The turnoff to Toodyay appeared before me as I drove home Sunday morning from a very peaceful and nurturing retreat at New Norcia Benedictine Monastery with Virginia Jealous. ‘Ah,’ I remembered. Today was the Toodyay market day so I slowed down and swung left.

Not even 100m after the turnoff, a flicker of anxiety began. I became unsettled and the impulse to turn around was strong. ‘Did I want to go to Toodyay?’ ‘Did I want to spend money I couldn’t afford?’ ‘Would I enjoy it?’ ‘Would I feel better if I went home and got stuck into my washing and ironing?’ ‘Did I really want to drive further away from home rather than closer to it?’ ‘Would I enjoy the drive down the Brand Highway to home, or would I prefer the more scenic route through the Darling Ranges?’ Round and round my thinking went, with my body following suit.

This was familiar. Every time I ventured out spontaneously on something novel for myself, I ended up in a knot.

Experiences in our body, from anxiety to pain, signal something – but what?

We may believe that anxiety and depression arise out of chemical imbalances or genetics. But neuroscience and epigenetics have both provided deeper understanding of the powerful roles of thought and the environment in the manifestation of these symptoms. They are the ‘up stream’ factors that create the experiences and if repeated often enough, can result in chemical imbalances, or genetic activation and shutdown.

We may believe that chronic pain is due to something structural in our bodies. In the majority of cases, this is not true (although all pain sufferers should seek medical assessment to rule out tumours, infection, and fractures). In both acute and chronic pain, the brain interprets a wide range of ‘data’ before activating pain sensations. In acute injury, nociceptive impulses are sent to the brain and interpreted alongside existing ‘data’ from our pain histories, ‘getting ahead’ behaviours, the environment, and earlier experiences. On the basis of all this information, the brain creates the most useful response to ensure survival. With chronic pain, it turns out that the brain doesn’t need physical damage to create the experience. It draws on that interconnected wiring and does it completely independently.

Maybe we misunderstand the mechanisms behind chronic emotional and physical symptoms and conditions? Maybe, instead of seeing them as indicators of ‘damage’ or ‘flaw’ they are actually signals from our healthy mind/body threat system alerting us to something in our learned cognitive architecture that isn’t serving us well and is getting in the way of living life with joy, agency and ease?

My anxiety whenever I venture into something spontaneous and just for me signals something I have learned in the journey of my life. As I drive, there is no ‘ogre’ down the road. My anxiety isn’t some form of higher power telling me an accident awaits me. I haven’t made a commitment elsewhere which I have now forgotten. Nothing sits before me except the opportunity to use my time freely (it’s Sunday for goodness sake!) and to do something enjoyable (even if on my own).

‘Time’, ‘enjoyment’, and ‘solo’, and all emotionally laden terms for me. They are part of my cognitive architecture. Time ‘should’ only be used for work; ‘enjoyment’ is what I ‘should’ bring to others, not myself; and ‘solo’ suggests there is something wrong with me – a ‘good’ woman is ‘partnered’ – and ‘joy’ is therefore only experienced with others.

I have done enough reading and journalling work to have a bit of insight into the origins and manifestations of this architecture. As I slow down my car and wonder whether to continue to Toodyay or to turn around and drive home, I have options. First, I can turn away from the questions and cognitive spin giving rise to anxious feelings, and redirect my focus to the beautiful landscape whilst I drive on. Being present works. I am safe. I can also note the experience for further writing exploration when I eventually sit down with a coffee and my pen.

Our healthy mind/body threat system tells us when something is askew. It’s time we stopped being afraid and learned to appreciate its message. There are now many well developed, neuroscientificallly informed, avenues to change our understanding of ourselves and live life more fully, expressive writing being one of them. If you would like help with the process, please reach out.