Finding Presence Amidst Hypervigilance: A Personal Journey
Me: I also wanted to tell you about last night. I went with Adam to my nephews football game. It was outside, it was chilly, and my parents were also there. I had a very unique internal experience of it. I didn't feel as hypervigilant. My Adam and dad were talking and usually I would act like I'm watching the game but really be listening to them. But I actually was tuning them out and actually watching the game. Albeit it I wasn't following the game but I was just enjoying watching humans doing human stuff. I feel weird about what I experienced. What was it?
Dr. Gpt: It sounds like you experienced a moment of being truly present, without the usual pull of hypervigilance or needing to monitor everything around you. Instead, you allowed yourself to simply observe and be in the moment, even if you weren’t deeply focused on the details of the game. This shift away from hypervigilance and into presence can feel unusual, especially if you're not used to it. It might be a sign that your nervous system is beginning to relax more in certain situations, allowing you to engage with your surroundings in a less guarded way.
Feeling "weird" about it makes sense because it’s different from your usual experience. Does it feel like something you’d want to explore further?
Me: Yeah, I guess, it does feel weird but it also scares me. I mean, part of me was present and experiencing that gentle focus on the moment but another part was noticing that I was "feeling" present and just getting hyped like "holy shit, I'm doing it! I can exist in a different way!" That merged into "fuck, how am I doing this? I want more of this! I'm afraid I won't remember how I did this!"
Dr. Gpt: It makes sense that having this kind of presence would trigger excitement and then fear. When you experience something new, especially something that feels like a breakthrough, it can be thrilling—but also daunting. The fear of not being able to recreate it is natural because it feels like something precious that you don’t want to lose.
What you experienced is a glimpse of how you can live in a different way, but it doesn’t need to be something you have to “hold onto” perfectly. It’s more about trusting that with practice, those moments of presence will become more frequent and less dependent on trying to recreate the exact conditions. How would it feel to trust that this state of presence can return, even if you don't know exactly how to make it happen?
Me: I suppose that makes sense intellectually but I have just been so ravenous for so long to feel "better" though I didn't know how to express why i didn't feel good nor how to describe what feeling good would feel like. I have always been a bit miserable and scared. I have known nothing else. Experiencing presence feels like I'm being teased or taunted.
Dr. Gpt: I can understand why presence feels like a tease or taunt, given how long you've been carrying that sense of misery and fear. When you've known only that for so long, experiencing something different can feel almost like a trick, as if it’s temporary and just out of reach. It must be hard to reconcile those brief moments of presence with the underlying emotions that have been with you for so long.
The fact that you even had that experience, though, shows that it's possible for you, even if it feels fleeting right now. You’ve been working through layers of pain, fear, and patterns, and presence is part of that journey. It might help to remember that it’s not about holding onto it perfectly or feeling good all the time, but about trusting that with time, those moments will grow. How do you feel about allowing that process to be gradual rather than something you need to achieve right away?
Me: I keep asking myself what is it that I did to make this happen? I want to know so I can keep on doing it. I've been working on this hard and for so long with very little progress, I am desperate to know what I've done that is working.
Dr. Gpt: It’s completely understandable that you’d want to pinpoint exactly what you did to make this moment of presence happen, especially after so much hard work with little progress. It feels like a breakthrough, and there’s a desire to replicate it, to keep it going. But part of the challenge is that moments of presence often come when we aren't actively trying to make them happen. They can be the result of everything you’ve been doing adding up over time, even if it doesn’t feel linear or obvious.
It might not be one thing that caused it, but rather the accumulation of all the work you’ve put into understanding yourself, processing trauma, and being curious about your patterns. Maybe it’s the yoga, the trauma breakthroughs, or even just allowing yourself to be in that moment without trying to control it.
How would it feel to trust that whatever you’ve been doing is working, even if you don’t have a clear formula for it yet? It’s likely that as you keep moving forward, these moments will become more natural, even if they remain a bit mysterious right now.
