I won't wear make-up on Thursday: Body Intelligence gleaned from staying in bed!

OK, it's true I didn't wear make-up on any of the other Thursday either, but that is a reference for the Cool Kids who both wear make-up and listen to "actual music". Maybe I should have picked the more accurate line from the song "I will do nothing on Thursday: sit alone and be."

That is exactly what I have done. Well, I went and let the chickens out about lunch time to get rid of the anxiety that I hadn't done that or fed the guinea pigs. Brought the Piggle Peggies in for moral support and returned to the land of bed. At 3.30pm I even progressed from a prone, under-several-duvets state to seated with just one merely draped over myself.

I had done that thing that's meant to be sensible (although admittedly it may come slightly out of desperation too) where you communicate that you need something before utter disaster hits. The trouble I have discovered though, is that then if you get the thing Brian tells you in no uncertain terms that this is a catastrophe. You shouldn't have the thing: no-one else has the thing - why are you any more entitled to the thing than anyone else? Accommodating the thing has cost other people: you are an even worse person for needing, and taking, the thing. You didn't really need it anyway, you just quite fancied it - you could, and should, have managed without it; after all, nothing terrible happened to show that you needed the thing, so you must just be greedy and lazy. Now that you've had the thing, what if you actually need it in the future? You've already had it so you'll have to manage without next time. You can't carry on like this, "needing" things left, right and centre, you need to pull your socks up and get on with life like everyone else.

Contrary to appearances, I haven't just come here for a whinge about the Brian. In my nothing-ness and the approach to it I stumbled on a couple of observations.

The sensory may be more involved than I think.

A perfectly adequate set of resources for
the day

This is funny, because I've just started reading a book by Penny Greenland of JABADAO* about (well, partly about) how body intelligence (the is a whole chapter just introducing the concept of what this is) can be used in the mind together with intellectual intelligence to approach everyday issues and problems.

In the lead-up to realising I needed some space I first noticed my brain responses: getting irritable, decreased patience, increased behaviours and unhelpful thoughts. Then as things progressed over the next day or two and I became more stressed rather than less, on the final day I was much more aware of sensory responses. The piercing vehicle-reversing-beep I had to block from my ears, a scratchy label in my clothing, appreciation of darkness. The all-pervading discomfort caused by a foreign and distasteful (to me) scent on my fleece, that became so unbearable I had to give up my fleece. The proprioceptive/touch dysregulation of not wearing my fleece when I'm already stressed. The overheating of my body from the down bodywarmer I luckily had in my car that I fetched at lunch time to solve the proprioceptive problem.

To be very brief, something like this...

I don't know whether it's that the warning signs come in this order - the lower-level stress is signified by more cerebral warnings and the sensory warnings signify that things are escalating - or that my awareness works in this order: the more significant my stress levels, the more I function on a sensory level and the cognitive loses priority. I suppose processing capacity is decreased when under stress so this would make sense. Now that I think about it, there's a lot of theory that explains this, but you can go and Google that - I can't be bothered to talk about it now (but if you ask I'll go and find it!). Yesterday I also began exchanging words quite bizarrely. I explained to my fellow class Peggy that I was going to cut the Duplo lengthways to make it fit. I meant Velcro. Just picked the wrong word. I used the word purple instead of person to the same colleague about five minutes previous to this. My thoughts were jumbled and I wasn't properly paying attention to myself or anyone else.

I came across a quote in the JABADAO book today: "This woman's focus has changed so thoroughly from intellect to body that stringing words together has become difficult. She has swapped an intellectual way of being, for a body way" (page 33). I laughed aloud when I read it because it seemed so apt. The lady in question had made this transition intentionally, but I had perhaps begun to make it unconsciously, which is why the kind of work described in the book is so important. Becoming aware of and utilising this body intelligence can help integrate the systems and employ them in a helpful way.

As I was sitting alone and being today, I attempted to be mindfully aware of my frustration, my guilt, my fear and anxiety (two distinct states/thoughts for me) allowing them to be, while listening to what my body needed and permitting it to have that. It meant I stayed in bed for a really long time. It's now 4.30 and I'm still there in fact. I never stay in bed for that long. I sometimes have days where I stay a pretty long time, but eventually my body tells me it's time to do something else. I can feel the time approaching, but it hasn't come yet, and I'm trying to ignore my own judgmental feelings and my feelings about how it would appear to others and not rush my body into doing what it's not ready for.

