Rainbow After Dark

Rainbow Ohreinsof

Whispering into the void, exploring the paradox of connection and disconnection, trauma and healing, intuition and intellect, and sometimes reality itself. Join me as we unravel the threads of the human experience—through philosophy, science, embodiment, and the ever-growing list of ‘ologies’ that help us make sense of it all. If you’ve ever felt lost in the dark or like you’re piecing together something bigger, even if the parts don’t seem to fit at first, you’re in the right place. Because in the end, it’s all connected. Species: Human (probably) / Alignment: Chaotic Good (usually) / Habitat: Liminal Spaces / Known For: Being existential, parenting the cutest corgi, creating in all mediums, leaving small objects in public places (on purpose), petting plants and moss, collecting ideas and oddities, whispering into the void (and listening in case it whispers back)

Episodes

  1. 05/02/2025

    The Alchemist’s Laboratory

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! Note: This episode includes emotionally vulnerable reflections on trauma, spiritual disillusionment, and the ongoing process of healing. While not graphic, the tone is raw and candid, including moments of frustration and tenderness. Please listen with care, especially if you are in a sensitive emotional state. As always, take what serves you and leave the rest. In this tender episode of Rainbow After Dark, I invite you into the heart of my inner process—where emotion, intuition, and discernment meet in real time. I’ll share from the raw edge of my own sensitivity, and speak on what it means to feel deeply in a world that often rewards disconnection. With a nervous system shaped by trauma and a healing path rooted in embodiment and self-trust, we’ll explore the slow, courageous work of emotional alchemy: metabolizing emotion into wisdom without bypassing or self-abandonment. Together, let’s challenge the polished narratives of mainstream spirituality. I offer a compassionate critique of ideas like “high vs. low vibrational emotions,” affirming instead that all feelings are inherently worthy of presence. To quote myself: “There’s no such thing as a low or high vibrational emotion, okay? I will die on this hill.” This was recorded in a moment of real-time vulnerability, and The Alchemist’s Laboratory is more than a conversation—it’s a lived example. In a nuanced return to my own intuition, I’ll model how to stay with what’s real, even when it’s messy or uncomfortable. This is an offering to those who feel deeply, who question spiritual shortcuts, and who are learning—again and again—that their sensitivity is not a flaw but a compass. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 8: “The Alchemist’s Laboratory”: Hello, hello. If you don’t know, I’m Rainbow, and this is Rainbow After Dark. And this is the third time I’ve tried to record this episode. Not because I’m trying to make it perfect, but because the first time I screwed up the audio. I was working in a different way than I have done the other episodes—the other episodes in the past—and I, yeah… I ended up screwing up the original audio file and I couldn’t fix it and I wasn’t about to release it the way that I could release it so I recorded it again, and… it was… fine… but it didn’t feel right. And while I am done holding myself to some sort of unachievable and, like, unrealistic standard, I have really had to come face to face with my perfectionistic tendencies, especially in recent years. Because of what I want to talk about in this episode, it felt really important for me to do it in a way that felt right to me. So, third time’s a charm. We’re doing this again. If you’re listening in, welcome. It’s good to have you here. Yeah. Let’s get into it. So, today, what are we talking about? I want to talk about alchemy. Not in the practical sense—you know, turning lead to gold—but more in an emotional sense. I wanna talk about emotional alchemy, our intuition, and the philosophy of becoming. So if that sounds good to you, please stick around. Let me know your thoughts if you listen to the episode, I would love to hear how this lands for you. So, what is alchemy? Alchemy is a transmutation process, right? It’s taking something and turning it into something else. It is generally considered, like, you have to have an equivalent exchange, right? If you’ve seen Fullmetal Alchemist you know they talk about this. It’s a whole fantasy perspective of it, but it still kind of applies here, right? You have to have something that you want to understand and break down and turn into something else. So what does that mean for emotional alchemy?And quite simply, it’s utilizing your emotions as fuel. However, I feel like the way we get taught to do this—if we get taught to do this at all—is a whole freaking mess. Emotions are a big thing for me. Emotions, in some ways, are everything. We as humans are emotional. We are our emotions, and that’s not something that people like to think about especially because so many emotions are shamed and demonized. We’re taught to avoid them, to bypass them, to compartmentalize them, to cut ourselves off from our sense of being. Some people say emotions are energy in motion, and so, if we as human beings are essentially energy in motion, we are emotions. We are our emotions. And that doesn’t meant that you have to wholly identify with being the emotion. Like, you aren’t, you know, just anger or sorrow or whatever it is, right? But those feelings… they catalyze you to propel forward. There is nothing that you would achieve without utilizing the underlying emotions. Now, the way we do this—energy—emotions are not problems to solve, okay? They’re not something to fix and they are not something to change. I feel like one of the things that we talk about a lot when it comes to emotions is: don’t be, you know, controlled by your emotions, and you can change, and you can control how you feel, blah blah blah blah, and like… okay, I get it. Some emotions are uncomfortable, but none of them are worthless, none of them are inherently harmful, and the problem is that we’re taught that that’s true. Or we see people who harness emotions in ways that are harmful, that are detrimental. So we learn that. And then we learn that we have to fix our feelings. But feelings are just feelings. That’s what they are. They are feelings and they are giving you information. Everything is information. Feelings are no exception. Feelings, emotions… they are sacred, okay? They are important. They are messengers. They are wisdom. They are here to inform you about your present experiences and/or your previous experiences and how your present experience might be reflecting or echoing those previous experiences and what you need to be present with and understand about yourself and those experiences in order to move forward in alignment. I feel like, especially when it comes to the spiritual communities—spiritual field—there is a lot of demonization of emotions. There’s a lot of bypassing that is encouraged when it comes to emotions, suggesting that, well, if your, you know, natural state is, you know, bliss or whatever then you can choose to not feel suffering and blah blah blah. Look. I get it. I do. I get that there are certain emotions that are uncomfortable and I feel like part of the reason that we feel so uncomfortable with them is because we don’t know how to be present with them. There’s no such thing as a low or high vibrational emotion, okay? I will die on this hill—I will die on this hill. There’s no such thing. There is only your wholeness. Your full spectrum of experience. And that includes every emotion. Your anger comes up because it is showing you where your hurt is, what you’re protective of, where you need to set boundaries and make requests of people. It’s important and it loves you. Your grief shows you what you have loved, what you care about, what is important to you in a different flavor. ‘Cause here’s the thing—you’re gonna hear me repeat a lot of this—emotions are just different flavors of the energy, okay? They’re different flavors. They’re different textures. Different sights and scents or however you wanna put it. But ultimately, all of them carry a kernel of truth for you about your experience and what is important to you as the person you’re currently being right now—as the person who is inherent to you—who is natural to you. Even our most rejected emotions, shame and fear—I feel like these are the two that people really, really don’t wanna feel—they are highly rejected. Fear especially. We are taught—I’ve talked about fear in past episodes—and fear is one where we are often taught to overcome fear, and to fight fear, and fear is the enemy, and all this kind of stuff. No. I highly disagree with this in like, a massive way. Because through my process, this whole entire process of returning to myself, what has done the most good for me—what has helped me more than anything—has been befriending my fear. Sitting with and being present with y fear. It doesn’t mean that I have to let it control the actions that I take, the things that I do… it means listening. Stopping. Being present with it. What do you have to tell me? Because fear is not your enemy. Fear is not trying to stop you. Fear is the great illuminator. It shows you what you truly love and care about if you can untangle the web of conditioning and distortion that is held around it. The same with shame. Shame teaches us compassion. You can’t shame somebody—you can try, okay? People do this all the time. We as a culture, we try to shame people for things that they do, that we feel are not okay, right? But shame is an inside job—inside job—shame is an inside job, and shame needs to be felt. Because shame, more than anything, shows you where you are not in alignment with your truth—where you are not in integrity with yourself—where you are incoherent. And it tends to be wrapped up in all sorts of conditioning because there are aspects of our culture that try to promote and instill shame into us about certain behaviors and, you know, certain ways of being. And it’s not an easy