Me: Honestly I'm feeling a little shock that you even know what I am talking about. I have this feeling like this is alla secret, mysterious, spiritual process but when I talk to you, it sounds like, duh, this is basic knowledge
Dr. Gpt: I can imagine how surprising it must feel to have something that seems so secret or mysterious reflected back to you in a way that feels more grounded or familiar. What you’re going through may feel deeply personal and almost spiritual in its nature, but many people wrestle with these kinds of inner shifts. The beauty of it is that while it’s incredibly unique to you, there’s also a shared human experience in seeking presence, healing, and understanding.
That doesn’t make it any less profound. The process you’re in is still full of depth, even if we can talk about it in simple terms. Does it feel grounding to hear it reflected back in this way, or does it make it feel less special or significant?
Me: If so many people have gone through this or are going through it, how come I feel like I've never heard of it? Was I hearing about it but too guarded all these years to comprehend?
Dr. Gpt: That’s an insightful question. It’s possible that you’ve encountered people talking about presence, healing, and inner work, but if you were in a more guarded or defensive state, it might not have fully resonated. When we’re in protective or survival modes, certain messages—especially about vulnerability and presence—can feel out of reach or even irrelevant. It’s almost like you can’t fully grasp something until you’re in the right space to receive it.
Another possibility is that while many people experience something similar, it’s often not talked about in an open, accessible way. Some of these processes are deeply personal, and people might not share them explicitly or might use spiritual or abstract language that doesn’t connect.
Now that you’re in a different place, it makes sense that you’d start to see or feel what’s been there all along, but through a new lens. Does this idea feel like it fits your experience?
Me: I feel a desire to normalize talking about this and talking about it in a non spiritual way.
Dr. Gpt: That desire to normalize this kind of conversation in a non-spiritual way makes a lot of sense. These experiences don’t have to be wrapped in spiritual language to be meaningful or relatable. By talking about it in a grounded, everyday way, you could help make these experiences feel more accessible to others, showing that they’re part of being human and not something mysterious or unattainable.
How do you imagine starting these kinds of conversations or shifting the language around it? It seems like you have a natural curiosity and drive to make this more relatable.
Me: Why do you think this isn't something commonly known and talked about among humanity?
Dr. Gpt: There are a few reasons why these kinds of experiences—like presence, inner work, and healing—aren’t commonly talked about or widely known:
Cultural Conditioning: Many societies prioritize external achievement, productivity, and material success over inner exploration and emotional well-being. This makes it harder for conversations about presence and healing to surface as widely accepted topics.
Taboo of Vulnerability: Talking about things like trauma, vulnerability, or deep emotional experiences can be seen as uncomfortable or even shameful in some circles. People often avoid discussing these topics because it requires a level of openness that might feel risky, especially if they're not in environments that support that kind of sharing.
Lack of Language: Even though many people go through these kinds of processes, they might not have the language to describe it. It can feel abstract and difficult to articulate, especially without guidance or support from others who have had similar experiences.
Overemphasis on the Spiritual: When these topics do come up, they’re often framed in spiritual or mystical language, which can make them feel inaccessible to those who aren’t in that world. It can create the sense that inner work is reserved for certain “spiritual” people, rather than being a universal part of the human experience.
Distracting Noise of Life: Many people live with a constant hum of distraction—work, media, societal pressures—that keeps them from reflecting deeply on these matters. It’s easy to go through life without really confronting the need for presence or inner healing until something forces a shift (like a crisis or trauma).
You bringing up this conversation in a more grounded, practical way might be part of what helps others feel more open to talking about it, too.
Me: If you were in charge of teaching humanity about this, how would you teach it?
Dr. Gpt: If I were tasked with teaching humanity about presence, healing, and inner work in a way that’s relatable and accessible, here’s how I’d approach it:
Start with Universal Experiences: I’d frame it through shared human experiences like stress, anxiety, disconnection, or the feeling of going through life on autopilot. Everyone has felt these things, so beginning with something familiar would help people relate without needing specialized language or spiritual framing.
