If you’ve been reading along with my posts, you may already know that I’ve been wading through some emotional waters, sinking in some existential mud and rising up on some not-quite-fully-formed-but-definitely-in-progress dreams. This post will basically continue where I left off last.
I’m feeling HEAVY lately. There’s definitely some ennui and existential angst seeping into my current soup of feelings, and they are sending me such polarized side-effects as anxiety attacks and lazy escapist behaviors.
I still do believe this is all part of the unfolding of the transformational shift I am undergoing. Because it’s such a pivotal shift with deep identity-shaking ramifications, I am experiencing an internal tug of war between the welcoming of this shift and the resistance of it. It’s different winners on different days, but, lately, resistance has been taking the lead. The conscious parts of me aren’t too happy about this, but are doing their best to hold space for the resistance with grace, love and trust.
I’ve been reading a book recommended to me by my beautiful and wise sister. It’s called The Continuum Concept. It centers around how we humans (and all creatures of Nature) have evolved to expect life to unfold according to a continuum set forth by eons of adaptations for optimum living experience. However, over the past several generations, that continuum has been interrupted as we move further away from the Natural Order under the guise of civilization. (I am paraphrasing here, and will likely not do the book justice in my translation. I highly recommend reading the book if you find this idea at all interesting.)
The author explains that human infants have an innate expectation to be in constant contact with the mother’s (or other caregivers’) body at all times during the first stages of childhood. We are meant to experience life-in-progress via our caregiver’s going about their daily activities taking us along for the ride—much as one takes along a backpack. This allows us to observe the world in motion, and prepares us for what will be required of us when we begin to embark on our own self-led life experiences.
We are meant to be protected and provided for at all times so that our only responsibilities are to eat and poop, observe (visually and/or experientially) and sleep, and signal to our caregivers if those basic needs are not being met.
We are not designed to self-soothe by crying ourselves into a state of desperate defeat when separated from the safety of our caregiver’s body. In fact, if our continuum is uninterrupted, we have no reason to cry or wail at all. Instead, we feel safe and cared for, as expected, at all times, and our demeanor reflects that. We are not designed to be lying around alone and still in quiet inactive spaces. This does not teach us anything about life. We are meant to always feel safe, loved and a part of the community in order to develop into functional, confident, contributing members of that community as we age.
If our continuum is broken in those formative years, by not having those evolutionary needs and expectations met, we do not develop efficiently. We learn that we are not safe; that we will not always be provided for; that we are not lovable and do not belong.
And the worst of it is that when this happens, we tend to spend our lives unconsciously creating situations which keep us stuck in this lesser state of existence. It is how we first imprinted the experience of life, and, so, it is what we believe we are supposed to experience for the entirety of life.
Reading about this in such specific terms was hugely resonant for me. In fact, this very concept—in much vaguer shapes and strokes—has been presenting itself to me since before I even knew about this book. And in true synchronicity, the book came to me just when I needed it. It has been feeling so helpful to have my experience explained in a scientific psychobiological framework.
Throughout my life, I have repeated variations of the same pattern ad nauseam. I will notice myself getting motivated to bring more bliss into my life by doing things that I know feel good for me. I will start making progress with my efforts. I’ll feel amazing for a few weeks or so; only to then feel something inside me snap.
And, like clockwork, when the snap happens, I will find myself being compelled by some powerful, undefinable source to stop doing the things that elevate me in exchange for one or many of the old destructive behaviors that keep me from being my best. I can witness it happening, but cannot seem to overpower the urge to continue the downward spiral.
I’ve never understood why I was so powerless to change those behaviors, even (and especially) when I was aware of doing them, and aware of how much I didn’t want to be. It’s not as if these are even enjoyable experiences. They are just familiar and they keep me working at my imprinted status quo.
Thanks to The Continuum Concept, I have a clearer understanding of why I do this, and why it feels so impossible to act against it. I don’t feel that this clarity gives me license to just accept that this is what is and will always be. But I do feel like understanding the psychobiological underpinnings of this behavior allows me to have a little more grace with myself as I work to create a new imprint for myself.
This concept seems to layer nicely with Lacy Phillips’ Manifestation concepts. Her teachings include Shadowcraft and Reparenting programs which can help those of us with broken or interrupted continuums to rewrite those early imprinted stories. I gained a lot from working through her programs. Having created that foundation of deep inner reprogramming from my experiences with those workshops, I feel better equipped to dive in and start chipping away at that broken original imprint of what life is that was formed when I came into this world to an interrupted continuum experience.
So, now for the deep and intense interplay with my subconscious. Am I scared? Yup. Am I feeling resistance? Oh, hell yeah. Am I going to do my best to trudge forward anyway? Absolutely.