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Quicksand & Netflix: Why Movement Advice Might Be Harmful (and what to do instead)

While I don’t experience deep depression much anymore, I used to. Oh wow did I used to.

You know those deep dark cavernous holes where there is no light, covered in dense clouds and heavy fog – it seems hopeless and crushing? Yeah… those. I had a LOT of those days in the past.

And then there’s those moments that sometimes last minutes, sometimes they last days, occasionally they last weeks or months, where you have enough of something to at least look for help, a resource, some encouragement, some.thing.that.might.give.you.a.boost! And you scroll to a TikTok or Instagram Reel and the advice given is to “just get up and move.” As this Reel puts it, “Follow the plan, not your mood.”

Okay… as much as I don’t want to… I’m gonna share this Reel so you have the full context of what comes next.

Advice like this used to hit me like a ton of bricks.

Not in a helpful way that gave me some “tough love” and got me motivated… in a more literal way.

This crap advice would crush me and push me down even further into my hole of darkness because I 👏🏽 COULD 👏🏽 NOT 👏🏽 MOVE 👏🏽 even if I wanted to. And all this advice did was add shame to my already debilitating experience.

The Reel from Dr. Chris Lee is well-meaning. It’s passionate, polished, wrapped in the shiny veneer of neuroscience. And while there’s truth there, it’s missing two important things:

  1. the sacred wisdom of your nervous system
  2. consideration of neurodiverse experiences

 

I don’t blame them for missing the nuance. Nuance is really challenging to include in social media posts. Perhaps that’s why I find social media so frustrating – there’s little room for nuance.

If you enjoy the nuance… let’s dive in. Perhaps you’ll come to discover why these kinds of messages really didn’t hit you right either!

The Hidden Cost of “Just Move”

Here’s what those reels don’t tell you, what they can’t capture in their bite-sized wisdom: When you’re in a dorsal vagal state – that deep, protective shutdown response where your system has essentially pulled the emergency brake – aggressive movement isn’t just unhelpful. It can be fucking harmful.

For my neurodivergent kindred spirits, particularly those dancing with Autism or ADHD, this “just move” doctrine can be especially problematic. Our nervous systems operate like finely-tuned instruments in a world designed for sledgehammers. What looks like simple movement to others can feel like scaling Everest in flip-flops for us. So, because we have heightened sensitivity and unique processing patterns, we have to be especially cautious about the standard neurotypical “just move” approach.

 

The Crucial Distinction

Here’s what makes this conversation infinitely more complex than any social media snippet can capture: There’s a world of difference between a “mood” and a nervous system state.

When you’re in a mental funk? Hell yes, movement can be medicine. Science backs this up beautifully. But when you’re in nervous system protection? That’s an entirely different universe of need.

The challenge? Most of us were never taught how to tell the difference. We weren’t given the sacred tools of discernment to distinguish between “I’m feeling low” and “my system has hit the emergency brake.” Without this crucial knowledge – without being in deep, honest relationship with our own internal landscape – following one-size-fits-all advice can lead us further from home rather than closer to healing.

This is why meditation and journaling are often precisely what’s needed first – it’s these types of introspective tools that will help you discern whether movement is the right choice for you. (And, not to be too picky… but meditation and journaling both can be considered movement, depending on your state of being.)

So… if you’re a little cranky – sure, go for a walk. That’s likely not gonna hurt.

If you’re feeling a little “meh” about doing the dishes – yeah, blast some ABBA and dance your way through them.

Here you go:

If you’re having one of those “I hate everything in my closet” moments – absolutely, shake it off with some Taylor Swift-inspired cardio.

Here you go: 

If you’re stuck in a “my hair looks like a stressed-out porcupine” funk – by all means, yoga that mood away.

If you’re in a “I can’t believe they put pineapple on my pizza AGAIN” spiral – definitely, channel that energy into a quick jog. (But don’t use that energy to come after me if you happen to like pineapple on your pizza.  No hate intended… it’s just an example! 🍕🍍)

BUT…

(and this is a big, important but)

…if your system is in full-on shutdown mode, if your body feels like it’s wearing a lead suit, if even the thought of movement makes you want to burrow deeper under the covers… that’s when we need to pause and get curious about what’s really going on.

 

A man in a blue shirt holds a baby and seems to be singing or talking. Subtitles read: "I like big butts and I can not lie.

The Sacred Science of Shutdown

When we’re in dorsal, we’re experiencing what science calls hypo-arousal – but I call it collapse and shutdown. You know how it is – you’ve been there: This is the human version of playing dead, except with Netflix. It’s the ‘nope, I live here now’ state; the blanket burrito of doom experience; it’s when your inner battery goes into power-saving mode and closes all non-essential apps.

Right?

You’ve been there.

And… This is not laziness. This is protection.

It’s your nervous system performing its holy work: preserving your energy when the world feels too much.

