All of my life I've felt like a wild animal in a cage, pacing around the walls, looking for the reason why. As a child I did everything I could to be anything other than a human. I was a dog, every species of dinosaur I knew, a wolf, a lion, even a cat if my playmates insisted on playing house instead of some more interesting adventure game. I refused to be human. Anything felt more right than that.
When I hit my teens the feeling became even more insistent. I had grown out of pretend games, but I felt like my real life was one. The people directing my life wanted only the best for me, but they didn't allow me to shine through all their plans for me. I felt lost. I didn't know who I was- only that I wasn't anywhere near who my parents wanted me to be, and I didn't know how to proceed.
The feeling of disconnection only grew. I was tired. So much more tired than seemed reasonable, or allowed. Every day in high school I was wrung out, and keeping up my grades took so much of my focus that I had literally no extra minute for things that might repair my soul. I felt broken. I felt wrong.
A lot of teens seem to feel bad about their physical body. Some of them stop eating, some find other ways to physically harm themselves. I did neither. Instead I would imagine what I wished my physical form would be. I would concentrate on having a bushy tail and pointed ears. I could practically feel a muzzle coming out of my face. An invisible and intangible coating of fur would cover me. And this began to happen when I wasn't concentrating, even when I didn't want it to. Against my will, my fingers began to fold over whenever I was relaxed, becoming the closest thing to a paw that a human hand can. I would lie down to take a nap and wake up on my side, "paws" stretched out, knees bent, shoulders crammed as close to each other as physically possible, draped over the furniture like some sort of Great Dane.
At first, the way my imagination took the concept and ran freaked me out, but it felt so right- so much more "me" than when I was upright, pretending to be a normal human being. I had recently discovered the internet (as it was relatively new, lol) and got brave enough one day to search the word "werewolf". What I found changed my life and my feelings about myself.
It turned out it wasn't just me, that lots of other people (though obviously still a small minority) had similar sensations of feeling not human. And they weren't all teens, either- many of them were older. The term to describe this unique kind of body dysphoria is "therianthropy", and those who experience it call themselves therians. Many of the sensations described, such as the feeling of "phantom" limbs (for example, a tail), sudden shifts in your perception of your mental image (known as a "mental shift") and the feeling of being in the wrong body were all things that had already become very familiar to me by happening to me on a regular basis.
On the advice of other therians, I began to research animals, trying to figure out what I was. Many of us, for reasons unknown, are some species of wolf, though there are plenty of other types, too (big cats are also common). I still remember the shock I felt the first time I saw a photo of a Mexican Wolf. I had been startling myself for years passing by mirrors- it used to really spook me to see a human face staring back at me, and I would have a moment of who is that? The second this photo loaded, it was like I was looking in a real mirror for the first time. As a matter of fact, the exact photo in question is now my profile picture on this blog. It looks more like me than anything I've ever seen. Just like most people feel recognition seeing a photo of their own face, I only feel that recognition when I see my wolf self. This is the main reason I draw myself as a wolf- to do otherwise would be like drawing somebody else.
As my sense of being a wolf has persisted over the years, I've encountered plenty of theories as to why. As a teen on various forums I found that many of my fellow therians believed that they were whatever species in a past life and the feelings of being that species had carried over. Another popular theory was that they had the soul of a non-human animal and it had- either by mistake or by design- been inserted into a human body instead. Raised an atheist with two scientist parents, neither of those theories particularly appealed to me. If we are reincarnated animals, why the bias towards certain powerful forms? If I don't believe in a higher power who spends a lot of time inserting souls into bodies, then how can I believe that he or she made a mistake? And so I've come up with my own ideas, based on my own worldview. I used to think of therianthropy as some sort of psychological disorder and assumed that the wiring in my head was somewhat wrong. Having given up the pessimism inherent in that theory, however, I've begun to think of it as more of a result of many factors. The sense of unreality I sometimes get (as well as the mental haze I lived in for most of ten years) I know now to be caused by narcolepsy. My desire to connect with other species, and the way this was denied me for most of my life, probably also contributes, as does my extremely vivid imagination. I've always been an artist and a caretaker by nature, and have felt a bit out of place with our society's expectations of me, making it difficult for me to relate to what a human is "supposed" to be. Plus, I don't feel that it's a huge jump behaviorally from human to wolf. We have similar social structures, hunting tactics, basic needs, and complex emotional lives. I think it's fairly common to see ourselves in wolves- so why couldn't I see a wolf in myself?
