Reflections after Gathering

Earlier this month, I attended Friends General Conference’s Gathering at Haverford College. I’ve been struggling to write about my experience there and afterwards. But let me try.

The Gathering was invigorating for me in many ways. I had the opportunity to connect with other Quaker and Quaker-interested young adults, many of whom were queer and/or neurodivergent. I had somewhat forgotten how amazing it feels to be among people like yourself. In the past year, my most significant interactions with other queer and neurodivergent people have been in clinical contexts — in particular, psychiatric hospitalization and an intensive outpatient program, both of which were queer-specific programs. But it is very different to relate with others when in relatively good health than when you are struggling or in crisis. It also is very special to relate with others in the context of spirituality and community-building, as there are not many such opportunities to do so in our world that tends to isolate us from one another.

Several of us young adults, in particular those of us identifying with neurodivergence, spontaneously cared for one another’s needs throughout the Gathering. We checked in with one another and offered support whenever we could. When a large number of people at the Gathering went to a direct action hosted by Earth Quaker Action Team at Vanguard’s headquarters, a few of us young adults who had sensory concerns rode in a car together rather than going on the bus so that we could be free to leave whenever we needed. Traditionally, the young adults had affinity groups form as needed during the Gathering, so I tried to convene a group centered on Madness and neurodivergence as they interact with spirituality. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to get a whole group to meet together on that topic, but I did get to connect with several people one-on-one, which I kind of prefer anyway, so it satisfied me.

All attendees of the Gathering could choose one morning workshop to attend for the whole week. My workshop was about Playback Theatre, a form of improvisational theatre in which actors re-enact stories that audience members tell. It was really fun. I got to play the roles of actor, musician, and storyteller in different moments. People in the workshop would volunteer to tell a story from their lives, and then other people would re-enact the story using one of the preset playback forms. Several people who told stories were very touched by the re-enactment of their story.

I however was actually a bit disappointed by the re-enactment of the story I told. I told a story about a time when I had a shutdown in public and, despite my explaining that I knew what was happening and that I would be okay, someone called for an ambulance, which only made me more stressed out. The re-enactment was confusing to me and didn’t really move me emotionally as I thought it would. Partly it was because the actors were less familiar with the form that the instructor told them to use for the playback, but I wonder if it also felt a little strange for me to see a bunch of older white people try to embody my experience. They were certainly very understanding and empathetic however and did their best, especially given that they weren’t necessarily experienced in acting.

One of the people in my workshop was a retired psychotherapist and author. She had a book talk at the Gathering to publicize her new book relating to grief. But in the bookstore, there was also another one of her books that pertained to the overlap of mental illness with mysticism. Basically, the argument she presents in that book is that the primary factor that distinguishes between experiences of mental illness and experiences of mysticism is the cultural context. I purchased the book, and I’ve started to read it a little bit. I feel somewhat scared to read it though, worrying that it might tempt me to skip my meds or otherwise try to encourage mystical experiences that might not be safe for me to engage in at the moment.

After the Gathering, I fell into a depressive state. Having felt so vibrant and free among people with similar interests and identities as me, I now had to shove it all back inside of me to live peacefully with my mother. The ideas in the mysticism book were also affecting me, and I felt really sad and angry at not living in a cultural context that offers me more structure and support for engaging with my Madness and not just forces me to suppress it with meds. For a week after the Gathering, I cried so much while also trying way too hard to hide my tears from my mother. Next month, I am supposed to attend a two-week music intensive in New York state, but my mother told me many, many times that if I am not “better,” then she will not let me attend. Which is totally unfair. How does she get to decide what is “better” and what I am allowed to do? I have a chronic condition that ebbs and flows, and I am learning to manage it even when things are challenging. I can’t just avoid doing things and passively wait until I’m “better.” Regardless, I could not argue with my mother, only try to prevent her perceiving my struggle. Of course, my attempts to hide only made me even more tearful and distressed.

I needed to practice piano in preparation for a concert on the 18th, but my mind was adamantly against it. I just did not want to play. Instead, I imagined running away. It became an obsession; I even looked up strategies to do so. I didn’t have a particular place that I wanted to go. I just felt like I could not live my current life, yet I still wanted to live. Perhaps it was a spiritual sickness, of wanting to go on a journey into the unknown. My spirituality is so compelling that I could abandon everything — all my current interests and relationships — for it. It took effort to prevent myself from following through with my desires. I had extra therapy sessions to try to relieve my angst. They weren’t really helpful, mostly because I felt so stuck. For a while, I couldn’t articulate my feelings. I couldn’t write, and I couldn’t express things as well to my therapist either.

Interestingly, though I struggled to get myself to practice for the piano concert, the actual performance seemed to lift my mood. I do enjoy performing; practicing just felt like work, and my spiritually sick soul just did not want to work. And soon after that, I accidentally missed a dose of my medications, which caused me to be manic for one night, until getting back on my meds knocked me out and stopped the episode from continuing. So for the moment I’m feeling a lot better, though I still get agitated when I think about the mental illness/mysticism issue. That will take time to work through.