    56 min
  2. 04/17/2025

    Welcome Home

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! In this episode, we enter the soft, messy, ever-changing place of becoming—this is me coming home to myself in real time. This is an unscripted, vulnerable stream of thought on authenticity, emotional fluidity, embodiment, and the process of learning how to feel. Let’s explore the ways we’re often taught to hide, repress, or perform ourselves into safety—and what it means to begin shedding those layers. We’ll talk about the fear that comes up when we let ourselves be seen, the complexity of discerning between intuition and trauma responses, and the tenderness of learning how to meet all of our emotions—especially the ones that feel inconvenient or overwhelming. This is an invitation (for you and for me) to soften, to stay curious, and to practice the radical art of not abandoning ourselves. If you’re navigating your own return to self, I hope this feels like a small recognition along the way. Welcome home. 💕 Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 7 — “Welcome Home”: Hello, hello. If you don’t know, I’m Rainbow, and you’re listening to Rainbow After Dark. I would like to invite you to be here, to be present with me, and to remind you that right now you don’t need to fix or figure anything out. And this is a space of exploration, and I may very well be saying that more for myself than anyone else—and I also always just have the hope that perhaps there’s a chance that what I say could help somebody else out there. So if you’re here, if you’re joining me—welcome. I’d like to invite you into this space. I’m doing things a little differently today than I have in past episodes; I admit I feel a bit nervous about doing this. In past episodes I have worked a lot from a script and that really helped me know exactly what I wanted to say and, you know, I would adlib a bit here and there and add things that felt right, but for the most part I had a lot of my words already written out. I knew very specifically what I wanted to say and it’s not that there’s anything wrong with that, however, I also know that because of what I want to talk about in today’s episode it feels right for me to be open about that and to also admit and acknowledge that I feel nervous. This entire process of making the podcast has been kind of scary for me because even though I don’t really have much of an audience—at least right now—I’m still putting myself out there in a way where I can be seen by people. Maybe not visually so much, because you’re hearing my voice, but I feel like you know what I mean. And what I want to talk about today is rediscovering authenticity and reclaiming self. Self-reclamation. So what does that mean? What does it mean to reclaim ourselves, right? ‘Cause in some aspect, aren’t we always ourselves? Even if we’re acting out of survival mechanisms, there’s a degree of self that’s always existing and always present, and yet it’s almost like… we’re just different versions and so what is authenticity? What is true for us? How do we reclaim something like being ourselves? It feels like a really abstract concept when you really get down to it—especially when you start taking into account various frameworks, especially psychologically, biologically, spiritually, philosophically… One of the things that has been challenging for me to grapple with in this regard has been how everything, in essence, especially if you are someone who ascribes to the idea of non-duality and oneness, the idea that we are all one, we are all interconnected, everything is everything kind of situation—like, isn’t everything self? And so, anything you’re doing is technically self. Anything you’re being is technically self, right? And so in that way it becomes—it feels very—especially abstract for us to consider self-reclamation, and what that could mean, and how we go about it. I feel like we often hear the advice “just be yourself”, “just be you”, “just be yourself”, which isn’t… I have complicated feelings about this. It’s not—it’s always well meaning. You know? When somebody tells you to “just be yourself” I feel like this is something that is well meaning as a general rule, right? It’s the acknowledgement that we ideally should be able to be our authentic selves, whoever that is, and be loved and accepted for it, right? That the understanding—that if somebody doesn’t like us—if say, if we are rejected and being authentic, then, you know, we are able to discern that “oh, well, that’s just not somebody for me”, “those people weren’t meant for me”, right? And if you’re being inauthentic it’s a lot more complicated to filter that, and at the same time, most of us are really deeply conditioned—I think all of us are deeply conditioned to varying degrees—some people I think are more susceptible to conditioning than others. And also what’s interesting, too, is that you can be conditioned in a way that is actually, like, in alignment with your authenticity, but it’s still conditioning. And that’s a whole-that’s a whole thing. And it takes a lot of unraveling and a lot of examining the layers in order to discern, oh, is this-is this conditioned? Is this authentic? What’s the difference? What have I had to do in order to survive? Who have I had to become to survive? What is beneath that? What is through that? What is natural to me? What feels coherent to me as a person? Because most of us are kind of like bundles of survival strategies, right? I feel like humans are extremely sensitive. If you listened to my last episode I feel like I was extremely clear about this: we are soft, squishy, sensitive things. We are-we are emotional creatures. And to distance ourselves from that is like, exemplary of inauthenticity, right? A lot of us develop intellectualizing and being super logical as a defense mechanism, as a survival strategy. And I can understand why people do this and I also know that humans are not objective. You-we are-we are incapable of pure objectivity. And so if you think that you’re not emotional, if you think that you are, you know, if you’re purely objective then… I say this not in a way to shame you because that’s not-that’s never my goal, plus I feel like shame really is an inside job. We shouldn’t be shaming other people. This is just information. But I feel like the people who think that they’re the most objective are probably some of the least objective, right? Becase we are very subjective creatures. We are-it’s almost like we’re more purely subjective and intersubjective than we are objective. Because our entire reality is shaped by our experiences and our perception of our experiences and the way that we feel, the way that our nervous system feels, right? Unraveling what it means to be our authentic self is a complicated process and it takes a lot of commitment and a lot of compassion and even courage to be able to do that, and I also understand that not everyone has the capacity or the resources or the support to be able to do that. Because it’s also really important to acknowledge that in order to be authentic—truly authentic—we have to have some degree of safety, right? Which is-it feels weird for me to say that, as someone who has never really experienced safety. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt safe in my life. I am learning very much how to feel safe with myself and that’s been a very long and ongoing process, and I’m doing my best to learn how to be safe in relationship with and to others, which is really scary for me. And I feel like, in some ways, it’s sad because so many of us are so shaped by what we—our survival strategies—who we’ve had to become and adapt to being in order to survive, in order to continue living in this world that we have, this world that we have designed. And I often feel like even though the world we exist in is designed by humans, it’s not designed for humans. It’s pure irony. And I feel like a lot of the time we are so deeply—these survival strategies are so deeply embedded and so deeply ingrained in us that we don’t actually know who we are beneath them—we think those things are us. And we haven’t had the space or the support or the resources to really explore the idea that that might not be true. We become who we need to be in order to survive and we don’t know who we could become in order to thrive, you know? Who we could be if we were able to thrive and I feel like that’s—it’s kind of a tragedy because we are robbed of our own magic and nobody else gets to experience the magic that is us either, right? I would love to live in a world where that’s not true, you know, where we’re not all constantly striving to survive, but that we are actually allowed the space and that we are all resourced enough and supported enough that we can truly thrive and we can truly flourish beyond the frameworks that we have currently set out. The current societal expectations. Especially in the western world. You know, I can’t speak to experiences of what it’s like to exist as a person in other countries, other cultures, other than my own. I know the way it is here is absolutely not conducive to me, and probably a lot of other people, really being who is most natural and vibrant, you know?