It may seem out there, but all I know is that ever since acknowledging this side of me I've felt much closer to who I am. I still get my "paw hands" all the time and feel like I have wolf ears on top of my head. Fortunately, my fiancee thinks it's adorable, and my friends have always accepted it as a weird me-quirk (one of them happens to be a Siberian tiger therian). While my parents and other family members have never directly found out, I doubt any of them would be in the least bit surprised. If you know me, you know I'm wolfish, whether I've told you about it or not.
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Why Soy Is Not For Me
I'm sure I've written about my soy intolerance before, but having a distinct lack of brain these days, I have no memory of the entry whatsoever. But, as soy is continuously making life irritating (or in my case, freaked out anxious) for me, I figure it's safe to repeat my feelings on the subject.
I got up this morning feeling much better and less gunky. The cold is mostly gone, and because of the lack of headache and the renewed ability to breathe, I actually slept pretty well last night. Aside from multiple dreams about almost drowning, that is, but what's new? So I woke up feeling (for me) refreshed and like I might be able to walk the dogs or clean the floors today- both things that really need to be done. I had a little bit of caffeine in my tea to get me going as usual, a smaller amount since my normal energy level is on its way to being restored.
My girlfriend is also almost recovered from the cold today, so she made breakfast for us both, an experiment with new hot cereal. She put flax and chia seeds in it and a little honey and rice milk. It tasted pretty good, but I didn't eat much of it because there wasn't a lot in the pan, and after the fact I can say I'm really glad.
Since I accidentally became mostly Buddhist (see previous entries), I've been paying lots of attention to my own body and emotional states. I feel like by intentionally watching myself, I notice when I'm being a jerk or neurotic or getting excessively angry, and because I can see it as it's happening I can change course before I do any real damage. This comes in handy when you have a mental or even physical problem in your body because you know right when you run out of energy, or you can see past anxiety and find its cause, and possibly find relief.
Well, as soon as I finished my little bowl of the cereal, my heart sped up and I got tense. My thoughts derailed into a roller coaster of "OMG I HAVE ALL THIS STUFF TO DO AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" and my shoulders were like a rock. It took me a minute to make the connection, but it was pretty obvious, as this is exactly what always happens the minute I eat even traces of soy. Honestly, I've never met anyone else with this reaction to soy, but it's listed as one of the eight major allergens, so it must do something to a lot of other people. You can imagine how nuts I was going between when soy began to have this effect on me and when I figured out the cause: for most of a year I was constantly freaking out (I got diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder by a therapist I was seeing) and finding ten other things to blame it on. Anxiety can be caused by so many things, including just life and stress, that it's hard to pin down. And it wears you out so bad, which sucks when you already have a much lower energy level than most of the people around you. At the time, taking Xyrem was also not helping the situation.
As a usually pretty relaxed person, the reaction I have to soy is pretty extreme, so I can usually tell as I'm eating whatever it is. The pain I get from eating gluten happens similarly quickly, which is nice because it means these days I rarely eat a lot of either substance before figuring out I need to stop. But as someone who has to avoid both gluten and soy, it's tough. At least half of the new tasty-looking things I find labeled gluten-free at the grocery store turn out to have soy in them. Before I could cook very well, it was murder. You find delicious-looking cookies only to see that lovely "CONTAINS: SOY" on the back, and anything containing chocolate you can forget.
I have to say, life is much easier since the required allergen labeling came into effect. Wheat and soy both have to be declared really obviously on the label, and it's handy. It used to be I would get something that looked perfectly safe and try it, and have to have one or both types of reaction before knowing it "may contain traces". Since the labels changed I've seen a huge decrease in how often I have gluten or soy reactions, and at least nowadays it's usually my fault for misreading the label.
And, because I know the suspense is killing you, yes, it seems the chia seed came from a "facility that also processes products containing soy", which explains it nicely. Time to go raid the fridge for a better breakfast...
I got up this morning feeling much better and less gunky. The cold is mostly gone, and because of the lack of headache and the renewed ability to breathe, I actually slept pretty well last night. Aside from multiple dreams about almost drowning, that is, but what's new? So I woke up feeling (for me) refreshed and like I might be able to walk the dogs or clean the floors today- both things that really need to be done. I had a little bit of caffeine in my tea to get me going as usual, a smaller amount since my normal energy level is on its way to being restored.
