Here are two true facts about me: I have an anxiety disorder with a side of depression (hold the ketchup, please) and I think a lot, often about things that other people don't ever seem to consider. These two true facts are related, but not, probably, in the way that you might first think.
What brings this up? Well. Today's work day (and, to an extent, yesterday's) has been rife with dead spots, not slow exactly, but with longer than normal spaces in between appointments. And since it is literally 95 degrees in here even with the back door propped open, I have not been inclined to do anything ambitious and productive in those spaces. Instead, I've been reading crap on the internet. And from two different sources, I followed two different links to two totally disparate discussions (one from an American Muslim woman living in Saudi Arabia, the other from an evangelical Christian perspective), both of which happened to involve a discussion of, and endorsement for, "modesty" in dress. And then, also separately, I read some people excoriating (and other people defending) Dita Von Teese as a feminist because she has implants and wears corsets. And all this stuff smushed itself together in my brain into another of my exceedingly crackpot theories, which I was going to blog for y'all.
And then I thought, Andrea, you are mental. The reason you are wasting your time reading this stuff, thinking about how it all relates, and distilling a cultural hypothesis from it is *not* intellectual curiosity, and you fucking know it. The reason you are doing it is that it keeps you from thinking about: a.) whether maybe dad has cancer and all the cupcakes in the world aren't gonna fix his weight loss or b.) what the chances really are that you've picked up a parasite from a patient or c.) how your house probably really needs a new roof (along with all the other stuff it needs) and how people with houses that need work shouldn't be buying shoes or getting pedis or acupuncture or d.) how you are in fact going to die alone and unloved and be eaten by your theoretical 12 cats before anyone finds you because you won't have any step-grandchildren to check on you or e.) the 53 other anxiety- or depression-triggering topics that could find space in your brain instead.
I wish I knew what normal people have going on in their brains at any given time. What's happening in there if you aren't continually thinking either about horrible things you'd rather not contemplate *or* stoopid stuff that is just so much mental masturbation? I really wanna know. Is that why people are extroverts, so they can spend all their time talking and no time thinking? Is it possible to think about nothing at all? (I guess meditation says "yes" but I usually have a big ol' FAIL at meditation.) Can you train yourself to just think about very concrete things like lists of what you're going to make for dinner or who's gonna win American Idol or today's Sox-Yankees game? My whole life I always thought having a good imagination was a positive thing, but the older I get, the more I realize that unless someone's paying you for your creative output, it's really more a curse than anything else.
That is all.
xoxo
6 comments:
From someone else with an overactive anxious ridden imagination...amen, sister.
Try this meditation...well, it isnt an official technique- lol, but it does help me to relax.
When taking a bath, close your eyes and begin slow deep breaths. Then, slide your ears under the water. So you can hear your breathing. And heartbeat. Keep your eyes closed, keep breathing, listening to your breath.Try to focus just on your breathing.
I have actually fallen asleep in the tub doing this. LOL
Hugs
(and I dont think other peoples minds are any less active than ours, we just focus on the worst case scenario, and let it snowball)
I second everything crispix said, especially the Hugs. Hang in there.
Thanks, guys. I'm just really sick of myself and my own bullshit. Part of which, I'm sure, is hormonal, but whatever.
The Benevolent L is "forcing" me to go out and enjoy the nice weather with her today, so a.) she's the only one who shall have to deal w/ me and b.) I'm sure she'll cheer me up.
Cheers, thanks a lot. /Patsy Stone
There are choices to be made about what becomes the object of ones imagination. I understand that for some this may not be as voluntary as for others, but, for me, I've found that it, to a significant degree, is.
For example, I've had three days now of solid concentration on every possible excuse to go for a drive in the car. I was actually put out on Friday evening when I had to transport two kids instead of just one, and take the hardtop, but I got over it by thinking about stopping at Kimball's for ice cream, which I was able to do in the convertible on Saturday, so there. I even got up an hour early today so I could drive to my game in Wenham via Ipswich (and take back roads all the way).
Imagination isn't the problem, though the subject(s) of ones imagination can be. I guess the simple question for me is whether or not one thinks ones life sucks, or if ones life is good. Having been through a divorce, for one example, I realize that it's all in the way you think about it.
Yeah, like I said, I love hearing about how normal people's brains work, since I'll never be able to experience it for myself.
But, y'know, today I had a lobster roll, a walk through all of Marblehead neck, chunky monkey ice cream from Puleo's, and a long discussion that focused much more on The Benevolent One's problems than my own and I hardly thought about all the shit that's been making me crazy anxious.
So being kidnapped did me a world of good even though I didn't do any of the stuff I was supposed to get accomplished today.
It's been many years since anyone described me as normal, so I haven't a clue what goes on in normal peoples' brains. My anxiety exercise (works best in bed, but can be okay anywhere) is to visualise a diaphanous curtain that surrounds me, and through which no bad thought can pass. It's not the hokey thought but the visualisation that seems to work. Rejection of anxiety seems easier when you deliberately turn from those thoughts to one overweening thing, be it a pale curtain, a mantra, or anything else.
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