, or that they all feel good. When manic, I was downshifting into extreme paranoia/anxiety and then back to being the totality of the Universe in a matter of a few minutes. The energy going through me was phenomenal: Walking felt like gliding above the ground and sometimes I had to spin in circles while texting. I was also very irritable, short-fused, and obnoxious. I made very poor decisions.

This was the result of an unsteady, unplanned expansion of consciousness, and it was definitely not awesome.

I encourage no treatment other than that which agrees with your common sense and intuition.  I talk to my doctor, but I always I check in with myself, too. This is because even though my doctor is freaking awesome, nobody knows me like I know myself. For now, I’m on daily meditation and medication, but the latter is going to go at some point.

The narrative from a psychiatric perspective goes like this: Because of environmental and genetic factors, I have Bipolar Disorder, Type 1. This severe illness is no different than diabetes or asthma, and I should treat it the same way—with medication—for most if not all of my life.  It never fully goes away, and going off of my medication will always present a threat to my health and stability. I cannot help being this way, and my mood fluctuations/out of control behavior are the result of misfiring neurotransmitters in my brain.

The narrative from an evolutionary perspective goes like this: I am a being who is evolving in consciousness. When my consciousness expands and/or contracts, I perceive the world differently and feel a lot of intense things.  With good habits, information, and practice, I can learn to use these expansions healthily, or just sit and watch it happen.

When I’m well enough, I can go off of my medication provided I take better care of myself than ever before. I can alter my thoughts and behaviors; these new choices actually change my neurotransmitters over time. I can be in charge of my whole self, be free from suffering, and live to my true nature.

I have chosen to go with the most empowering (and truest) narrative, live to it, and present it to others who are dissatisfied with story #1. This does not mean that the psychiatric story is false, only that it is limited in the way it views illness.

I hope this post clears up some confusion about what it is I’m getting at.  In the world of mental health, there are many great treatment modalities, and we’ve come a long way from denigrating those who are honest enough to say “I’m not okay.”

But we need more than good treatment: We need a universal context for our illnesses, or they will never fully make sense. As patients and as people, we need a new lens to look through.

– Lish

Location: Mt. Vernon, WA