My girlfriend is also almost recovered from the cold today, so she made breakfast for us both, an experiment with new hot cereal. She put flax and chia seeds in it and a little honey and rice milk. It tasted pretty good, but I didn't eat much of it because there wasn't a lot in the pan, and after the fact I can say I'm really glad.
Since I accidentally became mostly Buddhist (see previous entries), I've been paying lots of attention to my own body and emotional states. I feel like by intentionally watching myself, I notice when I'm being a jerk or neurotic or getting excessively angry, and because I can see it as it's happening I can change course before I do any real damage. This comes in handy when you have a mental or even physical problem in your body because you know right when you run out of energy, or you can see past anxiety and find its cause, and possibly find relief.
Well, as soon as I finished my little bowl of the cereal, my heart sped up and I got tense. My thoughts derailed into a roller coaster of "OMG I HAVE ALL THIS STUFF TO DO AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" and my shoulders were like a rock. It took me a minute to make the connection, but it was pretty obvious, as this is exactly what always happens the minute I eat even traces of soy. Honestly, I've never met anyone else with this reaction to soy, but it's listed as one of the eight major allergens, so it must do something to a lot of other people. You can imagine how nuts I was going between when soy began to have this effect on me and when I figured out the cause: for most of a year I was constantly freaking out (I got diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder by a therapist I was seeing) and finding ten other things to blame it on. Anxiety can be caused by so many things, including just life and stress, that it's hard to pin down. And it wears you out so bad, which sucks when you already have a much lower energy level than most of the people around you. At the time, taking Xyrem was also not helping the situation.
As a usually pretty relaxed person, the reaction I have to soy is pretty extreme, so I can usually tell as I'm eating whatever it is. The pain I get from eating gluten happens similarly quickly, which is nice because it means these days I rarely eat a lot of either substance before figuring out I need to stop. But as someone who has to avoid both gluten and soy, it's tough. At least half of the new tasty-looking things I find labeled gluten-free at the grocery store turn out to have soy in them. Before I could cook very well, it was murder. You find delicious-looking cookies only to see that lovely "CONTAINS: SOY" on the back, and anything containing chocolate you can forget.
I have to say, life is much easier since the required allergen labeling came into effect. Wheat and soy both have to be declared really obviously on the label, and it's handy. It used to be I would get something that looked perfectly safe and try it, and have to have one or both types of reaction before knowing it "may contain traces". Since the labels changed I've seen a huge decrease in how often I have gluten or soy reactions, and at least nowadays it's usually my fault for misreading the label.
And, because I know the suspense is killing you, yes, it seems the chia seed came from a "facility that also processes products containing soy", which explains it nicely. Time to go raid the fridge for a better breakfast...
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Accidental Buddhist
It might have been coming to terms with Narcolepsy that did it, or maybe moving to the country. It might have been partly a result of living in Tokyo for ten months during a time when I was feeling very vulnerable and looking for a new direction. It might have been various books I read out of my girlfriend's library when I was trying to figure out how to deal with life away from my parents making me plan everything. But one thing is certain: it snuck up on me.
I started out stressed out about the future. Like, really stressed out-- how was I going to make it in the real world, being so tired I can't see straight? How was I going to afford health insurance and my medication? Was I ever going to move out of my parents' house? During that time, part of me was annoyed at how stressed out I was. I would yell at my dog and feel terrible, but if I didn't yell it got pent up. I was also an anxious mess in a lot of ways, because there were no easy answers to my questions. I was more or less trapped. I didn't know what to do with myself. Then I found that my parents leaving for two weeks allowed me to relax a bit, and it felt right. I tried to carry it over to when they returned, but it was impossible. The tv was always blaring; someone was always complaining about work. The city outside was so loud that being in our tiny yard wasn't restful. Everything was too fast-paced for me and so even running errands was something that was supposed to be rushed. Only then, I would be back home again, still with nowhere to escape the tension.
I did find one place I could go to relax: I would take my dog to the park. The main areas were usually crowded and I'd end up having to talk to people, but there was a Japanese garden that had quiet benches where my dog and I could sit and soak up the trees and grass and sunshine. It was heavenly, but I had to drive there, so by the time we got home again I was a tense mess. There was nowhere like that within walking distance of my house.