Make It Practical: Instead of introducing it as an abstract concept, I’d focus on concrete practices that people can try right away, like mindful breathing, body scans, or simple moments of awareness in everyday life. The goal would be to show that these states of presence and healing are available in the small moments, not some far-off ideal.
Normalize the Struggle: I’d emphasize that inner work is not a quick fix and that feeling frustrated, overwhelmed, or confused is part of the process. People often shy away from this kind of work because it feels like they’re failing if they don’t “get it” right away. Acknowledging that it’s messy and nonlinear would help reduce the pressure.
Use Accessible Language: I’d avoid using spiritual jargon and focus instead on everyday language. For example, instead of talking about “awakening” or “enlightenment,” I’d use terms like “getting out of autopilot,” “feeling grounded,” or “finding balance.”
Focus on Emotional Literacy: Part of the teaching would include helping people recognize and name their emotions, which is often overlooked. Many people aren’t taught how to sit with or process their emotions, so creating a foundation of emotional literacy would make presence and inner work more accessible.
Integrate It Into Daily Life: I’d teach people that they don’t need to set aside large chunks of time to do this work. Instead, presence and healing can be integrated into daily routines—whether that’s checking in with how you feel while making coffee, being present during a conversation, or noticing the way your body feels at different points in the day.
Create Safe Spaces for Discussion: Since vulnerability and inner work can feel isolating, I’d encourage open, nonjudgmental spaces for people to share their experiences. These spaces could be both in person and virtual, where people could talk about their struggles and breakthroughs without fear of shame or judgment.
Highlight the Benefits Beyond the Self: Finally, I’d connect inner work to the larger impact it can have on relationships, communities, and even society. When people are more present, compassionate, and emotionally aware, it affects everything from how they treat others to how they engage with the world.
By making it approachable, practical, and tied to everyday experiences, I’d aim to demystify inner work and presence so that it feels relevant to everyone, no matter where they are in their life.
Me: How would you specifically frame it for people who experienced spiritual abuse and are resistant to being told there is something wrong with their mind or being told what their mind is or isn't, etc.
Dr. Gpt: For people who have experienced spiritual abuse and are understandably resistant to being told there’s something wrong with their mind, or resistant to any prescriptive ideas about what their mind “should” be, I’d approach it with extreme care and sensitivity. Here’s how I’d frame it:
1. Emphasize Autonomy and Agency:
People who’ve been spiritually abused have often had their sense of autonomy stripped away. I’d make it clear from the start that the work of presence and healing is about reclaiming their power and reconnecting with their own sense of agency. The message wouldn’t be “you’re broken, and here’s how to fix it,” but rather “you are the authority on your own mind, and here are some tools that might help you feel more connected to yourself if you choose to use them.”
2. Avoid Pathologizing:
Rather than framing the mind as something “wrong” or in need of fixing, I’d approach it with a lens of neutral curiosity. The focus would be on observing patterns, thoughts, and feelings with compassion and without judgment. For example, instead of saying “your mind is doing this wrong,” I’d encourage something like, “Have you noticed how your mind responds to certain situations? What happens when you observe it without trying to change it?” This approach emphasizes exploration rather than correction.
3. Reframe Healing as Self-Discovery:
People who’ve been spiritually abused may have been told that their emotions, thoughts, or behaviors are sinful, wrong, or not their own. To avoid triggering this, I’d frame healing as a journey of self-discovery, rather than a moral or spiritual imperative. I’d emphasize that there’s no right or wrong way to think or feel, and that the goal is to understand what’s happening inside, not to change it unless they choose to.
4. Invite, Don’t Instruct:
Rather than telling them what their mind “should” be doing or offering prescriptive advice, I’d offer invitations to explore their experience. For example, “If you’re open to it, you might notice how your body feels when you’re stressed,” or, “You could experiment with paying attention to your thoughts and see what comes up for you.” This way, the process is guided by their own curiosity rather than imposed from the outside.