    46 min
  3. 04/12/2025

    Soft Landing: A Gentle Practice for Returning to Yourself

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! A gentle practice for arriving in the present moment. This practice is an invitation to pause and come home to yourself, just as you are. There’s nothing to fix, no state to achieve—only space to soften, to feel, and to be. Through a simple guided journey, you’ll be gently reminded that you are not alone in what you’re holding. Using breath, body awareness, and compassionate presence, Soft Landing creates room for tenderness, regulation, and connection with your own inner wisdom. Whether you’re feeling overwhelmed, untethered, or simply needing a moment of grace, this practice offers a place to rest—a reminder that you are here, and that is enough. ——— Transcript for “Soft Landing Practice”: [Music begins] Wherever you are… You don’t need to change anything right now. You don’t need to fix, figure out, or force anything. Softly… arrive. Let yourself be right here, in this moment. As you are. Let your eyes soften… or close, if that feels safe. Bring your attention, gently, into your body. Notice where you are in space. The surfaces supporting you. The sensations you feel. You’re here. You made it. You don’t have to hold it all by yourself right now. Begin to notice your breath… Not to control it… just to notice. Like you’re watching the tide roll in and out. Inhale… Exhale… Like a wave meeting the shore. You might even let your exhale be a little longer than your inhale. Just a little. Like a sigh of relief. Let your body know: it’s okay to soften. You can’t think your way into safety. But you can feel your way there. Bring your attention now to one point of contact— Maybe your feet on the ground… Or your seat beneath you… Your back resting on a chair or wherever you are. Let that be an anchor. A place to land. A reminder: You are held. You are here. If your mind wanders, that’s okay. That’s human. Gently bring your awareness back. To your body. To your breath. To now. Notice any areas that feel tense, tight, or guarded. You don’t need to change them—just say hello. A quiet, curious hello. Maybe offer a few words like: “I’m listening.” “You don’t have to hold this alone.” “I’m here with you now.” No judgment. No rush. Just presence. See if you can invite in a sense of support. Through the ground. Through the music. Through the rhythm of your own breath. You are a soft, squishy, sensitive thing— And that is not a flaw. It’s part of your brilliance. Your nervous system is not broken. It’s been doing its best to protect you. Even when it’s been loud. Even when it’s been tired. Even when you didn’t or couldn’t understand what it needed. Maybe now, in this small moment, You can offer it a little space. A little softness. A breath of grace. Take one more slow inhale… And one long, gentle exhale… And when you’re ready… Wiggle your fingers and toes… Blink your eyes open, if they were closed… And take a moment to notice how you feel. You’re here. And that is enough. [Music fades] ——— Music Credit: “Sincerely” by Kevin MacLeod Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License creativecommons.org/licenses/… Source: incompetech.com/music/roy… Artist: incompetech.com Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. More ways to connect coming soon—stay tuned, and thanks for being here.

    6 min
  4. 04/11/2025

    Soft, Squishy, Sensitive Thing

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! Note: This episode touches on themes of fire, loss, and trauma. In this episode of Rainbow After Dark, we explore the beautiful, complicated truth of what it means to be human: we’re soft, squishy, sensitive things. We’re made of water and nerve endings, after all—fluid-filled bodies with spongey brains and tender hearts trying to make sense of a world that often demands we toughen up and disconnect. But what if our sensitivity isn’t a flaw? Let’s go on a journey through the nervous system—our body’s operating system—and the ways it silently shapes every part of our experience, from our emotions and relationships to our sense of safety and belonging. I’ll do my best to name something many of us feel: that beneath our overwhelm, anxiety, and disconnection is a nervous system doing its best in a world that rarely feels safe. This episode is a love letter to the sensitive ones, the tender-hearted, the emotionally attuned, and anyone who’s ever been told they were “too much.” It’s also an invitation—to soften, to listen, and to reconnect not just with yourself, but with the systems we live in and the culture we create together. This episode closes with a short grounding practice to help you come home to your body. Because regulation isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s about remembering your softness, reclaiming your sensitivity, and building a world where it’s safe to belong. (The longer practice mentioned in the episode is available as the “Soft Landing” Practice!) Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 6 — “Soft, Squishy, Sensitive Thing”:: Humans are pretty dang soft. The average adult human is about 55 to 60% water. We’re more liquid than solid. We’re basically some animated, sentient jello—you’ve got some solid bits to help you move around but let’s be real here… you’re soft. Squishy, even. And that’s okay. And it’s not just our bodies that are soft and squishy—we’re emotionally sensitive. Our hearts and minds are tender, whether we like it or not. We are soft, squishy, sensitive things. Despite what society would have us think about being soft, squishy, and sensitive; I’m here to affirm that even the most rough, rigid, and resilient of us (even if secretly) are soft, squishy, and sensitive at our core. It doesn’t mean we can’t be those other things (you can be more than one thing!), however, I wholeheartedly believe that you will not find a single person on this planet that is completely distanced from being soft, squishy, and sensitive, both literally and figuratively. This squishy softness is exactly what makes our nervous system such an integral part of our experience. It’s super sensitive, and it’s in charge of more than our egos often want to admit. It picks up on energy, it controls how we feel, how we react, and how we connect with our reality. Before we get into this; I’m not a doctor or a therapist or a certified anything—I’m a Fellow Human™ who has spent a long time navigating the human experience and realizing my life is some sort of chaotic science experiment. I have lived through enough plot twists to qualify as a case study. Although I can’t offer medical advice, I can offer my story—and maybe some language and frameworks that might help someone else make sense of things. I hope you appreciate my metaphors. If you’re a human (if you’re listening to this, I am assuming you’re a human) who has ever been told “you’re too sensitive!” that “you need to toughen up!” or to “grow some thicker skin!”, this is for you. So, humans… we’re these jiggly, fluid-filled meat suits walking around with our tender little feelings and spongey brains, and we needed a system to keep all of it coordinated. Enter (insert boss music): the nervous system. AKA: the body’s communication superhighway. It’s not just about reflexes or those weird twitches when you’re falling asleep—hypnagogic jerks or whatever they’re called—it’s literally your operating system. It’s the reason you can move your hands, feel your feelings, freak out about that email you forgot to send or that other thing you forgot to do (you know the one). The reason you cry when a dog or cat looks at you with their cute little face, or get totally overwhelmed in the grocery store. It is all the nervous system. It’s like a squishy sponge of sorts—it absorbs all the signals in our environment and filters them through our internal lens of safety—or lack thereof. Even though this thing is running the show, most of us never really learned how it works—or how to take care of it. I mean, it’s called the ‘nervous’ system, and yet no one thought to mention that it might be connected to, I don’t know, feeling nervous? Anxious? Burned out? Wild. As I mentioned, the nervous system is basically like your operating system or your body’s internal Wi-Fi network. Except it’s much faster than any Wi-Fi, much older than any software we’ve ever built (or anything we’ve ever built, period), and it never turns off—even when you sleep. It lets you feel things, move, breathe, digest food, doom-scroll, cry during an ASPCA commercial, or every time you watch a Pixar movie. It’s electric, it’s chemical, and it is deeply relational. It’s also incredibly sensitive—kind of like that one friend who picks up on every subtle shift in a room’s energy (me, I’m that friend). Except that friend is also in charge of regulating your breathing, your blood pressure, your ability to focus, your muscle tension, your sense of time, and your reaction to someone asking you, ‘Hey, can we talk?’ And here’s The Thing: if that system gets overwhelmed or disrupted—and for a lot of us, it has, over and over and over and over and over again—sometimes on a daily basis—it doesn’t only impact your body. It changes your thoughts. Your emotions. Your sense of self. Your capacity for connection. It even shapes what kind of world you believe is possible. And when we’re all navigating our own dysregulation, it’s no surprise we live in a world that reflects this kind of disconnection. Our culture encourages disconnection; it pushes us to preform, to shut down, to keep moving even when our bodies—and nervous systems—are screaming for rest. When your body is constantly in survival mode—when it doesn’t feel safe to rest, to feel, to connect—it doesn’t just change you. It changes what kind of culture we create. A society full of dysregulated people will build systems that reflect that dysregulation. Control. Dominance. Scarcity. Disconnection. And the longer we ignore that, the more we normalize it. So, let’s talk about this beautifully complex, often overlooked, and deeply sensitive system that shapes our entire human experience: the nervous system. If you’ve ever found yourself crying at a stoplight for no apparent reason, forgetting how to breathe because someone used that tone, or staring at the ceiling at 3AM contemplating the collapse of civilization and why that one person hasn’t texted you back—it’s not just you “being dramatic.” It’s your nervous system doing its best to interpret a confusing world with limited information and ancient wiring. Bless its little electrochemical heart. Your nervous system is not just this biological thing that controls your heartbeat and digestion and makes your eyelid twitch when you’re stressed. It’s also the system that helps you decide if it’s safe to love, to rest, to speak up, to be seen. It’s the part of you that’s scanning your environment constantly, asking: Am I okay? Is this safe? Can I soften here? And for a lot of us—the answer has been “no” for a really long time. When we talk about disconnection, we’re not just talking about the kind where you forget to respond to a text or ghost someone (although, yes, that too). We’re talking about a physiological disconnection: from the body, from self, from safety, from other people, and from the moment we’re in. It’s not a personality flaw—it’s an adaptation. A brilliant one, actually. If your body had to shut down certain signals, numb out feelings, or go on high alert to survive something that didn’t feel survivable… that wasn’t a failure. That was intelligence. That was your body protecting you. But those same protective strategies—when they stay switched on for years or even decades—sometimes generations—they start to become the thing that keeps us stuck. Personally, relationally, and collectively. On a personal level, disconnection can feel like being trapped in your own mind. Like no matter how much you journal, talk it through, try to “figure it out,” something still doesn’t shift. Like there’s a delay between what you know and what you feel. It can look like burnout, anxiety, hyper-independence, chronic illness, self-sabotage, numbing, or just feeling like you’re not fully here. (Raise your hand if you’ve ever disassociated during a conversation and came back to earth just in time to nod like you knew what the heck was going on.) In relationships, dysregulation can sound like: “Why do I feel so anxious around this person?” “Why do I shut down when they get too close?” “Why do I keep choosing the same kind of p

