A Little Insight into the Brain of Yours Truly

Today, I have a headache. And I think about how miserable I feel and wish for something stronger than Tylenol. But then all the rational and less selfish thoughts hit me and I think: Other people I know and love have worse and more frequent headaches than I do so I need to quit complaining and then I think about how I'm grateful I'm allergic to most pain medicines so I don't need to worry about addictions and am careful with the one medicine I can take, though it doesn't do much, and then I think, having a headache like this forces me to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate, which makes me think about the church camp in Indiana at which I, and the H.I.S. Puppeteers ministry team, just spent the better part of a week where we pushed the hydrate, hydrate, hydrate mantra because it was so blasted hot and remember how great of an experience that was. And yes, that was all one thought. Go me!

I'll be alright, though. I know this is temporary. I do have to say that when I was in Indiana with the puppeteers, I felt physically more well than I have in a very long time. My allergies hardly bothered me at all, my head didn't hurt, and my asthma was practically non-existent. It sort of made me half-consider moving there just for the health benefits. But then my brain took over and I went though the whole thought process again: What would I do for work and what about hubby? Would he be able to start his business up again there and be successful? And I'd really hate to drag the kids out of a community and a school-system they are familiar with. And what about Sandy-mom? I couldn't leave her here! She'd be all alone and that wouldn't be right. And where would we live? And then again, where would I work? And so what if my allergies are kind of terrible in Tennessee? That's why there's a wonderful thing called allergy medicine, right? Right?

Why does the cycle of my brain continually turn thoughts over and over and over?

I don't know. It's constant, though. Every minute of every single day and sometimes lots of minutes at night when I should be sleeping. Just this running commentary/inner monologue of stuff... Some people call it worry, and that could be the truth. I just don't know. Maybe it's anxiety? I do seem to worry a lot more than other people, but I just haven't been able to master the whole "I don't care" or "Let it go" thing other folks seem to have mastered. Well...not that they don't care, but seem to be far less concerned about EVERYTHING than I am.

I worry about how people perceive me, and then I start with: But who really cares how someone perceives you? I mean,  you're you, right? You're not them. You only need to worry about what you are doing and that you don't intentionally hurt anyone, right? I mean, you're basically a pretty good person so what are you worrying about? Perception is useless, isn't it? Though I guess perception and impressions are nearly one and the same.

And truthfully, it's probably the ADD I've had my whole life. I have learned to live with it and work around it and find things to do that benefit from my active and virtually directionless brain. So all these thoughts - all this stuff that's constantly racing around, pinging off the insides of my skull, screaming for my attention all the time - is just....me. Part of who I am. Whether you love me or hate me is irrelevant. Whether I drive you crazy or not is irrelevant. I cannot help who I am and you cannot fix me. It's taken me a long time to get to this conclusion. And yet...

Yes, I'm sure there is someone out there who CAN fix me with medications. And I'm not opposed to therapy, but have been unlucky in my search for a therapist who meets my needs. And then I also am not pleased with the cost of therapy for mental illness - because the ADD coupled with the anxiety and depression IS a mental illness but it IS NOT something to bash me for or be afraid of - so I just...don't. I don't go to therapy, though I probably should. I don't take medicines for it, though again, it might not hurt.

I was taking an antidepressant for a while, and I'm not really sure why I stopped except that I just never refilled the prescription. I was taking an anti-anxiety medicine for a while, and I know exactly why I stopped that. Oh - THAT'S a story for another post, though. It's a doozy. I had to get beyond it before I could even consider writing about it.

Yeah - you see this? Re-read this post! I'm all over the place today.

FOCUS, JEN! FOCUS! Be Peanut!

TTFN

JMS

The more, more, more mentality

I talked a little bit about my recent experience with a prescription cough medicine.  And while on the surface I’ll say that typically I’m leery of that kind of medicine and, frankly, it tends to make me sick, I’m very glad I had it this time around.  It was helpful and practically stopped my cough in its tracks.

You need to understand that when I say “that kind of medicine” I mean a low-level narcotic medication or prescription narcotics in general.  It was a hydrocodone combo with an allergy medicine.  And, though I was instructed to, in no uncertain terms, take only the teaspoon prescribed to me, what the doctor didn't know – couldn't know – is that I wouldn't have taken it at all had I realized what it was.  It never occurred to me.  I just knew it was medicine to help with my cough.  I knew what it was, but didn't realize what it was…if that makes any sense.

