When the mind is sick, the body follows suit.
Never in my life has this been more clear. This last week has been one of those rare "theme" weeks at school--where the majority of my classes accidentally and serendipitously collided in subject matter, leading me to wonder if all my professors didn't get together over the weekend and plot their material out over drinks. Besides the upcoming presidential election, my professors have shared one important idea: the health of the mind infinitely and strangely connects to the health of the body.
It started with my Abnormal Psychology class and researching anxiety disorders for a group project due next week. Things slowly began clicking into place and I found myself viewing my life with new eyes. My trip to the emergency room last spring, for example. I am now convinced that the chest pain and difficulty breathing I experienced then, which the doctors couldn't explain or provide evidence for, was nothing more or less than an intense panic attack. (I had experienced panic attacks before, but haven't had any attacks as serious as the E.R. one before or after this incident). As I read about panic disorders, agoraphobia, and general anxiety disorder (G.A.D.) I was reminded strongly of the times when my stress level skyrocketed due to school, work, or relationship pressures and I suffered physical repercussions (getting Shingles--a phenomenon more common to 60-year-olds, my immune system crashing, infections, insomnia, depression, gray hairs, and general fatigue, to name a few) that might have been avoided or reduced significantly had I learned to control for the stressors in my life.
Tonight a group in my psych class did a presentation on somatoform disorders, including hypochondria disorder and conversion disorder, all of which are physical manifestations of psychological distress. We watched videos of individuals who experience seizures or constant pain, real or imagined, to reflect in an outward way the damage being done on the inside. Many of these disorders are paired with anxiety, depression, behavioral problems, and abuse. This makes it not only difficult to diagnose but difficult to treat, as incredible damage control is needed when a patient is told that their chronic pain or condition is "all in their head."
My Zen class focused on an article by Paula Arai which spoke of therapeutic techniques to help individuals heal, particularly after trauma. The article includes a list of "Ten Principles in the Way of Healing," and number two on that list reads: "living body-mind." Arai writes
The women in this study view the mind and body as one, a fundamental assumption of their worldview. It is so "normal" to them it did not seem to warrant mention. Yet, this view of the body-mind as one is a significant component of their healing paradigm because it explains how they can turn to chanting and prayer in the face of terminal illness and believe those activities will help them heal. By not bifurcating the resources available to a person, they find avenues of healing that no allopathic doctor would prescribe: holding a rock that has the word "OK" painted on it as they are transported into surgery...(etc.)
Even my archery class joined in the spontaneous stream of cross-subject contemplation. Over and over my instructor reminded us to make the bow a part of our arm and the arrow's aim a part of our vision, connecting mind and body to be "one" with the sport we were engaging in.
I think, subconsciously at least, I always knew that this connection was significant. I just never realized how significant until I ended up in the E.R. All of the most difficult parts of my life have been the ones punctuated with an urgent need to meet unrealistic expectations: I hope that they like me...I want to get this part perfect...I don't want to look foolish (that one is big for me, and the reason that I don't ever dance in public or do well with confrontation)...What if I mess up this presentation/job interview/(insert your own stressful social situation)?
These anxieties are always paired with an incredibly harmful sense of dread or despair if I fall short of my own expectations. Over the last two years I have been engaging in the pursuit of peace of mind, of finding a healthier mindset--of generally "chilling out." Without knowing that my body was reacting to my problems with anxiety, I have been training myself to be flexible with my responses to difficult situations. And, to an extent, I think I've been successful. (I didn't, for example, have a panic attack when I saw a midterm grade of C- like I might have two years ago. I also didn't shake or feel light-headed during a recent presentation, which is improvement).
The moral of the story, folks, is to be kind to your mind. The longer you stew in regrets or unreasonable guilt, or set unrealistic expectations for yourself, or allow yourself to sink into depression, anxiety, or anger--the more your body and overall health will decline. You'll grin and bear it and pretend to be strong, but over time that stress will wear you down and affect your daily life.
Keep the mind engaged, think positively, engage in things you enjoy, surround yourself with support, and above all, stay healthy. Your body will thank you for it later.
Link to Paula Arai's article: http://muse.jhu.edu/books/9780824860134
*image taken by me, altered by BeFunky Photo Effects online*
