Descending

Leaning in to what’s possible when I’m feeling like not much is.

I’m struggling to stay in this google doc. My left hand is itching towards my phone and the promise of blissful mindless scrolling. My right hand twitches towards the mouse and the freedom of a new tab with endless news to browse. My hands are squirming cats trying to be held but insistent on escape. It took me hours this morning to get to the point of sitting down at my computer. Now that I’m here, I want to be anywhere else.

I spent the last ten minutes staring at a draft of this week’s post. The words weren’t resolving. I read the first few paragraphs four times, and still couldn’t make sense of them. Not because it’s a bad piece of writing or contains invalid ideas. But because today I’m having a very hard time accessing the creative, ideating part of my brain.

I still desperately want to write. I have spent so much of my life in isolation, never finishing projects, not feeling like I’m accomplishing anything of worth. Countless hours spent reading fiction, playing video games, binging TV. Anything that could take me out of my head and into a place of escape. I’m so tired of that life, but it is deeply tempting at the moment.

I don’t have it within me to put on my “I have something worthwhile to share” hat. I can’t access – let alone write about – the latest insights I’ve had. I want to hide away on my couch and pretend I never committed to a weekly post. I can’t begin to find within me that calm confidence I rely on to reflect on how I’ve grown – and how that story of growth might help others.

But while I may be struggling, I can still make out one key piece of self-awareness through the haze of frustration: I’m pretty low on my ladder.

The Autonomic Ladder

The top of the ladder is characterized by safety, warmth, social engagement – where I want to live.

The middle is fight or flight, engagement but a sense of danger, uncertainty – defenses are up.

The bottom is a freeze state, being shut down, dissociated – feeling despairing or numb.

Deb Dana came up with the ladder concept, as a way to make polyvagal theory more readily accessible. I’ve found this approach to be immensely helpful in getting my overly logical self to understand how and why my body and brain interact. From the lens of this theory, I’m probably somewhere between the sympathetic and dorsal vagal pathways. I want to run away, to flee, but also to not engage, to go to sleep, to completely numb out. I’m having a very hard time accessing my safe, calm, reliable, creative brain – the ventral vagal pathway. I could get way more into this theory, but I’ll save that for when I have more access to my ventral vagal paths.

I love living at the top of the ladder. When I’m there, I have so much creativity, curiosity, joy, and such a desire to be (and find) my best self. I’ve spent more time up there in the last year than I had in the ten years prior. But as I’m acutely, frustratingly aware of this week, I can still get knocked back down to my default rung on the middle of the ladder. Without some basic nourishment and maintenance, I slip into the warm, sterile, isolating comfort of my old patterns.

Most frustrating about all of this is that I’m struggling because I’m doing what I want to be doing. Not what feels most safe, but what, in my core, feels like a really solid way to be living my life. Last week’s post about my struggles with drinking was exactly what I wanted to write, and sharing that publicly was hard. Every week, I’m baring my soft underbelly to friends, family, and strangers, knowing I probably won’t get attacked while being so vulnerable, but a scared little part of me keeps asking “Why are we doing this? Why can’t we just go back to keeping our head down and fitting in?” I used to go months at a time without exposing a shred of vulnerability. Now I find myself leaning into that vulnerable side multiple times a day. It’s exactly what I want to be doing, but I’m paying a price.

So this week I’m compromising. I’m still writing. I’m still being vulnerable and authentic. But I’m also finding a bit of self-compassion for my current reality. I could’ve tried to push through with the original article. Maybe I would’ve ended up with something I was reluctantly fine with. Or maybe I would’ve crashed all the way to the bottom of the ladder and already started a days-long Netflix binge. Instead I’m recognizing what I’m capable of at the moment, and leaning into that.

Resources

For a quick introduction to polyvagal theory, I’d recommend Deb Dana’s Beginner’s Guide

I appreciate y’all for reading. As always, if you have any thoughts please leave a comment or reach out directly.