Alternate titles for this post:
Trust Me, I’m Just as Confused as You Are…..or WTF Brain, You’re a Dick
I was gifted with a contradictory personality at birth. Strength and weakness. Violence and peace. Brains and brawn. I am an extroverted introvert.
Most people equate introverts with shyness, but that’s not the case. I’ve got no problem with public speaking, I’ll spaz out on the dance floor and I have a laugh loud enough to turn heads (especially in movie theaters when I’m laughing at bits that apparently no one else finds funny). The only time I really doubt myself is as a parent, and I kind of take it for granted that you can’t grow as one if you don’t.
It’s not that I think that everything that I do is the bees knees (I LOVE THIS RIDICULOUS SAYING), I just have a healthy sense of self.
Along with all of the good things in my stew o’ birth, I also ended up with a heaping helping of crazy pants stirred into the mix. Anxiety, mood swings, panic attacks, depression – every day is like a day at the amusement park in my head, but you never get to pick the ride and sometimes the amusement is less than its name would suggest. Some people add manic, but fuck those people. It’s not my fault they can’t keep up.
Stress obviously makes them ping pong a little faster, a little more erratically, the beer pong players getting progressively drunker and more careless. Apparently, when my anxiety and my mania collide in this yellow + blue = orange popsicles universe the resulting big bang is apathy. Not like hit the snooze a couple of extra times or skip washing the dishes for a night laziness, but full on eyes wide open duh, what…?? My brain just won’t work right, I can’t make decisions, I turn the sound on my phone off and the only people that I have any desire to be around are my kid, my guy, and my animals.
I definitely can’t write. I’ve tried, I still try, but it’s all shite. It’s because I’m empty, I can’t access my normal people feelings so the writing is just crap. Ha, I can’t even write in my journal. The letters won’t come out.
I disappoint people and I hurt their feelings. The people who are close to me get it; they know that if they say Hey Idiot, I Need You Right Now that I’d never not be there for whatever they wanted. But if they just wanted to go grab coffee and giggle, it ain’t gonna happen. It’s hard for me to make commitments because if this shit hits on a day when I’m supposed to go somewhere or have something finished? That’s a big funny on you, everyone else.
There are so many tools I have that help me work through most swings; yoga and meditation, writing reading dancing drawing scratching the cat’s stripey belly annoying the kid snuggling with the dude walking in the woods…but in this apathy mode, taking that first step to get through the fog in my brain and grab on to the tail end of an idea of starting to get up and do something is really hard.
So I have to bow out for a few days. I have to ditch interactive social media, get enough sleep, and consistently turn my thoughts away from anything internal. For a few days it’s all about observation of the world and breathing, until I start stepping back into my skin.
It’s not the worst thing in the world, or the hardest. It is, however, amazing how exhausting doing nothing for a few days can be. I’m hoping that by writing this out I can shake the last tattered remains of this episode off and wake up. It’s kind of fascinating to watch the things that go on inside my head from an outsider’s viewpoint, honestly. Incredibly frustrating and unproductive, but interesting nonetheless.
I didn’t particularly want to write this. I definitely don’t intend for my head poo to become the focus of what I write. But I wrote something (fairly) cohesive and I didn’t lose interest within the first few minutes of sitting down, so I’m gonna chalk it in the plus column.
Yay words 🙂
The cat gets it….