    30 min
  5. 04/04/2025

    Golden Sheep Have Gilded Fleece

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! In this episode of Rainbow After Dark, we explore the paradox of being both cherished and cast aside, inspired by the myth of Chrysomallos—the golden ram from Greek mythology. As someone who has lived the experience of being both the “golden child” and the “black sheep”, I found deep resonance in this story and how it reflects the roles we inherit in dysfunctional family systems. How do these roles shape our sense of worth? What happens when we realize that our value isn’t in what we sacrifice, but in who we truly are? Through mythology, personal reflection, and a deep dive into family dynamics, I invite you to question the roles you’ve been assigned—and imagine what it might feel like to step beyond them. You are more than what you give. You always have been. Thank you for being here. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 5 — “Golden Sheep Have Gilded Fleece”: Hello, hello! I’m Rainbow, and you’re listening to Rainbow After Dark. Today, we’re going to talk a bit about how family dynamics influence our personal identity. There’s something powerful about finding the right information or the right story at the right time. I’ve always been a fan of mythology and was I particularly interested in Greek and Egyptian mythology when I was a kid. Recently, I learned about Chrysomallos (I believe that’s how you pronounce it, I looked it up before I recorded this), Chrysomallos is the golden ram, who is the origin of the constellation Aries. As an Aries myself and as someone who has affectionately referred to themselves as a “golden sheep” since I have an experience as being both the golden child and a black sheep, this felt almost too on the nose. A few days ago I felt prompted to look more into the myth of Chrysomallos and found that I had a deep personal recognition with what I learned about him. What struck me in particular was that Chrysomallos, this golden ram, is not only the origin of the Aries constellation, but is also a being that was both valued and discarded. When I learned this it really hit me, and it led me to further reflect on my own life and how, like Chrysomallos, I have also been revered and cast aside, seen as precious and also disposable. This myth felt like it was about me, like, personally; specifically about my complicated relationship with identity and the roles I’ve been assigned in my family and in relationships. Before I talk more about how the myth connects to my story, here’s a quick summary in case you’re not familiar with the myth: Chrysomallos was sent by the nymph Nephele to save her children Phrixus and Helle, but only Phrixus survived. After being sacrificed to Zeus, his golden fleece became a symbol of incredible value—this is the golden fleece that is also from the myth of Jason and the Argonauts—but Chrysomallos was discarded once his task was completed. This paradox felt like it mirrored my own life. I understand that the ancient Greeks saw sacrifice a bit differently than we might see this now—it was considered an honor and Chrysomallos was exalted through this sacrifice—but he didn’t really seem to have a choice in the matter and I cried when I was reflecting on this. This contradiction—being both sacred and forsaken—it made me realize how the roles we’re given, especially within family systems, can create this same paradox in our own lives. Just like Chrysomallos—both a hero and a sacrifice—many of us find ourselves cast into specific roles within our families. These roles often feel both precious and burdensome. Just like Chrysomallos’ worth was undeniable even though he was ultimately discarded, I’ve experienced the same paradox in my own life, so let’s talk about roles in dysfunctional family systems. In dysfunctional family systems, we might hear about roles such as the “golden child” or the “hero”, the “black sheep” or the “scapegoat”, the “lost child”, or the “mascot”. These roles are typically assigned to family members based on the family’s needs and dysfunctions. This isn’t something done consciously or intentionally, it isn’t like we get name tags or anything like that, but these roles occur frequently enough that they’ve been observed repeatedly and given names like these. They are ways for the family to cope with chaos and instability by casting members of the family into certain positions depending on the circumstances. You might usually be one of the roles, or exclusively one of these roles, but you can also be more than one or even all of them. When I was a kid, I often found that I moved between these roles. I could be any of them but there were two that I took on most often: I was the golden child—aka the ”good” one, the one who did everything right, who took on responsibility and carried the emotional load for others. Conversely, I was also a black sheep—I was often cast aside or neglected when things got difficult. My parents didn’t really see me and often dismissed my needs, and my siblings ridiculed and ostracized me. This fluctuation between being valued and discarded created internal chaos. One moment, I felt like I was special, the one who could do no wrong, someone whose presence mattered. And the next, I felt like I was an outcast, I was overlooked or I was even sometimes blamed for things that I had no control over. This paradox—the tension between being adored and cast aside—is exactly what I felt growing up. I found myself both celebrated for what I could offer and, at times, discarded when I was no longer useful. This created a sense of confusion and instability in my own identity. The contradiction of being both cherished and discarded has a profound impact on how we understand ourselves. It creates a sense of internal instability, a deep confusion about where we truly belong. Am I the golden child or the am I the black sheep? Am I the hero or the scapegoat? Am I someone who is worthy of love and acceptance, or am I someone to be used when necessary and then cast aside? This internal conflict felt extremely complicated because I never fully embodied just one role. I wasn’t just the good child or the problem child; I was both, switching back and forth depending on the family dynamic. This duality made it difficult for me to know who I truly was outside of these roles. I got so caught up in navigating the space between being seen and unseen, valued and discarded—I lost touch with who I was—with my own authentic self. I felt like I needed to be perfect to be loved and accepted; if I could just be perfect, maybe everyone would just stop fighting. But I also rebelled against the dynamic and I didn’t recognize these behaviors were also a result of my conditioning until more recently. This experience is not unique to me; it’s a reflection of the collective trauma many of us carry, especially those who grew up in dysfunctional family systems. The pressure to fit into one of these roles can make it incredibly difficult to form a stable sense of identity. When we are constantly switching between roles, it becomes hard to trust ourselves or know who we truly are underneath those labels that other people gave us. What really stuck with me about the story of Chrysomallos was that he was revered for his mission, but his worth ultimately reduced him to the golden fleece—coveted but disposable. They may have felt like they were honoring him, I suppose… but did anybody ask Chrysomallos what he wanted? This felt familiar based on my own experiences in my own relationships. I’ve often felt like I was praised and valuable for what I could offer, and then I was abandoned once I was no longer needed. And this has led me to really question my worth. Reflecting on these contradictions—being both revered and discarded—I’ve wondered if a lot of us experience this same paradox. Maybe we’ve been given roles that don’t truly define us, like, as we really are—or we’ve internalized what others have told us we should be. What if we chose to step outside of those roles? What if we could reclaim ourselves in the process? The golden fleece of Chrysomallos symbolizes immense worth, and it also speaks to the weight of expectation. Being seen as “special” or “chosen” often comes with the burden of meeting others’ needs, being everything for everyone, losing sight of your own needs in all of it. The golden fleece wasn’t just a gift—it was a burden. Chrysomallos’ value was not about who he truly was, it was about what he could offer others. I have often felt the same—like I was honored for my gifts, appreciated for my talents, but I was trapped by the expectations that other people had of me. The perception of worth, especially when tied to external validation, can easily become a tool of control. When others place us on a pedestal, it’s easy to feel like we’re being both honored and restricted. Which I suppose makes sense if you think about literally if someone were to put you on a pedestal—like, you’d, you know, you’d be elevated above other things that aren’t on the pedestal, but you also just have the little platform on the pedestal to move around on, right? And you’ll do everything you can to stay on the pedestal because you know what it feels like when you fall off of it

