Sometimes my brain pukes out on me. I’m not sure why this happens or even exactly what goes on when it does. It’s this weird thing where I’m not in a distinct episode of depression or mania, I’m not having a panic attack, but I also can’t think straight at all. My brain gets “swirly and sparkly,” which is apparently what I told Andy last night. When I tell him I’m “not doing so great,” he knows exactly what that means. I frequently go sit in the closet when this happens (don’t ask me why…), and I’ll sometimes write rambling weird things on bits of notebook paper. It’s strange to look at it the next day, because even my handwriting changes when I write in this state. It’s very, very weird.
Last night I apparently had no notebook paper, but I did have my phone. I logged on to WordPress and typed the following “blog post.” I was going to delete it today because it was so strange, but then I thought, “Well, this is kind of an interesting look at what’s going on when my brain is AWOL.” I ran it by Andy today and asked, “Is this really how I talk when I’m not doing great?” He read it and said, “Yeah, that’s exactly what you sound like, except all of that should be in caps because a lot of times you’re yelling.”
“I do not yell,” I said, indignant, as if I had a clear memory of last night (I never have a clear memory of these episodes, which is terrifying in and of itself).
“It’s not like you’re angry,” he said. “You’re just…really loud. Sometimes yelling. I don’t know. It’s just how it goes.”
Sounds pretty awful. Glad I don’t remember a lot of it. My mental illness guru readers – any clues on what’s going on here?? I would love some insight. Anyway, here’s last night’s literary genius:
Sometimes I can’t think right. I say the same things over and over again. I keep saying them. I say them over and over again I do not know why I keep saying them. It’s like I have to say it one more time. One more time. One more time. I don’t know why. It makes me feel a little bit better to keep saying them. It’s weird. I think I’m a bit mad. I mean, I know I am, but sometimes I also feel that way. That’s very strange. Then I think and speak in ridiculous run-on sentences when – HELLO – I am an English teacher and avoid run-on sentences almost as much as I avoid sushi, which is an awful lot because I really really hate sushi. I am telling you I really hate it. You have no idea. I hate it a lot. A lot. So I avoid it
And then I sit in the dark typing blog posts on my phone, but I have to go back every two words because my brain types much faster than my fingers even though obviously my brain isn’t typing so what I end up with is a jumbled mess of auto corrects that I have to fix because maybe I can’t stop thinking in run-ons, but I’ll be damned if I’m also going to let this thing be riddled with typos.
Wanna see what happens if I type without rereading? Here: this iswhay happens when I’m typing without feedstock and unfeeling like ohm going at a normal typing speed but obseear to you that my normal texts arntw so humpback and what the duck jab an overeat anyway because THAT MAKES DNO SWNSE.
So. There’s that. A bit disconcerting. Trying to be intelligible forces me to slow down at least. Maybe I should stop typing this in the dark and go take a shower. Who can be stressed in the shower? I mean, it at least puts a damper on things. Okay. I’m gonna do that. Hazel out. (Like Ryan Seacrest – does anyone else remember that?? Man, American Idol was my life. I wish Clay Aiken’s devastating second place finish was still my biggest problem).
Brilliant, no? *eyeroll* Anyway, wherever my brain decided to escape to last night, it’s back now. That’s good. I wish I could find a way to lock it down and keep it from leaving me in a lurch again.