My body, the hedgehog

on rebuilding trust with my body after decades of pushing past my limitations

Hello and welcome to Healing is My Special Interest, the newsletter at the intersection of late diagnosed neurodivergence and healing from high control religions. A few quick things: first of all, starting next week, I will switch to publishing on Wednesday mornings.

Secondly, for 2.5 years the vast majority of content I have worked so hard on for this newsletter has been available and accessible to all. As the seasons are shifting so too will this newsletter — fewer public posts, and most of my personal writing will be behind the paywall. This is for multiple reasons, but mostly it is because I am learning to value the work and energy and time I put into my writing. If you believe in this newsletter (or find the content helpful), and want to see me continue to pay and platform other neurodivergent writers, would you consider becoming a paid subscriber? We have a beautiful community of the most thoughtful, healing folks and we would love to have you.

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Krispin is such an incredible photographer!

The seasons are changing and I am soaking in every minute of it. Yesterday we had a rain shower that felt like spring — but this time, it was ushering in fall. I wake up to dark skies and gray clouds and the hint of rain in the air and I shiver with happiness. The summer was long. The summer was difficult. My body was on high alert from the heat, from the needs of my children, from the project I am working on about systematic abuse of children in evangelical spaces. 

The past few weeks have been rough. I feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Trying to do it all, being burned, and falling back to earth with a thud. My body tries to remind me of its limitations, but the old ways of ignoring myself creep back during times of stress and busyness. My face still hurts from when I fractured it in January, especially when the weather changes. I am still recovering from COVID from last month, which took me out in a way I am still grappling with. My oldest child started online high school, and it once again became my part-time job to help navigate the complexities of the US educational system with a PDA autistic child. We finally published part 1 of our chapters on corporal punishment, and even though we have taken a long time — over 18 months — of research and giving ourselves plenty of self-care breaks, it still knocked me on my ass¹. The comments poured in — on our Substack, on instagram, on TikTok. So many stories of pain. And for what? So religious authoritarian systems could continue on. I tried to honor every comment, until my body told me it was done. 

Tension headaches, swollen cheeks, acid reflux, low energy . . . last week my body ever so kindly tried to tell me it was full of the pain and suffering of others. It was asking me to spend some time with it, to remember the boundaries that separate me from other humans. I am me, and no one else. I am hypervigilant often over my children, but they are not me. They have their own nervous systems, inner worlds, complex human emotions. I can identify and sympathize with other survivors of RAP methods, but I am not them — nor can I save them from the pain they experienced. My body was telling me it was at capacity, while my brain clung to the belief that we had an endless reservoir of helping energy. 

Watching the rain storm pelt the earth, savoring the dark skies, throwing on a favorite sweatshirt, smelling the wet mint from my garden . . . I sink into the reality of seasons. Life changes, whether we want it to or not. Perhaps the best I can do is to learn to marvel at what brings me joy, no matter what season of life I am in. No matter if I have burned myself out once again, trying to save the souls that were never mine to begin with. The evangelical impulses die hard, precisely because the system runs on folks who ignore their own bodies for the sake of the greater good. I go into my garden and smell the lemon balm, pineapple sage, basil, and lemon verbena. I am me, and only me. I can’t be anything other than what I am, and I am learning that this is the only way I will truly survive.