    21 min
  6. 03/28/2025

    Popcyclical

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! Healing isn’t linear—it’s messy, cyclical, paradoxical, and often feels like we’re back where we started. But what if we’re actually spiraling forward? In this episode of Rainbow After Dark, we explore the nature of cycles—how they show up in nature, our bodies, and our healing journeys. From the moon’s phases to the rewiring of old patterns, we’ll dive into why we revisit wounds, how our bodies process healing on their own timeline, and why self-compassion is essential when it feels like we’re ‘going in circles.’ Because sometimes, moving through is the only way forward. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 4 — “Popcyclical”: Hello, hello! Welcome! If you don’t know, I’m Rainbow, and this is Rainbow After Dark. Last time, we got friendly with the dark, and today we’re going to talk more about cycles. When you think about cycles, what comes to mind? For me, it’s the moon—I love the moon, and I love observing the way her cycles affect me personally, as well as humans collectively, and, y’know, all the nature-y sort of stuff—the tides and all that… animals, too, there’s a lot of different animals that are affected by the moon. Maybe you think about life cycles, or the water cycle, or a washing machine, a bicycle, something like that. Those work, too. I feel like as humans our brains often want to operate in a fairly linear fashion, and I don’t know, y’know this could be something that we’ve conditioned ourselves to do versus something that’s actually natural to us, but when it comes to healing we sometimes seem to think that progress and healing and growth are linear, but they’re not. Even if sometimes we wish they were. If you think about nature, cycles are everywhere: the moon’s phases, the changing of the seasons, the way water moves through the earth and the atmosphere. There’s always a rhythm, a flow, even—the way things flow, it tends to come back around. It might be different each time that it does, but it still does it. Spring this year might not be the same as Spring last year, but it’s similar enough for us to call it Spring, right? To denote on the calendar that we have an equinox for the Springtime and the Autumn, for the Summer and the Winter. To notice the phases of the moon as it waxes and wanes and becomes full or dark for the new moon. When it comes to healing, just like nature, it works in sort of a cyclical-cyclical pattern. I don’t know why “cyclical” is such a hard word for me to say, but here we are. We revisit old wounds in new ways. Sometimes it feels like the way we’re revisiting these things, we’re ‘back at square one,’ or we’re regressing, or we haven’t made any progress at all… but in reality, we’re moving through them differently. We’ve gathered other experiences and perspectives that, y’know, help us level up. You can insert the Mario, Super Mario noises in here again if you would like. When we experience trauma, y’know, any kind of trauma—big T trauma, little t trauma—if it’s wounding you, it’s trauma, you know? It can become something that cycles within us. I feel like a lot of the times we’ll experience the wounds externally in cycles, but it also is-it’s an internal process, right? We will revisit these wounds, both internally and externally, but each time it’s not exactly the same. It might feel really, really familiar—especially depending on circumstances, context, various variables—but it’s never exactly the same. I like to think of it like a spiral—you keep moving forward, even if it feels like you’re returning to the same place. But you’re not. You are shifting perspectives and you’re growing. Even if it’s just, you know, like a teeny tiny little bit, right? You’ve garnered some new information each time that will allow you to keep kind of moving in an upward sort of pattern. Moving through the different layers and, I wanna say it’s like distilling the distortion in a way—you’re moving through the distortion and seeing things with an increasing amount of clarity as you do it, if, hopefully you are growth oriented and doing your best to be aware of yourself and conscious of your patterns and behaviors and things like that. The way I think that—even if it’s not something that’s kind of like, in your conscious mindset, even if someone is deeply instilled in subconscious patterns, it’s probably something that’s still happening beneath the surface. It’s just, maybe, harder to see. You can find yourself facing old patterns, old triggers, or even emotions about things that you thought you already worked through. I know I’ve experienced this a lot where it’s like, “I thought—I thought we processed this. Like, I thought we—we did this already.” But it’s coming up with new layers and I feel like, especially when you’re really deep in the trenches of something, especially—especially—if something that you are now processing has been deeply suppressed and/or repressed, then you kind of like bring it up in little bits. But you have more information each time you do it. And sometimes too, it’ll come back up so that you can actually see that you’re not in the same space. But when you’re really deep in those trenches, especially if you’re dealing with stuff that has been really deeply embedded and really deeply repressed or suppressed… then it tends to take a lot more time and more visitations. And that can feel frustrating or discouraging, and you might feel like you’re ’back in the past’ or that you’re just doing—rehashing things over and over again… that you’re not actually making progress, or you’re even backsliding. But I feel like the key is understanding that it’s actually a part of the process. Like I said, I’ve noticed this for my own process, my own journey. One of the biggest things has been working through abandonment wounds from childhood, and they have just—it’s something that I’ve experienced over and over again as an adult in a myriad of ways. Both through self-abandonment as well as experiences within my relationships. And all kinds relationships—a lot of the time people think about how abandonment wounds affect romantic relationships, which I’ve absolutely experienced—and I’ve also experienced it, y’know, familially, obviously, given the childhood nature of the wounding… but friendships, and just, if it’s a type of relationship you can have I have I have probably had the abandonment wounding show up in some way at some point. So… there’s a lot of—there’s a lot of paradox in—there’s a lot of paradox in the whole healing process. It’s very cyclical, it’s nonlinear. It’s… yeah. Healing isn’t linear—it is messy, it is cyclical, it’s paradoxical. Sometimes we expect or hope for one big moment of transformation or like we’re, quote-unquote “fixing” it… but it is not like flipping a switch. At least not in my experience. It’s more like a slow rewiring process of, like, you know, the whole thing. And you can think about it like wiring a switch, too—y’know, if you have these really deeply ingrained patterns, these really, really deep wounds and you’re learning how to be in a different way? You’re learning how to operate and function in a completely new way… like it, it is a process of, like, revisiting and just unwiring and rewiring and going through all of that. And, like, if you think about how if somebody is wiring, y’know, a light switch or something… like, please forgive me, I know basically nothing about electrical—y’know, electrical stuff—but from my basic knowledge if you are to wire a light to a light switch you have to have the wires wired a certain way, otherwise, it doesn’t matter how many times you flip the switch, it’s not gonna turn on. It’s just not. And you might have to, like, move the wires around until you actually have the configuration that allows you to finally flip that switch and turn the light on. I don’t know if lights are the best example ‘cause I feel like, from the little I do know, they’re fairly, like, it’s usually just a couple of wires. But, it’s beyond me. Point is it’s a metaphor. Hopefully it makes sense to you. It’s something that’s kind of helped me to make sense of the whole process because I often felt like I should just… be… done with it or something? But you’re never—you’re never really done with it. You know? You’re always going to keep finding new layers and uncovering new information for you to integrate throughout the entire process of you being alive. And that’s just the nature of the human experience. Healing is very—it’s a, you know, it’s—you have seasons, like anything. Like nature, you have seasons, too. You know, sometimes it’s Spring and we’re full of growth, renewal, and… you know, all the—all the beautiful life that comes with what you think of Springtime. And then other times it’s winter, and you could feel dormant or lost or you might just need to hibernate. Through the whole process, we’re gonna have setbacks. And… sometimes we might feel like those rest periods or setbacks or when we feel like regressing… is like a “bad” sign, but sometimes it—I feel like it’s actually