When I took my little teaspoon of the stuff before bed, I knew it would put me out – the doctor told me it would – but didn't realize that it would be like a slow, warm, ooze into dreamland.  Syrupy and sweet and comfortable.  And while I was drifting contentedly toward the general direction of sleep, I remember distinctly thinking to myself, “A teaspoon wasn't enough.  Maybe you need more?  More…  More…  more…  more…”  And as soon as that thought ran through my mind I bolted back out of the drift and thought – lucidly – “NO!  Stick with the instructions the doctor gave you, no matter what!”  And was, quite honestly, a little surprised that the thought had crossed my mind to begin with.

Then, as I lay there recovering from my start, I thought, “What devil or whatever put that thought into my head?  ‘Cause it certainly wasn't me!”  And I wonder now, in daylight, in complete lucidity, if those kind of thoughts are what plague an addict?  “Must eat/drink/take more, more, more…!”  Whatever the situation is; whatever the chosen addiction may be.  Does more, more, more pervade every waking – and sometimes sleeping – thought?  And later I wondered if that's also the kind of thinking that causes people to fail in things like diets, for example (which I know isn't the same thing).  I don’t know, but it's something to think about.

I'm not an addict.  I used to be addicted to cigarettes, but now I'm not – and that road was tough!  But that's honestly as close as I can come to understanding the true addict's mentality.  Which is a fancy way of saying I can't understand.  Unless you count that screwy errant thought which ran through my head the other night as I was heading off to La-La-Land.  And that, frankly, scares the hell out of me; that maybe I could be easily swayed by the lure of those kinds of medications.  I now can no longer think, when I hear of others who became addicted to pain meds or whatever else, that it couldn't and/or wouldn't happen to me.  I don’t think any of us is immune.  What I DO think, though, is that it’s another notch in the plus column for a little something called Will Power, which is not the same thing as Free Will.

TTFN

JMS

I'm a recovering Facebook addict

Hello.  My name is Jennifer and I have been Facebook free for almost two full months (since January 17^th) and, though I would very much like to say I don’t miss it, I must admit that I do.  Miss it.  Often.  Frequently. (“’Orphan’ as in a person with no parents or ‘often’ frequently?” Bonus points anyone?)

I miss so very many people!  I miss being able to keep in touch with family out of state.  I miss being able to use more than 140 characters.  I miss the enjoyment it brought me, seeing other peoples’ pictures, sharing in their joys, their sorrows.  Cheering people on, or up.

I don’t miss the politics, the nastiness, the speed at which rumors spread (so & so is dead!  Oh, my gosh!) only to find out through the smallest amount of sleuthing that said rumor is a hoax.  I don’t miss people “friending” me who I don't know from Adam.  I don’t miss all the inappropriate things, comments, pictures, and hey-look-at-me-selfies.  I don’t miss people (for whatever reason: religion, personal beliefs, sexual orientation, skin color) being persecuted or verbally bashed or simply hated.  What have we become? 

I want to feel like I still have friends, even if I don’t see them every day.  Because I’m interested in what interests them.  What makes them happy.

This whole giving up Facebook thing is much harder than I thought it would be. 

And yet…

Sometimes – for extended stretches – I don’t think about it at all.  So I ask myself, often and frequently, “Would I go back?”  It’s not like a drug addiction, right?  Or an alcohol addiction.  Those unfortunate addictions are not even in the same ballpark…are they?  It’s not like giving up cigarettes, either.  Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.  Still want one almost every day.

So, would I go back?  Maybe.  Someday.  If “they” banned politics and mean people and selfishness and toxicity and narcissism and inequality and hate.  Those are the reasons I left. 

And yeah, like I said, I miss parts of it.  I miss those I love, or like an awful lot, or even am vaguely interested in.  But I don’t miss the rest.  Come see me on Twitter, OK?  It’s not my drug of choice, but it’s a non-narcotic form of Social Media that I can handle.  Mostly.  (Twitter: @jshell73 #offonatangent)

TTFN

JMS