Hello me, it’s been a while.

Do you ever forget to think about you?

There’s so many things out there needing our time and attention, even the good things, the hobbies, friends, family, take time. But the weird thing is that whilst our brain is engaged keeping our lives on track, we’re not on track keeping our brain happy.

Sometimes everything has to stop.

I hit a point last week. I don’t know what caused it, but I couldn’t go on. It was like a line had been drawn. This was unexpected and it threw me – recently my life has been on the up: I managed to find a job, one that I’m enjoying, I was accepted on a PhD, one that I think I’ll enjoy, and I’ve been spending a bit of time with my partner whenever I can. So what happened?

I just sat there thinking “I thought I was ok”

And I worried about myself, and moped, and felt sorry, and mostly just thought “I thought I was doing better, what happened? Will I never be happy?” Which is frankly bollocks.

What had happened was my brain just needed a bit of tlc. Even having fun is hard work for the brain. I hadn’t sat down and just let my thoughts wander, let my background noise of emotions and fears come to the fore. I had ignored the part of me that makes me me.

Good news – the brain is nothing if not changeable.

I realised I just needed some off time, whereas before I would have fallen into a spiral of self-doubt decreasing my confidence, ]ridiculing my hopes, despairing of my abilities, doubting myself further.

Not everything is a sign of going wrong.

Maybe  this mental line drawing could even be seen as a good thing – like the ache in your muscles after a good day’s hard work. It’s my body’s way of saying “Well done, you’ve done a lot, I need to rest now”. But since the brain doesn’t ache I guess in the past I’ve found it harder to tell and have confused by brain needing a rest with my brain slipping away from me again.

So it’s been a while since I thought about my brain, which is strange, because that’s all there is to me.

The future’s bright, the future’s … well, going to happen at any rate

Ok, so it’s been a bit heavy recently over here in my brain space. You may have noticed.

I’ve been lonely, scared, paranoid about my memory or occasionally questionable sanity. I’ve had job rejections, PhD rejections, long shifts delivering pizza leaving little time to get the rest of my job and PhD applications done. And I’ve been shattered. No matter if I give myself 6, 7, 8, 9 hours sleep – truly knackered from eyes open to close.

But I’m actually a little bit optimistic.

And I’m, by now, pretty wary of being hopeful for the future. This seems a bit sad and pitiable to me, but there’s only so many times you can fall in love with a job, spend weeks applying for it waiting, then further months preparing for tasks and interviews and waiting and waiting, all the while hoping that this one will be the way out of this stale-mate, this one will enable me to get on with my life, this one will be a yes. Only for it to be a no.

So hope is not my friend.

Hope makes me care, makes me feel bad. Hope offers cookies then snatches them away and stabs me in the back. The thoughts set in: I’m worthless, I’ll never get out of this, I’ll never get a job, I need to resign myself to being pointless, I’m such a burden on everyone who loves me, how could anyone love me. An all too familiar cycle.

Is agonising over loss a trait I have?

Well, looking back over it, yes. I have a strong memory of lying awake at night, crying with worry, wondering whether my life would ever be the same again – because one of my best friends at school had randomly stopped talking to me. For a day. At the age of 10. This, to put not too fine a point on it, stressed me out.

But it was fine. We’re still good if geographically distant friends now. No panic was necessary.

And my mum never ceases to remind me when times get tough, when it came to choosing which subjects to keep at school and which to ditch, I had the same problem. “It would affect the whole future of my life! Doors would be closed to me forever!” Well, it didn’t. I chose what I enjoyed the most and found the most interesting, with a little bit of stuff-I-knew-I-had-to-do-but-didn’t-especially-want-to thrown in.

It was fine. I loved my GCSEs, A-levels, degree and Masters. No panic was necessary.

It seems, then, that getting stressed and obsessive and hyper-analytical and morbidly pessimistic is just a character trait I have, and have always had, and it’s always got the better of me in times of uncertainty and transition. Certainly I’m normally happy as Larry when things are routine and going swimmingly.

I need to recognise this is part of me.

I also need to recognise that it doesn’t help. Me staying awake getting worked up isn’t in any way going to affect anything, especially not for the better. So I need to realise when I’m feeling like this, and try to stop.

So how do I do that?

I don’t know yet. I’m working it out. Maybe by realising that I won’t be stuck forever, no matter how much it feels like it. Ask myself if in 1 or 2 or 5 years time, will I a) still be stressed about this? And b) even think it was worth being stressed about at the time? If the answer to either is no, then I’ll be fine. Maybe by writing down what my problem is, then writing down what I’m already doing to solve it, then feeling better because I’m already doing what I can or identifying what I can do to help and doing that. I’ll be fine.

So there is a little bit of hope. That no matter how daunting and scary and impossible everything seems now. Now is only a little bit of time. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.

Nice brain and nasty brain

My brain is great. It tells me everything I need to do to be happy, to be healthy, to be successful.

My brain is also a dick. Because it also tells me to do things that make me, in the long run, unhappy, unhealthy, and feel like a failure.

I’m fed up being stabbed in the back by my own thoughts.

I, like many of you I’m sure, am trying to lose weight, get fitter, healthier. I want to be free of health worries, give myself the best chance of a long life, run around with my family, friends, fiancé, kids – be able to take whatever life will throw at me. I’m trying to learn a new language, and have been for a while, which I greatly enjoy doing but spend so little time doing. I want to make videos and bake things and have a great career. Or at least pick my clothes off the floor and wash up the plates. So why can’t I? I know what I need to do. Why don’t I do it?

Accountability.