For those of us with ADHD and Autism (or other neurodiverse types of wiring), these dorsal states carry layers of complexity that Instagram reels could never capture. Autistic souls often experience shutdown as a response to sensory overwhelm – our systems are already processing an IMAX movie in surround sound, and now the world demands we add a fireworks show. Ugh!

 

The Dance of Return

Picture this: If dorsal is like being frozen at the bottom of a deep pool, aggressive movement is like trying to rocket straight to the surface. Nobody tells you that you’ll likely run out of oxygen halfway up and sink even deeper into the depths.

Picture this: If dorsal is like being caught in quicksand, aggressive movement is like trying to sprint your way out. Not wise.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but one of the most fundamental lessons that came out of childhood for me (and one of the most unnecessary lessons, in contrast to how important it seemed back then) was the knowledge that, when you’re in quicksand, the harder you struggle, the faster you’ll sink beneath the surface. Tell me I’m wrong. This was required knowledge when I was a kid.

And yet, here we are, many of us in Dorsal quicksand, and Dr. Chris’ advice is to, “just move.”

Person with glasses sits on a couch gesturing with one hand. Subtitles read: "By all means move at a glacial pace, you know how that thrills me.

Instead, we need what I reverently call “glacial pace” movement – those sacred, mindful shifts that honor where our system dwells right now. This might look like:

  • Lying still and wiggling one finger
  • Stretching a single muscle with profound attention
  • Breathing. Just breathing. (Yes, that counts as movement, dear one)

For neurodivergent folks, this regulation process might need to include careful attention to our sensory environment, processing time between movements, and awareness of how we’re sensing our internal state. It’s not just about the movement itself – it’s about creating the conditions where movement can be truly supportive rather than overwhelming.

 

The Art of Sacred Regulation

Before any movement, we need regulation – that attentive presence with our current state. (No, healthy nervous system regulation is not, as most people in the polyvagal world describe it: getting back to an inner calm and steady mood.)

To help you regulate, here are some steps you can take:

  1. Noticing where your system is without judgment
  2. Naming your experience with tender honesty
  3. Normalizing this response as natural protection
  4. Giving yourself permission to be exactly where you are

Only then can we ask the crucial question: “What’s needed here, beloved?”

Because, you see, once you attend the the current nervous system state sufficiently – your nervous system will naturally shift. Anyone who tries to “reset” your vagus nerve, or gives you techniques to shift your state is actually deepening a harmful cycle. And sure, we all just need some relief sometimes when we’re in a “mood.” But be careful of the cycles you’re reinforcing in your embodied systems. Notice if you’re finding yourself attached to getting out of your current state – this will inhibit the process of your healing process.

 

Building Back with Grace

When emerging from dorsal, we need to increase energy with the gentleness of dawn breaking. Think of it like warming up a cold engine – rushing disrespects the process and risks damage.

Start with simple breath awareness. When that feels like home, maybe add movements tiny enough to be almost invisible. Watch for signs of overwhelm like a guardian at the gate. Don’t hesitate to bow back into stillness if activation rises too quickly.

The neurodivergent experience adds another layer to this approach. We need to consider not just the movement itself, but the entire context: the sensory environment, the cognitive demands of planning and executing movement, the energy cost of managing our sensory experience, and the impact of transitions on our system.

 

A More Beautiful Way Forward

Instead of “just move,” we need a more sacred approach. Start by checking in with your nervous system state like you’re greeting an old friend. If you’re in dorsal, focus first on regulation – that holy practice of attending to what you’re experiencing, without trying to fix, change, or adjust it.

Add movement only at the pace your system can metabolize, watching carefully for signs of overwhelm. Build capacity slowly over time, remembering that slower is often faster when it comes to sustainable nervous system healing.

Again, and I can’t stress this enough… when you’re neurodivergent, these seemingly simple suggestions can carry hidden complexity. The executive functioning demands of “just going for a walk” might include planning, managing transitions, and navigating sensory challenges. Group exercise settings, or going to the gym might require additional energy for processing social cues and managing sensory input. Even simple movements might require us to manage both physical and neurological capacity simultaneously.

If you discern with full awareness that you’re “just” in a bit of a mood, and movement is a tool that you find supportive and not overstimulating… then go for it.

 

The Truth About Timing

Your nervous system carries profound wisdom in its very fibers. When it moves into dorsal, it’s not being difficult – it’s protecting you with the fierce love of a mother bear. Honor that protection while gently, mindfully building pathways back to safety.

Remember this truth: The goal isn’t to escape dorsal as quickly as possible. The goal is to build a compassionate relationship with your nervous system that allows for sustainable healing over time. Your system will shift naturally when you first attend to where it is with love.

Sometimes the bravest movement we can make is to stay perfectly still and listen to what our system truly needs.

Sometimes the most regulated movement might be gentle rocking or stimming rather than pushing through another workout that leaves you depleted.

Sometimes the most powerful action is giving yourself permission to simply be.

wishing you more love, not less – all-ways💜™,

Steve

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