Intuixiety

Here’s the thing about my brain, body, connection:
I was trained to try to work my intuition like a muscle. I’ve written about that before but that was YEARS ago, I don’t expect you to look it up. Anyway, I have worked at this working from intuition thing for a very long time, since I was about eighteen, and that, my friends, is a very long time. But what has happened in perhaps the last fifteen years or so, is that now that I no longer self-medicate for painful shyness, depression, social and other anxiety disorders, some of the physical sensations I had learned to associate with the “pay attention” signals from the realms of the mothers, are now mixed with my ever increasing, anxiety based physical symptoms. This now occurs at a level which makes it quite difficult for me to sort out whether, when I get a certain butterflies, nervy, slightly nauseous feeling is it a phone call from the psyche or a chemicals gone wrong, message.

This is one of the reasons that I take so little of my properly prescribed medication. I always am trying to sort out which way the wind is truly blowing. The funny thing about that? That I am required to get drug tested on a fairly regular basis to ascertain that I am actually taking drugs! This irony is certainly not lost on me.

So the question for me becomes, as it probably has been since the beginning, is how much of myself will I lose if I take psych meds? This whole issue is really “up” for me right now, as I finally reached the decision to put my little (cat) girl in Prozac. What a hard decision that was. Sorting out the power and control issues incumbent in forcing psych meds, that I have refused myself, on another being... Not comfortable at all. But she has been a victim of severe anxiety for such a long time that I have decided to at least try it for awhile and see if she becomes a happier creature. The perpetual question: will she lose some essential self-ness?

The Myth of Independence

Nigel just reminded me that it is the anniversary of this blog. I’m pretty sure we’re talkin’ six years here. And somehow it has survived. Granted it was on it’s deathbed for quite awhile as I was feeling oppressed by trolls. But for now they’ve gone away and the underside of my bridge is (for now) a cool and shady place to hang out by the water again. Apparently I can’t flourish well in sunlight being forced off my own little, slice of heaven, real estate. I assume they’ll show back up. I’ll cross my bridge when that comes to it.

Here’s the thing about “Independence” day; we only gained that independence by being able to depend on people like Lafayette (ergo countries like France). There is no real independence especially in the modern world. The Randsian ideal of the self-made man is a complete myth. If Howard Roarke designed, built and engineered a skyscraper all by himself, with his bare hands, using tools he made himself, I’d like to see it.

Especially in this era of specialization. The right hand has no fricking clue how the left hand does it’s job, only that it passes the piece over to be finished also not knowing what that will entail.

If you think you can survive without anyone or anything please walk naked and weapon less, with not one supply, into the woods right now, stay there completely alone and cut off for ten years and when you come out I promise we’ll give you a book deal.

*Oh did I also mention only people who spontaneously arose fully formed, and were never suckled, nurtured or taught, need apply.