MS, Sensitivity, and the Collective Pulse

There are days when I feel as though my body is not entirely my own, when it seems to carry more than just my own story. It feels as though I am bearing the weight of something larger—something collective. I wonder if, for those of us living with MS, illness is shaped not only by the personal and biological but by the invisible currents of the world around us.
Thirty years ago, when the world felt quieter, my body was different. There was a calm, a slower pace, where the rhythms of life seemed more manageable. But now, in this hyperconnected, anxiety-ridden age, I find myself not only navigating my own fragility but also the frenetic, tumultuous energy of the world around me. The constant news cycles, global unrest, and rising emotional tension—it all feels like it’s playing out inside me.
I’ve begun to wonder if our bodies, in their delicate ways, might reflect the state of the world, especially for those of us who are sensitive—who feel the emotional vibrations of the collective. It’s as though we’re living in a constant state of “fight or flight,” not just from our own struggles but from the collective weight of a world in crisis. And in this state, I find my body responding. Sometimes, it feels as though I am embodying the energy of the world itself—its pain, its uncertainty, its overwhelm.
Can the collective unconscious—the shared emotional state of humanity—affect us physically? Could the chaos, fear, and grief that circulate through the global ether make its way into our bodies, exacerbating conditions like MS? I believe it’s possible. When the world seems broken and fragile, my body mirrors that fragility. When the world is on edge, my nerves are too.
There’s something haunting in the idea that MS, like autoimmune diseases, could be a metaphor for the world we inhabit. Autoimmune diseases occur when the body, instead of protecting itself, turns on itself. Could it be that, in a world so fractured, sensitive individuals are manifesting this self-attack within their own bodies? That the rise of autoimmune conditions might mirror a greater cultural or emotional crisis—a world where defenses are no longer enough and we can no longer distinguish friend from foe?
There’s something eerie in the way our bodies respond to a fractured world. For those of us with MS, it feels as if our immune systems, meant to protect, have become disoriented. It’s as if the attack is not from a pathogen but from something deeper—the world itself. The collective pain, anxiety, and disconnection that course through society—could this be what our bodies are picking up, expressing as illness? Could we, in our sensitivity, be absorbing that dissonance and expressing it physically?
Our bodies, in many ways, are mirrors of the world we live in. When society fractures, when emotional chaos reigns, we begin to feel it in our bones. MS then is not just a personal struggle but part of a larger story—a story of how the world’s emotional and energetic state is mirrored in the breakdown of the immune system, in the disintegration of the self.
This metaphor extends further. Just as MS can feel like a war within the body, the rise of autoimmune diseases reflects a world in which we are at odds with ourselves—attacking our own well-being in an attempt to protect it. The rise of cancer, too, marks unchecked growth—like the growth of fear, emptiness, and anxiety in a world that refuses to heal. Both MS and cancer speak to the tension between self-preservation and self-destruction. In this way, they reflect the larger cultural landscape—one where, in an effort to defend, we end up undermining ourselves.
So, I ask: is it possible that our illnesses, particularly for those of us who are sensitive, are a reflection of the world’s state—an embodiment of collective turmoil, of disintegration and fragmentation that we internalize? Are we, in some way, the canaries in the coal mine of society’s emotional health?
I’m curious to hear from others in this community: do you feel that your condition is shaped, even in part, by the world around you? Are there times when you sense your body reacting not just to your own struggles but to the greater emotional landscape of humanity?
In a world that feels increasingly fragmented, perhaps it is not so strange to think that we are all, in our own ways, absorbing the pain and turmoil of the times. And maybe, just maybe, it is in our bodies that the world’s collective story is being written.