    24 min
  7. 03/21/2025

    Into the Dark

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! What happens when we stop running from the dark—when we step into it, hold it, and let it hold us? In this episode, we explore the depths of darkness—not just as pain or suffering, but as a space for transformation. Through my personal reflections on trauma, identity, and healing, let’s examine how darkness can be a guide rather than something to fear. From childhood wounds and chronic pain to relationship patterns and self-abandonment, I’ll share how facing the unknown led to clarity and growth. Healing isn’t linear—it’s messy, cyclical, and paradoxical. But in the dark, we find ourselves. Join me as we illuminate the shadows, embracing the unseen and uncovering the wisdom that waits within. Don’t forget to give the darkness a hug, too. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 3 — “Into The Dark”: Hello, hello. It’s Rainbow, and today… we’re going into the dark. I’m sure you’ve been there. When you’ve felt that shift, when you realize you’re standing on the edge of something unknown. You might be scared to step forward, but you can’t go back. The dark is uncomfortable. It’s heavy. It’s full of everything we don’t want to look at, everything we’ve buried. And it’s where healing begins. That’s what we’re talking about today—what it means to step into the dark, to hold it—to let it hold us, to learn from it instead of running from it. And just like anything else in healing, the dark is not just about pain. It’s paradox. Because when we feel lost? That’s when we find ourselves. When we feel alone? We begin to truly understand connection. So let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about the dark—the ways it shaped me, the ways it shapes all of us. I’ve had a complicated relationship with darkness. For a lot of people, it’s something you avoid and on a subconscious level I was conditioned this way too, even when, ironically, I didn’t really shy away from the dark aspects of being human most of my life—I almost seemed to revel in it. But we aren’t really taught how darkness can guide us. We’re taught to fear it, to avoid it, to reject it. In a way, that makes sense. The unknown is, well, it’s unknown. Human brains and nervous systems aren’t big fans of that. And as a human, I can understand that. My earliest experiences with the dark weren’t exactly safe. I was adopted from birth, and from the outside, my family looked… fine, I guess? For the most part. I came from a family of seven—I have four brothers and some people even seemed to envy having a big family. They’d tell me how wonderful it must be, but, y’know, people have their own perceptions of what a family like mine must be like. In one of my classes when I was in high school, my family issues ended up with the word “family” being embraced as “the f word”. My family was deeply dysfunctional and I consistently felt disconnected—I felt like I had to be something other than myself in order to be loved. I was usually the “good one,” “the golden child”, I was generally well-behaved—I was the one who didn’t cause problems. You know, that’s where you get perfectionism. And at the same time, I was a “black sheep”—I never belonged, I was unseen by my parents, I was ostracized by my siblings, and I felt things too deeply and saw things that nobody else wanted to talk about. I learned early on that connection didn’t always mean being seen. Sometimes, it meant playing a role. Sometimes, it meant keeping parts of myself hidden. I felt like I had to stay in the dark to survive. And that kind of disconnection? It does not stay in your mind. It lives in your body. I was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome in 2018–for reference, I graduated high school in 2008–but my body had been hurting for a long time before that. I’ve dealt with chronic pain since I was a teenager. I dealt with a lot of darkness when I was growing up, even before the pain started to present itself physically. I thought at one point that physical pain might actually be easier to deal with than the emotional pain I felt when I was younger, but once the physical pain became constant I was often looking to escape from myself, from my experiences… I wished I didn’t have to have a body, or that I didn’t have to exist at all. I’m pretty sure my body has been telling the same story that my heart has—instability, unpredictability, everything falling apart at the seams. My physical pain was mirroring my emotional pain, but I didn’t have words for that. I just knew something wasn’t right. It seemed like I didn’t need much to sustain me. I felt like I’d done a lot with neglect. But what would happen if I got what I needed to truly thrive, and not just survive? If I was nourished enough to flourish? Who could I become? What could I do? And what if everyone else was given what they needed to thrive, too? The thing about living in the dark is that, eventually, you forget that there’s anything else. Or maybe you never knew that there was. You have to adapt. You normalize it. You don’t question it. It just becomes the way things are. Until something happens and you are forced to see it differently. A few years ago, I hit a turning point that made all of this painfully clear. It wasn’t the first time I realized that things needed to change, but it cracked me open in a way that nothing else had. It was a relationship—one of many that followed a similar painful pattern. If you know, you know. You know, the kind where you’re doing everything you can to be enough, to be what they want and need, to prove that you are worthy of love. The kind where you lose yourself and don’t even realize it. Or you wonder if you ever even knew who you were to begin with. I wanted so badly for it to work. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would just work somehow. That I could do whatever it took to make it work. But it wasn’t working—not just the relationship, but me. The way I moved through the world. The way I was being in connection. The way I ignored my own needs. The way I believed love meant sacrifice, that love meant enduring. That love meant pain. I couldn’t run from myself anymore. I had to sit with all of this. I got to choose to sit with it—to stop looking outward—at what they or anyone else was or wasn’t doing, at what I could fix or change—and to face inward, to look inward. Into the dark. When you’re in the dark and you see a sudden flash of light, it’s disorienting. The contrast makes shadows seem deeper and darker. Your eyes have to adjust. Maybe that’s why we resist clarity—why we resist healing. When you’ve adapted to the dark, light can feel less like illumination and more like exposure. But once you have clarity—once you see, you can’t unsee. I mean, I guess you could try, you could pretend… but… I feel like in most cases that ends up a lot more painful than going through it. I know for me, once I really saw myself—my patterns, my fears, my pain—I couldn’t keep moving the same way. I had to change everything. It was terrifying. And it was liberating. Just like a seed has to sit in darkness before it sprouts, I see the process as cyclical. Darkness is not an interruption—it’s integral. Every time I’ve needed to face uncertainty, grief, deep rest; I changed—I softened, I was restructured, I became ready for something new. I used to think healing meant reaching a state of constant clarity. But light can be overwhelming—you give a plant too much sunlight and it burns. If you sit in the sun you can get a burn, too. If you try to come out of darkness too quickly, it’s disorienting, like when you go outside after you’ve been sitting in a dark room. Brightness can distort before it illuminates. I’ve learned to move between these states with more grace, to trust that retreating and going into my inner world doesn’t mean I’m regressing, and emerging does not mean I have all the answers. Healing isn’t linear. It feels messy and chaotic. Sometimes it feels like you’re going in circles, but it’s a spiral, and each time you return to the dark, you’re not starting over—you’re leveling up. Like, insert Mario noises or something in here. And healing doesn’t happen in isolation. Or, you know, it’s not meant to. It’s all in relationship, even with ourselves. But when you’ve been hurt in relationships, connection doesn’t always feel safe. It can feel really risky. It feels like the most unsafe thing you could possibly do, even if you aren’t consciously aware of it. I’ve struggled with that a lot—the push and pull between wanting to be close to people and being afraid of what closeness could mean. Between craving connection and needing distance. Between loving people and not knowing if I could trust them. Not knowing if I could trust myself. For most of my life, I didn’t even realize I was struggling with this. I just thought I was anxious. Traumatized. I couldn’t see the depths of it when I already felt like I was in over my head. Sometimes it felt like I was the only one who hadn’t learned how to breathe underwater. Years ago, when I started doing shadow work, I realized just how much of that fear came from inside of me. From the parts of myself that I hadn’t fac

