Noise

Surely there must be a name for this syndrome with which I have diagnosed myself that leaves me feeling like my head is always full of noise.  Buzzing, whirring, spinning, echoing, ceaseless noise.  It's like I am not the gatekeeper to my thought factory and I do not have the remote control for the  intensity, repetition, frequency, degree of annoying-ness or volume (haha, get it? volume vs. volume? let me know if you need help with that one).

Let me try to put this into words as best I can: say you have five or ten thoughts in your head at the present moment.  And they're all rolling around as you juggle the concepts and processes that are spurred by each.  Whenever you start to think more in-depth about thought A, thought B chimes in and interrupts loudly.  Then thought A has to start over from the beginning.  Meanwhile, thoughts C, D, and subsequent others are all rotating mildly in the background so that you don't forget they're there.  All this comes with corresponding mnemonic devices and acronyms and jingles to help you remember everything. 

So let's say you're singing the alphabet in your head, but you're also thinking about your upcoming doctor's appointment, what to pack for your lunch tomorrow, which restaurant to call for dinner reservations, and where to stop on the way home for milk.  Your thought process might go something like this: ABCDEFG....doctor Tuesday...turkey & cheese, Bonefish Grill, ShopRite.  Maybe then you narrow it down to smaller bits and pieces of those phrases and mentally scroll through them like a carousel.  But then, the second you start to think about what else to pack with that turkey & cheese and whether you're going to make it before or after doing the dinner dishes and whether or not there's honey mustard in the fridge and how much bread you have left, all of a sudden you hear ABCDEFG...!!!! very aggressively, and then you have to start having the turkey & cheese conversation again, and probably somewhat audibly. 

And while you're speaking to the host at Bonefish Grill you get tongue-tied as you attempt to communicate your desire to make a reservation for two at 8 pm because you're still thinking about turkey & cheese at 10 pm and ABCDEFG!!!!! Thoughts can be so rude and wreak so much havoc.  Talk about unnecessary anxiety.  But I'm convinced this isn't an anxiety disorder, nor do I have a slacking mind.  But maybe I should do some brain exercises, if there are such things; not the kinds that flex your intelligence and memory muscles, but the kind that help you actually find that remote control so that you can switch your brain to the OFF position or at least tell it to SHUT UP!!!

Songs are the worst, too.  The second the lights go out there's always some song prancing and cavorting through my mind, and I always remember every single word and chord, so of course there's no peace until the song runs through to completion at least 75 times! If you try to stop in the middle, your nagging, annoying mind comes down with a case of OCD and reminds you that you can't end a song in the middle of a verse! And if I try to focus on my breathing, that annoys me too because there's always that slight nose whistle or throat dryness or sinus rattle.  If I try to really relax and feel my spine and limbs sink into the mattress and just think "Ahhhhh...." the song quiets down for a second before it crescendos again.  If I say to my brain "SHHHHH!!!! Shut up! You need to sleep!" that just makes it worse.  It's like it's mocking me, saying "You're not the boss of me!" All this while watching the clock tick away. 

Oh, what do I do? I can't always rely on sleep aids just because I can't find any internal peace and quiet.  The "noise" isn't even from things I'm stressed about, usually; rather, inane worthless thoughts that leave me wondering "how much room in my brain is consumed by these trivial curiosities and all these song lyrics?" Where can people dispose of their excessive, unwanted thoughts and why do they get louder when you don't need them? Can I make more space in my brain somehow? What kind of specialist would one even seek for a problem like this? It doesn't sound worthy of a psychologist, psychiatrist or even a general practitioner to me.  Zen guru? Meditation expert?

Somebody please tell me how to find my remote control.  My puffy eyes and exhausted brain thank you in advance.

Out of Darkness Something Beautiful Blossoms

Have you ever journeyed into the depths of your pain and cried with your entire being? I mean with every last cell and molecule, hurling your heavy sadness into the air and hearing the echo of your emptiness as you howl and gasp for breath. Have you ever found yourself tangled in the emotional wreckage, utterly twisted and crumpled and broken like the gnarled, fractured metal skeleton of a car crash, a hollow shell of yourself, unable to pick your retching body up off the floor?

This is a monster. Love, life, loss, pain, tragedy, whichever face it's wearing when it comes to get you. But I'm talking about love. Jaw-clenching, soul-baring, gut-wrenching, painful, real love; complete with red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, splitting head, and churning insides. That resounding desolation where no one can hear your violent sobs, that chasm of aloneness that you spiral into - that's where love goes when it breaks. And if you can't let go, it takes you with it, dragging you precipitously over the jagged cliffs of the abysmal pit before you get swallowed whole by the fiery hell and succumb to the burning as the walls cave in around you.

After you feel like you've expelled your innards and cried every last tear and diced up what's left of your heart, as you look up from your spot on the ground waiting for the skies to open and bathe you in fresh rain to wash away your salty teardrops, you realize it's still not over.

When you open your puffy eyes and try to stand on your weakened, shaky legs you fall down again, tumble, collapse into a pathetic heap. You try to think, imagine, plan your next steps; rebuild, regroup, recover. But as your temples throb and your body aches from all the heaving, you curl yourself up into a ball and clutch empty air inside your fists because that's all your shattered psyche can handle.

You don't know how it got this way or if it can be fixed - sewn, stitched, glued, bandaged, repainted, rebuilt, reassembled; you just know it has to be different, right now, one way or another. It is in these times and these dark places that our true strength is tested. Our resolve, our will, and our faith are tried. It's not a question of how long it takes to recover, or in what way we self-medicate or lick our wounds, rather how we choose to carry on and what new reality we cling to.

From the blackest, most charred and barren spirits who despair in their shattered dreams, hope springs. From the longest nightmares and the deepest cuts, something beautiful blossoms. Maybe it's a second chance, a rebirth of an existence that fell off track. Maybe it's a fresh start, a new beginning, a breath of life to revive a dream, a soul, a heart.

The road to recovery is usually long. Whether it's long and winding, slow and steady, or more crisply focused than you've ever seen; use that clarity, use that strength, use that steadfast determination and turn them into golden bits of inspiration to climb that mountain, turn that corner in your soul, become stronger than ever before, and surprise yourself when you're able to look back over your shoulder at everything you've put behind you and say "I did it."

Don't grow cold, don't wall off your heart. Put miles under your feet or your wheels if you must; but don't be afraid to dig your heels into the ground if that's what you're being called to do. Close the door to the past if you must, and start opening some new ones if that's what your heart needs. Or hold someone tighter and with more intensity than you've ever held them before. Tell them you're not letting go.

Believe in second chances - they just might be life-savers. Trust your gut and listen to your heart.  Flee or put roots down.  Fly, flourish, conquer. But don't go rushing to decide right away: let your wounds heal; pick yourself up and dust yourself off, because there's more in store for you.

And I hope it's beautiful.