Brain going too fast, skipping.
Posted: July 19th, 2014, 7:11 pm
A few times the last two weeks in the evening I've thought "I am going crazy". As if my brain is going too fast, and skipping.
My mind races.
Tonight it happened at dusk. I laid down, counted my breaths, then got a washcloth and put a few ice cubes in it. Oftentimes cool, flowing water calms me. I put the washcloth/ice cubes up to my lips, and at first it was dry and room temperature. When the ice started to melt, I put it on different parts of my head. I thought to myself "I am able to feel. I am able to make decisions [about where I put the ice]" while all the thoughts were swirling and eddying around my head.
I felt fine physically: I tried to get some awareness of what, if anything I was feeling. It was if my brain hurt, but not really.
I also resolved to post here about what I was experiencing. I am told that we are only as sick as our secrets, so I am a little more whole just by typing this.
I also made a list of things I can do to take better care of myself, including more of the following: quiet, hugs, food, natural light, reading, amends, quiet at work, forgiving others, time in nature, being-not-doing as the basis of my worth.
Here is a list of things I want less of: constant media/visual stimulation (listening to music while playing video games), highly processed American food (I am increasingly nauseated by the thought of high fructose corn syrup and refined flour, maybe because I am getting older), judging of myself, knowing what is best for others, condescending others choices and suffering.
I also created an excel document to track when it happened (Saturday evenings are the hardest time of week for me), what I was feeling, what I was fearing, and anxiety on a scale of 1 to 10.
I made that spreadsheet not to measure myself against someone else's (real or imagined) standard of Enough. I did create for the ends of being playful, and not catatrophising everything in my head. That is, if I judge my anxiety as an 8, that is fine. I accept that it is an 8, whatever that means. An 8 doesn't mean that I will die, "go crazy", etc. Maybe all of those bad things will happen. But for now I can lay down in the dark.
In fact, just typing this my anxiety is at 6.
It is certainly possible that I am suffering from mental illness.
My guess as far as likeliehood is that modern life is alienating and stressful. Maybe my ancestors going back many thousands of years ago age mostly grains and cereals, were in the daylight, walked on the ground, and died by my age (38). Maybe my body is built for an African savannah rather than noise, light, and air pollution. Maybe I'm not designed to live on high fructose corn syrup, walk in shoes on cement, be overstimulated by video games, have light after dark, be seperated from others by race/class/gender/age. Maybe I was meant to reproduce at 15, be around four generations, then die at 30 from smallpox or a bear attack.
Maybe the constant noise and light aren't good for me. Maybe my brain can't distinguish the violence on tv and video games from actual violence. Maybe the car emissions I breathe every day really are bad for me. Maybe the very act of typing is unnatural, as it is unnatural for me to be staring at a glowing rectangle at 11:09 pm. I certainly have existential fear about climate change.
I am grateful for this forum, for the amazing technology, for the bold efforts of Mr. Gilmartin to create a community.
Maybe I'm wrong on both the causes and solutions of my distress. At least I'm not alone. Thanks for listening.
My mind races.
Tonight it happened at dusk. I laid down, counted my breaths, then got a washcloth and put a few ice cubes in it. Oftentimes cool, flowing water calms me. I put the washcloth/ice cubes up to my lips, and at first it was dry and room temperature. When the ice started to melt, I put it on different parts of my head. I thought to myself "I am able to feel. I am able to make decisions [about where I put the ice]" while all the thoughts were swirling and eddying around my head.
I felt fine physically: I tried to get some awareness of what, if anything I was feeling. It was if my brain hurt, but not really.
I also resolved to post here about what I was experiencing. I am told that we are only as sick as our secrets, so I am a little more whole just by typing this.
I also made a list of things I can do to take better care of myself, including more of the following: quiet, hugs, food, natural light, reading, amends, quiet at work, forgiving others, time in nature, being-not-doing as the basis of my worth.
Here is a list of things I want less of: constant media/visual stimulation (listening to music while playing video games), highly processed American food (I am increasingly nauseated by the thought of high fructose corn syrup and refined flour, maybe because I am getting older), judging of myself, knowing what is best for others, condescending others choices and suffering.
I also created an excel document to track when it happened (Saturday evenings are the hardest time of week for me), what I was feeling, what I was fearing, and anxiety on a scale of 1 to 10.
I made that spreadsheet not to measure myself against someone else's (real or imagined) standard of Enough. I did create for the ends of being playful, and not catatrophising everything in my head. That is, if I judge my anxiety as an 8, that is fine. I accept that it is an 8, whatever that means. An 8 doesn't mean that I will die, "go crazy", etc. Maybe all of those bad things will happen. But for now I can lay down in the dark.
In fact, just typing this my anxiety is at 6.
It is certainly possible that I am suffering from mental illness.
My guess as far as likeliehood is that modern life is alienating and stressful. Maybe my ancestors going back many thousands of years ago age mostly grains and cereals, were in the daylight, walked on the ground, and died by my age (38). Maybe my body is built for an African savannah rather than noise, light, and air pollution. Maybe I'm not designed to live on high fructose corn syrup, walk in shoes on cement, be overstimulated by video games, have light after dark, be seperated from others by race/class/gender/age. Maybe I was meant to reproduce at 15, be around four generations, then die at 30 from smallpox or a bear attack.
Maybe the constant noise and light aren't good for me. Maybe my brain can't distinguish the violence on tv and video games from actual violence. Maybe the car emissions I breathe every day really are bad for me. Maybe the very act of typing is unnatural, as it is unnatural for me to be staring at a glowing rectangle at 11:09 pm. I certainly have existential fear about climate change.
I am grateful for this forum, for the amazing technology, for the bold efforts of Mr. Gilmartin to create a community.
Maybe I'm wrong on both the causes and solutions of my distress. At least I'm not alone. Thanks for listening.