the brain is a fascinating thing when wired wrong
An alternate title for this post is 'I Wish I Could Make My Anxiety Goblin Real So I Can Beat It to Death With a Big Hammer'. Also, mild disclaimer - the current title isn't really serious. I know it's an insult to brand neurodivergence as anything 'wrong' when it's just different, it's just me making a dumb little self deprecating joke at myself.
Anyway, this morning I read A's post 'my brain doesn't let me chill' and my first thought was 'god yeah big mood' so I liked the post. Then as my own day went on, my own brain started to pull some of its own usual bullshit.
I thought way too much about the weekly round up post I made, starting with how to format it and what to even put in it. Then, eventually, I started thinking of how if I did that every week I'd need to take more notes / forget things less. Stressed myself out preemptively over the mere concept of doing a single weekly post. A ridiculous thing, truly.
Because I am way too aware of my mental health and how my specific hellbrain works, I know deep down it's probably tied to the current online culture of how everything has to be, like, easily consumable? Quick bite sized chunks of things for the masses, and not more longform stuff which - while I acknowledge still has a large audience, which I am also a part of - isn't what's commonly seen online these days.
Also probably the fear of being misinterpreted or something, because people online love to do the 'so you hate waffles?' thing over literally anything. Am I making any sense? I don't know. I'm not good with words, that's my bestie's domain.
I'm working on - and probably also overthinking - a post about my own history with blogging, and how it's changed into a whole other beast since I first got online. Maybe that'll sound better than whatever I was trying to say above.
Anyway, after stressing about the weekly post concept, my brain decided to go through the classics for a while and freaked out because we're 'running out of time'. What does that mean, you ask? Fuck if I know! When the anxiety takes over, I am standing behind a glass wall watching it press all the buttons until it gets tired. It rarely makes sense or follows any sort of logic, and I just have to let it happen.
Like? I'm 35. I'm still young. I'm unemployed - legally unable to work due to being chronically ill / disabled. I arguably have more time than many of my friends with actual jobs! Yet somehow, for some reason, my brain likes to get in a tizzy by sometimes becoming obsessed with the idea that I don't have as much time as I think, actually.
It's exhausting, but it still lowkey fascinates me that this ball of meat - if it is even meat - inside my skull can just do this whenever it feels like it. Let me chill and do things without worrying about time passing or how I'm spending it!
The time will pass anyway!