7 - Mind Enclosure

Toye Oyelese

Hi, I'm Dr. Toye Oyelese, and welcome again to Navigating Blind. You know, if you ever find yourself wondering whether anyone's really figured out what goes on inside our heads—well, let me be the first to say, after forty years in medicine, I’m still working on it. Today I want to share a concept that’s shaped how I understand not just other people, but myself as well. I call it “Mind Enclosure.” Imagine your consciousness as a house—a big, sometimes drafty house—with residents living under one roof. And all those residents? They’re you. Or rather, versions of you, each one arriving at a different phase of your life. You’ve got child-you, that kid who loved climbing mango trees—in my case, anyway. Then there’s adolescent-you, anxious, maybe rebellious. Grown-up-you. And others shaped by hardship or joy or just, you know, the wear and tear of daily survival. A funny thing: once these residents show up, well—they never quite leave. No way to evict them, believe me, I’ve tried!

Toye Oyelese

Sometimes folks hear this and say—wait, isn’t that like multiple personality disorder? I get that question a lot. But I have to clarify: no, not at all. Actually, it’s sort of the opposite. With multiple personality disorder, or as the textbooks now say, dissociative identity disorder, those 'residents' take over without your awareness. You lose time. You act and don’t remember. There’s a kind of blackout. But with Mind Enclosure—normal consciousness—it’s one house, many voices, but only one person ever speaking at a time. All these residents are just, well, offering their opinions. They react differently, depending on the situation. Maybe they bicker a bit, but only one gets to speak for the whole lot.

Toye Oyelese

In my own life, these residents have shown themselves loud and clear. I remember after my father died a long time ago—one voice, the “protector,” got a whole lot louder and more...stubborn, I guess. Then there’s still “child Toye,” he’s not as quiet as I’d like. He pokes his head out when I’m embarrassed or, honestly, feeling a bit lost. And—oh, the strategist, the planner—that one's always scheming for the next move, usually after midnight when I should be sleeping! Sometimes, especially early on, these voices felt like a crowd, each pushing for the steering wheel. In Yoruba culture, there’s a saying: “A house divided cannot stand.” The real trick is not to pretend these voices aren’t there. They are. The goal is to invite them all into the family meeting, so to speak, and get them talking to each other—maybe not always agreeing, but living together without knocking holes in the walls.

Toye Oyelese

So, let’s get a bit more practical. How do you spot these residents? For me, it’s all about feelings—not the big dramatic ones necessarily, but subtle cues that show up in your gut. When fear rises up, there’s a resident behind it, whispering (or sometimes yelling) warnings. Confidence? Different resident. The urge to help? Yet another. Each distinct emotional state, in my experience, is like a different voice at the dinner table, making its argument.

Toye Oyelese

I have to say—a big turning point for me was recognizing these voices when I moved to Kelowna and was negotiating the lease for my first clinic. Let’s call him “conniving Toye”—the one who always wants a sneaky plan. He piped up in those discussions, pushing ideas about how to get the best deal, maybe playing up a bit of the old “street smarts.” Honestly, I tried to push that character aside—felt a bit ashamed, actually. But the more I suppressed him, the more he found ways to sneak into my thoughts, usually at the worst time. It’s like when you tell yourself not to think about pink elephants, and then...that’s all you see. Turns out, fighting or ignoring these residents just gives them more power. A bit like arguing with a stubborn uncle; best thing is to let him speak, listen, and then make up your own mind.

Toye Oyelese

Over the years, I’ve mapped out some “house rules”—not written on the fridge, but always in the back of my mind. First, every resident deserves a seat. Doesn’t matter if it’s the proud achiever or the wounded child or, well, conniving Toye. Denying one just creates trouble. Second, all must be heard. Self-awareness means catching those voices—even the ones you’d rather didn’t exist. Third, feelings are the signal. If you’re flustered, or suddenly motivated to act—ask yourself, who’s doing the talking? And fourth, reinforcement matters. Whichever resident you give attention to, by fighting or encouraging, tends to become dominant, your de facto spokesperson. Even if you’re trying to lock them in a closet, attention is attention.

Toye Oyelese

Now, here’s where it all comes together—and where SW plus A plus T equals D. That’s self-awareness, plus attention, plus thinking, equals direction. I worked this out after years of watching my own internal “parliament,” if you want to call it that, try to elect a leader. Whoever you rehearse, listen to, or articulate most—wins the vote. If you’re always giving airtime to fearful Toye, then he becomes your public face. The interesting thing is: even when I was desperately trying to suppress fear or shame, that act itself grew those voices stronger. I mean, it’s hard to out-argue yourself, right?

Toye Oyelese

I sometimes get challenged on this, people saying, “Doc, that just sounds like you’re excusing bad behavior—oh, it was my manipulative self that did it.” But, and I can’t stress this enough, you are responsible for who speaks for your house. Whether it’s the wise resident or the troublemaker, if they’re the one answering the phone, that’s on you. The process matters because knowing who’s in charge is the only way to change anything meaningfully.

Toye Oyelese

And, before I ramble on too long, let me just toss out a thought—I wonder if this “multi-resident house” idea might even have implications for AI. Sometimes I hear people say machines should learn like us, but if our minds are really more like a committee than a command center, maybe our computers could learn a thing or two from healthy internal debate. Imagine if an AI could weigh options like we do, with various “specialists” taking the mic before a decision. Would it actually make them more…human, somehow? Or would we just be passing on our internal arguments? I really don’t know, but it’s a question that nags at me—maybe one of you out there will put this model to the test someday.

Toye Oyelese

Alright—that’s Mind Enclosure. Know your residents, accept them, let ‘em co-exist. Because peace and harmony in the house isn’t everyone agreeing, it’s everyone being heard. I’ll dig into a more hands-on strategy next time: “Be Your Own Best Friend.” That’s how I survived some really tough years in Toronto—no one else coming to save me, so I had to build a friend from the residents already in my house. Until then: survive first, then thrive. Thanks for joining me on Navigating Blind.