Then I had an incredibly huge stroke of luck and found out that my best friend was, in fact, in love with me, too. So I left that place and came here, to the middle of nowhere, to live with my girlfriend and her parents. This place is not perfect, of course. It gets very cold here and there are stairs between me and the dogs and the outside world. But it was this place that taught me how to be still and quiet and relaxed. Here, I can step outside and come across no one who I don't know well- no pressure. The background noise is the sound of birds, ground squirrels, and horses, plus very distant traffic. Here you can really listen. It's the perfect place for meditating- though it took me awhile to figure out that's what I was doing.
Living here, life is determined by what the animals need- our dogs, cats, horses and donkey have various chores attached to them that happen throughout the day. Animals live firmly in the present and it rubs off on you as you care for them. It certainly rubbed off on me. So I ended up not planning my day out. Instead, I wait and see how I feel and what needs to be done, and then I do what feels right. I went from the "tomorrow at 2 PM" mentality to the "maybe we'll do it on Thursday" mentality, if that makes sense. And as I became more firmly rooted in the present, the past and future began to bother me less. I started to recognize their importance without attaching so much fear to them. I started to think calmly about what needed to happen that specific day instead of freaking out about how I'm going to be feeling in ten years. I'm still slowly thinking over what I'm going to do about health insurance when I'm no longer covered by my parents, but it's far enough away that I'm not afraid when I think about it- I'm just calm and thoughtful and able to think clearly.
And this is how I ended up accidentally a Buddhist.
I started out stressed out about the future. Like, really stressed out-- how was I going to make it in the real world, being so tired I can't see straight? How was I going to afford health insurance and my medication? Was I ever going to move out of my parents' house? During that time, part of me was annoyed at how stressed out I was. I would yell at my dog and feel terrible, but if I didn't yell it got pent up. I was also an anxious mess in a lot of ways, because there were no easy answers to my questions. I was more or less trapped. I didn't know what to do with myself. Then I found that my parents leaving for two weeks allowed me to relax a bit, and it felt right. I tried to carry it over to when they returned, but it was impossible. The tv was always blaring; someone was always complaining about work. The city outside was so loud that being in our tiny yard wasn't restful. Everything was too fast-paced for me and so even running errands was something that was supposed to be rushed. Only then, I would be back home again, still with nowhere to escape the tension.
I did find one place I could go to relax: I would take my dog to the park. The main areas were usually crowded and I'd end up having to talk to people, but there was a Japanese garden that had quiet benches where my dog and I could sit and soak up the trees and grass and sunshine. It was heavenly, but I had to drive there, so by the time we got home again I was a tense mess. There was nowhere like that within walking distance of my house.
Then I had an incredibly huge stroke of luck and found out that my best friend was, in fact, in love with me, too. So I left that place and came here, to the middle of nowhere, to live with my girlfriend and her parents. This place is not perfect, of course. It gets very cold here and there are stairs between me and the dogs and the outside world. But it was this place that taught me how to be still and quiet and relaxed. Here, I can step outside and come across no one who I don't know well- no pressure. The background noise is the sound of birds, ground squirrels, and horses, plus very distant traffic. Here you can really listen. It's the perfect place for meditating- though it took me awhile to figure out that's what I was doing.
Living here, life is determined by what the animals need- our dogs, cats, horses and donkey have various chores attached to them that happen throughout the day. Animals live firmly in the present and it rubs off on you as you care for them. It certainly rubbed off on me. So I ended up not planning my day out. Instead, I wait and see how I feel and what needs to be done, and then I do what feels right. I went from the "tomorrow at 2 PM" mentality to the "maybe we'll do it on Thursday" mentality, if that makes sense. And as I became more firmly rooted in the present, the past and future began to bother me less. I started to recognize their importance without attaching so much fear to them. I started to think calmly about what needed to happen that specific day instead of freaking out about how I'm going to be feeling in ten years. I'm still slowly thinking over what I'm going to do about health insurance when I'm no longer covered by my parents, but it's far enough away that I'm not afraid when I think about it- I'm just calm and thoughtful and able to think clearly.
And this is how I ended up accidentally a Buddhist.
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