As I knuckled down and did nothing I found some of the reasons why here was the right place today. They were mostly sensory. It's not that I'm in a dark place mentally and can't "summon the motivation" to get out of bed (don't get me started on people making those kinds of judgments). I am not psychologically bound to being here. Neither am I intensely physically exhausted and thus unable to get up, although I am tired. This time, my body has told me that this is the right place for it to get what it needs right now.

Not laziness. Important work to enable
future functioning. Down with shame.

What it needs is a lot of touch/proprioceptive input. When layered for weight, duvets and blankets give my body the perfect way to receive input to my body's entire touch receptor; its largest single organ, the skin. A friend once told me of a discovery that the more of her that was touching something, the more comfortable and relaxed she felt. I am exactly the same, and the only thing I have found that beats a good pile of duvets is swimming. When I move in water (not necessarily in a conventional "swimming" way, but in the way my body wants to), it moves past every cell of my skin. I find it exceptionally helpful and regulating, and now that I've written that, I've realised that was my first sensory clue to my dysregulation. I noticed the immediate calming effect of being in the hydro pool the day before the other sensory clues and commented on it at the time.

The other reason I needed to be in bed was to regulate via the olfactory sense. I would certainly never have intentionally sought this method of helping myself, but sometimes my body knows more than my brain (body intelligence...). Now I know that this will disgust some of you, but try and let go of your social conditioning for a minute and bear with me. Our own smells and those of our loved ones are some of the earliest developmental experiences for our olfactory sense, and thus easily processed and calming (credit Joanna Grace). I became aware part way through the day that I was frequently seeking this input, putting my fingers to my nose, and even smelling my own shoulders and arms (weird, I know!). When I leant over the other side of the bed I smelt Mr Peggy's smell, and after stroking the Piggy Peggies my left hand smelt of them. All of these were contributing to the gradual regulation of my body.

The final piece of body intelligence I gleaned also came from Hopping Home Backwards. There are little exercises throughout the chapters which aim to help the reader understand better by experiencing what is being discussed. All I could notice was that every time I tried one - they are all about listening to the body and what it wants - all mine wanted was stillness. It didn't lead me into any kind of movement unless there was a part of my body that wasn't touching something and then it asked to curl up smaller or snuggle into a bit of duvet. For me this was surprising. Mine is a body that likes to move. It needs to move. It needs to stretch a lot and it is useless at sitting still. But all it would do today was be still.

And I'm pretty sure it was right. I was right when I communicated that I needed some space. Whatever the Brian said afterwards, and it is shouting loudly as I write this, I did the right thing. And it was right to do the right thing. My brain can sometimes lie to me, but my body knows and tells me the truth. You've done enough. Sit alone and be.

*Hopping Home Backwards, Greenland 2000.

Sensory Series Part I: Sensory Experience can be Shared

I've had a blogging hiatus. No particular reason, but I haven't felt the urge to write anything for a while. It's been an interesting time in my life, blog-writing hasn't seemed to be the right response, and I have perhaps had less space for bloggy thoughts to develop.

The idea has been tapping at my brain cells a little recently though, and I thought autism awareness week would be a good opportunity to make a comeback (missed it slightly!). I've had plenty of food for thought, with some genuinely life-changing training through my job, which will probably come to you soon in some form or another!

What I want to talk about today comes from a bit of a journey of sensory awareness that I've been on recently.

I've discussed before that I don't have too many really troubling sensory problems, but over time and with discussion with people similar to me I have come to realise that my sensory world nonetheless has an enormous importance in my life.

It has the power to make things a bit more tricky (I am thankful that it doesn't generally have the power to render me drastically less functional), but more importantly it has the power to make things amazing! My sensory world (which is really just my experience of the world) can hold the key to calmness, freedom, joy and even connection to others.

Curling up in a blanket always wins!

I learnt fairly quickly after discovering my autism that I can benefit from sensory input. Touch and proprioception are the biggest ones for me: I love to be wrapped tightly in a fleecy blanket or to wear clothes that give tight, even pressure, I love to lie on the floor, I feel safest when curled in a ball, when as much of my body surface is in contact with something else as possible.

Recent training with JABADAO in "Developmental Movement Play" gave me so much insight to the importance of awareness of our bodies' sensory needs - for myself and others - that I will probably write a separate post about it (or several!). It is no exaggeration to say that my life and the lives of those I care for have been changed and will continue to change as a result of the time on this training.