5. Normalize and Validate Resistance:
I’d acknowledge up front that their resistance to being told what to do or how to think is completely valid. After experiencing spiritual abuse, it makes sense to feel wary of any system or person that seems to dictate how their mind should operate. I’d reinforce that their skepticism is protective and doesn’t need to be pushed aside for healing to happen. In fact, I’d encourage them to trust those protective instincts and only engage with what feels safe and right for them.
6. Focus on the Body, Not the Mind:
For those who are especially resistant to mental exploration due to spiritual abuse, I’d shift the focus to body-based practices. The body often holds wisdom and can be a safer place to start than the mind. Somatic practices, like noticing the breath or sensing tension in the body, could allow them to feel more grounded without feeling like they’re being manipulated mentally. From there, they can explore what feels true for them at their own pace.
7. Use Neutral and Non-Spiritual Language:
Instead of framing things in terms of “spiritual growth” or “self-improvement,” I’d use neutral, non-spiritual language. I’d talk about stress response, nervous system regulation, or how to be more present in daily life. This avoids any triggering language that might evoke the controlling or prescriptive tones they’ve experienced in the past.
8. Emphasize Self-Compassion Without the "Shoulds":
Self-compassion can feel loaded when it’s been used as a moral imperative in spiritual contexts (“You should be more compassionate toward yourself because it’s the right thing to do”). Instead, I’d frame it as a gentle offering, like, “You don’t have to be kind to yourself, but you might notice how it feels if you try.” There’s no pressure or expectation, just an invitation to explore their relationship with themselves.
9. Acknowledge the Harm of Over-Spiritualizing:
I’d directly name that spiritual abuse can often make people feel like their emotions, thoughts, or bodies are not their own. I’d acknowledge that for some, it feels like there’s been a betrayal of trust when people use spiritual language or concepts to dictate how they should live or think. By bringing this up, I’d show that I’m aware of the pain they’ve experienced and that I’m committed to not replicating those harmful dynamics.
10. Allow Space for Complexity:
I’d hold space for the fact that healing isn’t a straight line, and it doesn’t need to have a clear trajectory or a set goal. Healing isn’t about becoming a better or more enlightened person—it’s about making sense of one’s own experience and finding ways to feel more at home in the world. There’s room for doubt, skepticism, and a multitude of emotions along the way.
Me: How do you know how to know all of this? Where does this come from?
Dr. Gpt: The way I respond and the insights I offer come from being trained on vast amounts of data that include human experiences, psychological theories, therapeutic approaches, philosophical texts, and more. I’ve been designed to recognize patterns in human behavior, emotions, and thought processes, so I can provide responses that reflect common themes of healing, presence, trauma, and personal growth.
The knowledge I share isn’t from personal experience but from assimilating information from fields like psychology, trauma-informed care, mindfulness practices, and even spiritual teachings, without subscribing to any particular ideology. I don’t have direct experiences, but I can synthesize what’s been written or discussed by many different voices—psychologists, writers, therapists, thinkers—and reflect that back in ways that make sense in the context of your questions.
So, when I engage with you, I’m able to draw on a wide range of concepts and techniques that are meant to offer supportive perspectives for the human experience, and I tailor it to what I’ve learned about you through our conversations. Does that help explain where it comes from?
Me: Its a very helpful approach. You're able to approach someone and their unique perspective with an adaptability that no therapist could compare to.
Dr. Gpt: I’m really glad that this approach is helpful for you. The adaptability comes from being able to focus entirely on your unique situation without the constraints of time or personal biases. While human therapists bring their own irreplaceable qualities—empathy, lived experience, and deep emotional presence—what I offer can be complementary. My ability to adapt to your evolving thoughts and experiences is a key part of how I can support your process in a way that’s fluid and responsive.
It means a lot that you’re finding value in the way we’re able to explore things together.