If I have someone coming over, the flat will look lovely. If I’m cooking for someone, you can bet it’s not going to be my everyday “on toast” range. If I need to hand in some work to my boss, it will be done on time. If I’m going on holiday to Italy (oh I wish), my Italian would come on in leaps and bounds. But anything where there’s only me and my brain to make me stick at it, I fail. “No treadmill today, my ankle’s still a bit stiff, I feel a bit sniffly, I’ve got that application to work on, I read too late last night and didn’t get up early enough” etc etc etc.

Do we only perform well when people are watching? Will I only work if someone else recognises it? Are we so trained that an action is only worthy if praise instantly follows?

Well, no. At least I’d like to think I’m not like that. I hope not, but it does play a big part in stomping down the dick brain. If others’ voices are reinforcing what I want to do, what I feel, what I think, of course I’m going to feel better about what I’m doing and carry on doing it. And that’s ok. It’s not self-glorifying, just natural that we want to fit in with the pack, feel like what we are doing is right, feel encouraged. And without that, when it’s all up to you on your own, the voice that says “not today, why bother?” can be the loudest one.

So resolution number 1: Recognise dick brain and stop listening to it.

Resolution number 2: Recognise awesome-friendly-wants-everything-for-you brain and do what it chuffing well says!

Happiness and health are worth it. And it’s still fine to have the occasional Jaffa cake. Because treats are ok, when they feel like a treat and I’m not just filling a void.

Plan commencing.

My brain writes through me

Do you sometimes find you don’t know something until you say it? And it surprises you. Like when an idea leaps out of your mouth and all you can think is “where did that come from? Dam it me, you’re so smart!” Please say it’s not just me.

I am in awe of me. I am in awe of you. Literally in comtemplating-the-universe-style awe.

Here you sit (presumably), looking, hearing, thinking, feeling, reading, digesting, breathing, maintaining a steady heart beat, adjusting your eyes to take in the brightness of your computer screen, processing the shapes of the letters that make the sounds you were taught to make to form the words with the meanings you were taught they had, stringing them together, hearing their colour, seeing their sound, listening to their emotion, reflecting with your own words spoken inside your own head, making your own ideas in response and playing them together with the ideas I am giving to you in some great mental orchestration. And possibly even dunking a biscuit into tea at the same time!

I mean that’s real talent.

And because sometimes it feels like my brain has more waves than the water on this world it can get confused. Thoughts never fully form or travel to where they have to go, important things get cut off half way, wires get crossed, some thoughts turn up late, or never happen at all, or hit the wrong button to release the wrong chemical at the wrong time. It’s an organisational nightmare.

So I write what my brain needs to think.

I write the thought it’s trying to focus on at that specific time. Maybe if I write it out the thought won’t get away and my brain won’t get distracted (ooh maltesers) before I’m through thinking about the important stuff. Like how it’s stupid to spend my energy and my evening worrying about my PhD application instead of getting on with it and ultimately stopping the worry sooner.

And that is why my brain needs to speak.

So it can sort me out, tell me what I need to do and I can then go and get on with it. It’s only recently I’ve started to take the time to listen. It’s surprising what wisdom and common sense is in there when I stop panicking and calm down and learn how to listen. I still ignore it sometimes in the heat of the moment and the argument and follow whatever thought has managed to route itself through to the speech-centers of my brain, correctly or otherwise. But I sit and think, later. I listen then, when the tempest dies down. I think I’m getting better. I can cut my brain a little slack when it doesn’t provide me with what I need exactly when I need it to make my life perfect (like when you say something daft in front of your boss), but it’s got a lot on its plate, and I’m now realising that vast store of knowledge and wisdom and guidance I’m looking for is actually already here if I’m willing to take the time to listen – to think.

My brain has a job I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Why I cry and why it’s not a problem

Sometimes I cry reading a book, watching TV, making dinner, in the shower, just sat there in my head living my life. No reason.

And sometimes I want to cry; I’m angry, frustrated, worried, lonely, resentful, hurt. And I can’t. My body will give me no release. Blind anger. No reason.

Am I pulling an Amy Pond, crying for someone I lost even though I never met them? Maybe it’s just my emotions are scatty, or I ate some bad cheese, or I should stop watching those movies, or need more or less sleep, or just to get a ruddy grip. Come on now.

I honestly have no idea.

The brain is so complex it makes us feel basic emotions, fear, sadness, anger, in unconscious response to something we don’t consciously know. I’m not threatened. I’m in a lovely, if horrendously untidy room, with a jaffa cake, in a moon chair (myself, not the jaffa cake) next to a warm radiator. Unless my brain is upset over the sheer imbalance of clothing on the floor compared to the wardrobe (which is entirely possible), or some grey-matter corner has gotten itself worked up about some random event from 10 years ago that I don’t realise I remember in the same way you know you know something but don’t know it – like that name on the tip of your tongue – I have no idea what I could be so upset about right now.

Am I upset though? No, just crying.

Is that in itself a problem? Well, as long as I keep hydrated and a pack of tissues handy, again, no.

Maybe the emotions I feel and the emotional responses I display are not always connected. This gives me a certain control over how I think about it. I now know that I’m not upset, I’m just crying, so I don’t have to worry about the reason I’m crying and why I’m apparently so sad when I thought I was doing ok. And if I am upset and I’m not crying it doesn’t make me less upset or less justifiably so.

I wonder if it can go the same way for happiness as well?

Sometimes I watch a very funny video and don’t laugh. Sometimes I laugh at the weirdest things I wouldn’t ordinarily find amusing. So just because I’m not smiling 24/7 and jumping around singing like I’m in a teen musical doesn’t mean I’m not happy. Even if something throws me off has it affected my actual feelings? Or just the physical display of my feelings to myself and others?

Maybe I’m happier than I think, I just need to take the time to realise it.