    24 min
  8. 03/14/2025

    Connecting the Dots

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! In this episode, we’re going on a personal journey through chronic pain, illness, and the revelation that these struggles are more than just physical—they’re neurological. After being diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) at 28, I thought I had the answer, but years of persistent pain led me to a profound realization: the root of my discomfort wasn’t just my body, but my nervous system. I explore how disconnected, survival-driven societal structures contribute to widespread nervous system dysregulation, leaving many of us stuck in a state of arrested development. I reflect on my own experiences with chronic illness, mental health diagnoses, and trauma, revealing how our nervous systems adapt to unsafe environments, often carrying invisible wounds that we can’t recognize. I’ll dive into the science of epigenetics, the link between trauma and physical health, and how this systemic disconnection can shape our biology in ways we might not expect. This episode is an invitation to rethink how we view mental and physical health—not as isolated issues, but as interconnected expressions of the trauma and disconnection we’ve inherited. It’s a reminder that healing requires more than just a change in mindset—it calls for a deeper, body-based connection to ourselves and others. Tune in for an exploration of resilience, survival adaptations, and the urgent need for healing that goes beyond symptoms. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 2 — “Connecting the Dots”: Hello, fellow humans. Since you’re here, listening to me, I’d like to tell you a story. For nearly as long as I can remember, I’ve lived with chronic pain and illness. By the time I was a teenager, pain had become a nearly constant companion. I spent years being treated like a medical mystery—like a guinea pig, or a puzzle that no one seemed able to solve. When I was 28 years old, I was finally diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, also known as EDS, a genetic connective tissue disorder—and I thought: this is it. I finally have the answer. But that was only the beginning. Fast forward to 2024, and I was in physical therapy for my shoulder pain. Again. I had spent years working on my body—building strength, stabilizing my joints, doing everything I was supposed to do. And then I realized something: The pain I was experiencing wasn’t physiological anymore. It was neurological. My brain hadn’t updated to recognize that I was safe. My nervous system was still responding as if I was injured—even though, logically, I knew I wasn’t. And then, something clicked: This wasn’t just about my shoulder. This was my entire life. The same way my body had held onto old pain, my nervous system was holding onto old fear. I was responding to connection as if it were still dangerous—even when, logically, I knew it didn’t have to be. When I realized this, I felt two things: Frustration, because I had spent years doing all the right things—therapy, strengthening, stress management—and I was still in severe pain that was affecting my mobility. And I felt Relief, because it confirmed something that I’d been hoping: I wasn’t doing anything wrong. And then I started to wonder: What if this isn’t just me? What if this is all of us? We hear a lot about mental health. About trauma. We hear about depression, anxiety, loneliness. For years, I was told my struggles were mental illness. Depression. Anxiety. PTSD. At one point, I was taking multiple psychiatric medications. But what if these weren’t just ‘chemical imbalances’ in my brain? What if they were signs that my nervous system had adapted to an unsafe world? So maybe these aren’t just personal struggles. What if they’re symptoms of something deeper—something systemic? We live in a world that expects people to function in ways that don’t match how humans actually develop. There’s a concept in urban planning called desire paths. If you’ve ever seen a dirt trail cutting diagonally across a manicured lawn—one that people clearly use, even though the “official” sidewalk is somewhere else—you’ve seen a desire path. Desire paths show us something important: people move in the ways that feel natural to them, not in the ways we design for them. And our nervous systems are the same way. They don’t develop according to how we think they should. They develop in response to the conditions we actually experience. And here’s the problem: Most people never had the conditions they needed to develop a fully mature nervous system. Western culture is built on disconnection. It values: Self-sufficiency over interdependence. Productivity over well-being. And emotional suppression over attunement. From childhood, we’re taught to: Override our feelings. To suppress our needs. And to perform independence, even at the cost of our emotional and physical health. We call this resilience. But really? It’s just disconnection. When a nervous system doesn’t get what it needs to fully develop—when it never gets to experience consistent safety, attunement, and co-regulation—it adapts for survival. That means most people are stuck in some stage of arrested development—stuck in a nervous system state that was meant to be temporary, and is now their default. At first, I only saw this in myself—I had this unshakable feeling that something was missing. But over time, I started to see it in almost everyone. Most of us are carrying an invisible weight we don’t have words for. And the worst part? Most of us don’t even know it. Mental health is just as much a reflection of our nervous system’s state as our physical health. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder at 15, PTSD at 21, and at one point I was having panic attacks every single day. Most of my life I received messages that my brain was broken. I’d done a long list of therapies including talk therapy, CBT, DBT, EMDR—basically the therapeutic alphabet. But when I realized most of my interventions had been top-down processing, I shifted gears and I started to work with my nervous system through bottom-up, body-based healing, and the more I did this, more things started to change. Now, I rarely have panic attacks. I no longer take psychiatric medications. And I’ve gone from being housebound and relying on a caregiver to living independently. And it’s not because I ‘fixed’ my brain or my body. It’s because I learned to give myself something it had been searching for: self-connection. But self-connection doesn’t mean isolation—it meant learning to listen to myself so I could begin to build relationships that would support my nervous system. We already know that trauma can be passed down epigenetically. Epigenetics is about the way our environment and experiences influence the expression of our genes, without altering the genetic code. Factors such as stress and trauma can impact how certain genes are turned on or off, affecting our health and behavior across generations—so generations of stress, survival-based adaptation, and relational neglect leave marks on the body—not just psychologically, but biologically. So what if conditions like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, ADHD, and autism—just to name a few—aren’t just random genetic mutations? What if they are biological adaptations to a world that has been relationally unsafe for generations? I’ve seen this in myself in multiple ways. For most of my life, I had severe arachnophobia. I knew spiders generally weren’t dangerous, but my body did not care. No matter how much I learned about spiders and logicked my way through it, the moment I saw one? Panic attack. My nervous system overrode everything. This is what happens when fear becomes automatic. And isn’t that exactly what happens with connection? We know we need it. But if our nervous system was shaped in an environment where connection wasn’t safe? It doesn’t matter what we know—our body will still respond as if it is unsafe. Consider that: Connective tissue is what holds our bodies together. It provides structure, flexibility, and resilience. In relationships, connection does basically the same thing—it provides emotional stability, safety, and support. So what happens when connection itself is unstable? Maybe the body reflects that instability. Connective tissue disorders affect the body’s structural integrity—its ability to hold itself together. So how could we not be affected if connection and emotional attunement are missing? Research and anecdotal evidence both suggest that there’s a strong link between connective tissue disorders like EDS and neurodivergent conditions like ADHD and autism. Many people who have hypermobile connective tissue also have differences in sensory processing, emotional regulation, and cognitive function. I know this firsthand. Before I was diagnosed with EDS, I recognized myself as neurodivergent. Although I was never able to access the kind of assessment that would give me a formal diagnosis, I saw myself in those traits. Over time, I’ve come to see these not as “disorders,” but as different ways of processing the world—as adaptive responses—patterns that are shaped by the environments that shaped us. Since the origins of humanity, if peop