This was the first time that I discovered that positive sensory experiences didn't have to just be for me, on my own. They can actually be an invaluable form of communication between people, much deeper and more fundamental than linguistic communication that people with spoken language naturally turn to.

Upside-down is good too!

Through JABADAO and my work, I also came into contact with Creative Humans, whose director Amy Manancourt not only runs this truly inclusive (a word I'm actually not fond of for many reasons, but Creative Humans really are just a group of people being and creating together) company but provides massage therapy and yoga therapy too. Amy demonstrates a profound understanding of the body and what it needs. Through practising my own movement play and visiting Amy for treatments, I have begun to attend to my body and what it needs, having a greatly beneficial effect on my wellbeing.

At my most recent treatment, Amy suggested that I attend her company's upcoming workshop for an opportunity to move my body. It didn't take much persuasion, and as I knew pretty much what to expect, my excitement overrode any anxieties I would normally have about the new situation. I was not disappointed. My anxiety tends to be primarily social- and communication-based, and I have to say that this is probably the least stressful occasion I have ever attended!

Now, movement play is all about bodies and what they need, and communicating on a fundamental level without words getting in the way or lack of words being a barrier. Words are simply not used. Even (or maybe especially?) for a wordy person like me, this is a perfectly freeing environment. At the workshop, I didn't have to negotiate anything verbally. The session begun when I arrived, and I could just slowly join the area, moving as my body wanted to.

What took me a little by surprise was how much and how easily I connected with the other dancers and participants. There was freedom to observe, to copy, to try things out, to make suggestions, to be alone or to be with others. I was strangely aware of the therapeutic effect of the environment I was in. I was truly me, and actually connecting in the most real, authentic way that I ever have. It was safe, I was real, and I was a part of things without having to pretend or "translate". I had only really experienced that maybe twice before: once during an "experiential" session on my Music Therapy module at University, and then during the JABADAO training when Penny (Penny Greenland; JABADAO founder and director) came and worked with me briefly.

For me it's novel to be calm whilst connecting

Movement play was just the beginning of my journey with sharing sensory experiences. It works with the touch, proprioception and vestibular senses, which tend to be my "best" - my "go-to feel-good" - senses. If I need to put myself right, get myself feeling right in my body, feel real, it's movement, curling up, wrapping up that do it for me. So I suppose it's a bit of a no-brainer that I felt I had found my people when I discovered this area of work.

However, starting from that point has prepared me for an expansion of awareness of my sensory world and the possibilities of connecting through it. The other training I have been on this year has been with Joanna Grace of The Sensory Projects. Jo is a sensory engagement and inclusion specialist and came to my workplace to deliver a training day on Sensory Stories. Just as with Penny from JABADAO, I could have spent days listening to Jo! Some people seem to have an almost endless well of insight, wisdom and experience to learn from, and an engaging manner of presentation to match. These are two of those people!

After the Sensory Stories day (which I would recommend to anybody working with sensory beings - people whose primary experience of the world and understanding thereof is sensory rather than linguistic - or in fact many others in the care or education sectors) I was lucky enough to be able to attend Jo's annual training day on Sensory Engagement for Mental Wellbeing. I was astounded and quite outraged to hear that although one study found 84% of their survey group of people with PMLD (profound and multiple learning disabilities) to be displaying signs of low mood/depression, most of these people have no appropriate mental health support because they are unable to access what is routinely provided. Add to this that the problems are often not recognised due to apparent lack of change in wellbeing, or changes being attributed to pre-existing conditions, and it can make for a pretty dismal state of affairs.

"You have time for me" is another of the
strategies for mental wellbeing

Thankfully people like Joanna are working to change this by finding and sharing strategies to support the mental health of sensory beings: how can we make it true for every person that "I am safe", "I can effect change", "The world is a place I can explore" etc? I'm not going to go into an of the content here, but you can find Jo on her website (see link above), Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn etc.

My point in all this rambling is that I began to properly link together sensory input with its effect on my mental wellbeing (and to begin to observe that in others). When working with sensory beings, here is a basis for the fundamental connection that I feel so strongly through movement play: a place where people interact as equals, both providing valuable input and opinions. It doesn't only happen through movement - that is just where I found it first, and maybe the most meaningful channel for me.

When we find that point of true connection, we do wonders for the wellbeing of both parties.


P.S. This post had a sequel but I deleted it in a moment of brain malfunction, so you'll have to wait until I've re-written a less good version. Sorry!