These days I have a certain problem with coffee. In effect, it makes me insane -- although there may be a benefit in going deep into this madness it produces. Unlike so-called "depressants" like alcohol, which take you lower into the self and the emotions, a stimulant like caffeine acts to block off my emotional awareness. This is not at all a good thing, as when I cannot access what I am feeling, I suspect that certain aspects of my environment may be getting out of my control.
The horse (my sense of being) beneath the seat of my mind may be walking, trotting, cantering -- but I have no sensation of the reins, hence a sense that I have no control over my decision-making processes. I wouldn't know if I were pulling too hard or not at all. I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling about anything. In times like this, I exercise perfect control and say nothing at all. I won't be able to tell until the adrenaline or stimulant wears off and the flood gates allow my sensations to move through again.
Caffeine triggers a traumatic center in my brain. Since I am unable to draw sufficiently from my emotional memory, I jump to negative conclusions about the-nature-of-reality-itself. Reality seems very sordid, rather scary, deadly whilst refusing to show its layers.
An occasional drink of wine on the other hand, is not just beneficial but practically essential for my health, for otherwise, with caffeine or no caffeine, I tend to lose touch with what I need to recognize to keep up my mental well-being. I can reintegrate my emotions by going deeply into them in a positive way, whilst building plans and formulating my ideas. This is what a glass of wine achieves for me. Not engaging in this ritual, however, returns me to my early adult self. My 16-20 year-old self had repressed everything to do with emotion and feeling. This was the effect of post-migratory trauma; also of the tactics I'd developed from a very early age to deal with emotionally confusing and disturbing experiences. I switch off.
It has taken me years to realize the damage I was doing to my health in not maintaining emotional awareness. I had no idea I was so impersonal and detached from everything, until a crisis made me realize I had repressed a huge amount of sadness and anger. I made a tremendous effort, from then on, to switch on to my real emotional states. My physical health immediately improved in tandem with my self-understanding.
My ongoing tendency is nonetheless to switch off and to become a mystery to myself again. I hold my breath and hope nobody asks me what my motives and intentions were, because likely as anything I will not be able to know -- until I have consulted with myself. And, who knows how long or short such a consultation with one's inner being might be? It could take forever. Or a very limited time. Still, one has to begin the query first and then, wait and see.
Because of my tendency to hold my breath, I sometimes need to learn what I've experienced retrospectively. I haven't really been taking it all in. I've been waiting for someone to take a clear and obvious stance -- and then I'll deal with it. I handle crises of most sorts and people behaving like asses very effectively -- because it's this I have waited for. I can think extremely logically and unhindered by any emotion or doubt, once I've decided to take action. My views and values become sharpened, so much more decisive in a crisis. It's just the regular stream of life where I often can't get enough emotion to flow through to think clearly. In a situation resonant of my trauma, it is difficult for me to "be myself".
I retain an odd, Rhodesian personality -- which I have, nonetheless, modified to some degree.
I take time to decompress, to feel what I have experienced. I have developed a higher capacity for emotional integration than I had in those early days of post-migratory trauma. Despite this, I'm never going to be an "emotional person" or even a very personal person, because focusing on feelings in their own right, rather than as building blocks of culture, puts a huge strain on me. I genuinely can't understand the importance of having emotions that don't supply substance for analysis.
It's only the resulting analysis that counts as the source of every deeper pleasure.
The horse (my sense of being) beneath the seat of my mind may be walking, trotting, cantering -- but I have no sensation of the reins, hence a sense that I have no control over my decision-making processes. I wouldn't know if I were pulling too hard or not at all. I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling about anything. In times like this, I exercise perfect control and say nothing at all. I won't be able to tell until the adrenaline or stimulant wears off and the flood gates allow my sensations to move through again.
Caffeine triggers a traumatic center in my brain. Since I am unable to draw sufficiently from my emotional memory, I jump to negative conclusions about the-nature-of-reality-itself. Reality seems very sordid, rather scary, deadly whilst refusing to show its layers.
An occasional drink of wine on the other hand, is not just beneficial but practically essential for my health, for otherwise, with caffeine or no caffeine, I tend to lose touch with what I need to recognize to keep up my mental well-being. I can reintegrate my emotions by going deeply into them in a positive way, whilst building plans and formulating my ideas. This is what a glass of wine achieves for me. Not engaging in this ritual, however, returns me to my early adult self. My 16-20 year-old self had repressed everything to do with emotion and feeling. This was the effect of post-migratory trauma; also of the tactics I'd developed from a very early age to deal with emotionally confusing and disturbing experiences. I switch off.
It has taken me years to realize the damage I was doing to my health in not maintaining emotional awareness. I had no idea I was so impersonal and detached from everything, until a crisis made me realize I had repressed a huge amount of sadness and anger. I made a tremendous effort, from then on, to switch on to my real emotional states. My physical health immediately improved in tandem with my self-understanding.
My ongoing tendency is nonetheless to switch off and to become a mystery to myself again. I hold my breath and hope nobody asks me what my motives and intentions were, because likely as anything I will not be able to know -- until I have consulted with myself. And, who knows how long or short such a consultation with one's inner being might be? It could take forever. Or a very limited time. Still, one has to begin the query first and then, wait and see.
Because of my tendency to hold my breath, I sometimes need to learn what I've experienced retrospectively. I haven't really been taking it all in. I've been waiting for someone to take a clear and obvious stance -- and then I'll deal with it. I handle crises of most sorts and people behaving like asses very effectively -- because it's this I have waited for. I can think extremely logically and unhindered by any emotion or doubt, once I've decided to take action. My views and values become sharpened, so much more decisive in a crisis. It's just the regular stream of life where I often can't get enough emotion to flow through to think clearly. In a situation resonant of my trauma, it is difficult for me to "be myself".
I retain an odd, Rhodesian personality -- which I have, nonetheless, modified to some degree.
I take time to decompress, to feel what I have experienced. I have developed a higher capacity for emotional integration than I had in those early days of post-migratory trauma. Despite this, I'm never going to be an "emotional person" or even a very personal person, because focusing on feelings in their own right, rather than as building blocks of culture, puts a huge strain on me. I genuinely can't understand the importance of having emotions that don't supply substance for analysis.
It's only the resulting analysis that counts as the source of every deeper pleasure.
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