    23 min
  9. 03/07/2025

    Hello, I’m Rainbow

    Whisper into the void with me: https://rainbowafterdark.micro.blog Podcast is on an indefinite hiatus There may be future episodes, there may not! Thank you for listening! Welcome to Rainbow After Dark, a place where we whisper into the void and explore the weird, messy, beautiful paradox of being human. In this first episode, I introduce myself and the purpose behind this podcast—a space to connect and embrace both the light and the dark. I share a bit about my own journey, how chaos and contradiction have shaped me, and why connection—to ourselves, to others, and to life itself—is at the heart of what we’ll explore together. I’ll reflect on the complexities of existence, navigating disconnection, and how paradox is something we’re meant to live in (and embrace! give it a hug!) instead of solve. This isn’t a “how-to” guide. It’s an ever evolving experiment; a space for growth, wonder, and understanding. So, whether you’re here out of curiosity, by accident, or because you’re looking for a little light in the dark—thank you for joining me. Thanks for listening to Rainbow After Dark! If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss future ones. If something resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—feel free to leave a comment here, or on YouTube (I don’t use it much, but I exist!). This podcast is a space for reflection and exploration—it is not a substitute for professional advice. Please take care of yourself and seek support as needed. ——— Transcript for Episode 1 — “Hello, I’m Rainbow”: Hello, I’m Rainbow. I am a human on the internet—whispering into the void—and this is Rainbow After Dark. This is a space where I can move thoughts from the inside of my brain to the outside. Somewhere I can process my life out loud, and share what I’ve learned from navigating the weird, messy, beautiful paradox of being human. At its heart, this is a podcast about connection—with ourselves, with others, with life itself. So… whether you’re here out of curiosity, by accident, or because you also like whispering into the void… I’m glad you’re here. If you’ve ever found yourself caught between contradictions, questioning everything while still trying to exist? Same. And that’s what this space is for. As I said, I’m Rainbow—I am a human figuring out how to exist in this space between birth and death that we call life—in a body that, uh… I have some notes for. It’s got its own agenda.  Y’know? I often feel like a lot of my existence is outside of my control. I often feel like I’m existing in the middle of a lot of chaos. Which I suppose makes sense, y’know… my childhood… was chaotic. That’s an understatement. So I’ve always kind of existed in chaos. And, uh, I know that shaped—our environments shape all of us, and I’m no exception. And just like everyone I’ve had challenges and my life has been shaped by relentless challenges, and an equally relentless drive to understand myself and the world around me. If there’s one thing I’ve always had, though? Is an insatiable need to understand myself and basically everyone and everything else—and that’s powered by some premium, organic, homegrown audacity. And that’s where Rainbow After Dark comes in. I’ve been through a lot of dark places in my life. I want a space where the hidden, shadowy, complicated bits could come out and play with the neon-bright moments of clarity. You know, you can’t have bioluminescence without the dark, right?  It’s a space for late night thoughts, existential spirals, and the kind of insights that hit you at 3 AM. It’s a space to explore what it means to grow through all of it—not by erasing contradiction, but by learning to hold the contradictions. Maybe snuggle them a little bit. Give ‘em a hug. Because paradox isn’t something to solve… it’s something we live in. It’s a part of everything, and connection is everything.  And I know what it’s like to feel disconnected—from myself, from others, and from life itself. I wanna explore how we lose connection, how we find it again, and what it means to truly be in relationship with ourselves and our-our reality, our existence. I wanted to create a space for me to be unfiltered and honest and to turn my spirals of reflection into something that feels tangible… and maybe a little therapeutic.  I want to share my experiences in case they can help someone feel a little more connected, or more okay with the weird, messy nature of being human. This is an offering of solidarity, because if you’ve ever felt lost in the dark or like you’re failing at being human, I wan’t you to know you’re not alone. I know what it feels like to be stuck in the dark, wondering if you’re the only one trying to make sense of it all… and let’s be real, the dark gets a bad rap. It doesn’t mean it’s easy to be in a space where you can’t see forward and it feels like everything is clouded in confusion and uncertainty, but it’s also where the most growth happens, isn’t it?  My hope is that I’m creating a space where you don’t have to feel alone in that. That you can see bits of your own story in mine and know that we’re all just figuring it out, together. If I can offer a little bit of light, or some sense of recognition in the chaos… then it’s worth it. No expectations, and yet… here we are. Y’know, what-what to expect? In general, I’m—you know, I wanna be honest, raw… things are probably gonna get kinda messy. They’ll probably be paradoxical. Almost certainly. Paradoxically.  Healing isn’t linear. Growth does not always feel like progress. And being yourself is rarely as simple as people make it sound. I wanna talk about… Connection. The paradox of connection and disconnection—how our nervous systems adapt, both individually and collectively. Trauma, healing, embodiment… with a mixture of both science and some spirituality. We can ask existential questions, discuss duality, and the weird and wonderful ways that everything is connected. Our journey in regards to intuition, personal philosophy, an ever growing list of “ologies” that help us as humans make sense of all of this. And of course, whatever comes up organically. Because it’s all connected anyway. This space is evolving, just like I am. I do not have it all figured out.  But I am here. And I’m curious. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s all we need is to be here, keep asking questions, and keep exploring and growing. And ideally we can do that together.  This is not a “how-to” guide, this is not expert advice, I am not here to tell anyone what to do—these are just my experiences, my observations, and whatever independent research I’ve done. It’s not polished, it’s not perfectly curated. This is a living experiment. This is an attempt to connect, and an ongoing exploration of what it means to be human. So, listen to your intuition, take what resonates, and leave the rest.  If something I say sparks a different insight for you? Follow that thread. Feel free to share it with me. You know yourself better than I ever will. Connection is one of the most fundamental human needs. But it’s also the most complicated.  We crave closeness but we fear vulnerability… like, we’re terrified of it. Deer in the headlights, scared rabbit running away… like… it is something that I think most of us really, really struggle with. We long for belonging, but we resist being truly seen. We want connection—we need connection—but sometimes we’ve been taught, conditioned to feel safer when we’re isolated. And somehow we hold all of it.  And it’s not just emotional, it’s biological. The nervous system, like reality itself, is built on paradox and duality.  Like I said, we need connection—but if early relationships weren’t safe for us? We learn to avoid them.  We long for closeness, but our bodies and our nervous systems might respond to that closeness as a threat.  We can be wired for both trust, and self-protection. Because at some point, both were probably necessary. If relationships, especially early on, weren’t safe for us? We had to learn to adapt. And this is usually deeply subconscious. And sometimes we will adapt by reaching for connection. And sometimes we withdraw from it. And sometimes it can feel like both at the same time.  And it’s not failure. It’s intelligence. It’s survival. Paradox isn’t just something we navigate. It’s a form of connection itself. It bridges opposites, it holds contradictions, and it reminds us that the truth—whatever that is—is rarely singular.  We don’t have choose between logic and intuition, certainty and ambiguity, individuality and community. We contain all of it. And paradox threads it together. This is something I’ll explore more in future episodes—how our nervous systems adapt to disconnection, how connection and disconnection aren’t just personal struggles, but part of how we’ve adapted as individuals and as a collective.  Paradox and connection are at the heart of healing.  And I’m curious to explore what it means to built relationships that feel safe and expansive. If you’ve ever felt the ache of wanting connection, and also being afraid of it… the pull towards people while also wanting to push them away so you can protect yourself?  You’re not broken.  You’re not failing at being human.  It’s not a flaw. It’s not something to fix. It’s your nervous system doing what it learned to do so you could survive.  And if you’re here, and you’re listening to me? That means you did it! Great job! Give yourself a gold star, or a sticker that suits your own personal tastes. You’re living inside the same paradox as I am. And maybe part of healing is learning how to stop fighting the paradox and hold it with compassion instead.  Lik

    19 min

About

Whispering into the void, exploring the paradox of connection and disconnection, trauma and healing, intuition and intellect, and sometimes reality itself. Join me as we unravel the threads of the human experience—through philosophy, science, embodiment, and the ever-growing list of ‘ologies’ that help us make sense of it all. If you’ve ever felt lost in the dark or like you’re piecing together something bigger, even if the parts don’t seem to fit at first, you’re in the right place. Because in the end, it’s all connected. Species: Human (probably) / Alignment: Chaotic Good (usually) / Habitat: Liminal Spaces / Known For: Being existential, parenting the cutest corgi, creating in all mediums, leaving small objects in public places (on purpose), petting plants and moss, collecting ideas and oddities, whispering into the void (and listening in case it whispers back)