Isn’t the mind a funny thing?
I envy those who seem to not be run ragged by their minds. You know, those cool, calm, seemingly collected, chilled-vibes cadets who just go with what’s going on, accept the sitch and if not, simply change it.
I always thought my mind was just a tad over active. A bit more on edge than most, slightly more prone to over thinking, more of a wasp’s nest full of erratic buzzing insects that let loose in furious swarms of sussurrations rather than a harmonious hive with a cerebrum Queen Bee instructing the rest into orderly lines.
Since opening up about Ed and undergoing some treatment to, well, attempt to make him fuck right off, I’ve come to understand my mind is run so ragged in part by Ed’s side effects. Under eating has insane effects on the brain’s functionalities, highlighting some, hindering others, amping up anxiety and partially eroding empathy.
Just a few to mention as I am saving such material for my book – coming along rather fably, I must say – but undereating especially affects and/or can lead to the following:
– Depression: nutrients in food affect the emotional centres of the brain and in reducing the amount of nutrients hustling to these centres, an imbalance is caused that spurs the emotional state into a rather un preferred one; I.e., glum, morose, melancholy. Or in other words, an up and down moody bitchy tosser who is not overly fun to be around.
– Panic: perhaps my most depended on pal; panic attacks often, well, attack. And panic isn’t purely just in bouts and episodes; oh no. They aren’t just emotional, they also bust up and about if the body’s stress systems are not getting what they need to keep balance and able to cope. Thus? A kg of carrots each day is not exactly dispatching the necessary vitamins and such that the body needs.
– Obsessions and Compulsions: oh, old OCD; one of the most majorly massive effects of undereating is heightened obsessiveness. Inability to be flexible or spontaneous, rigid in routines and on edge about doing all that is detailed in one’s diary. And relax? What on earth is that foreign concept? With every tick off the to-do’s adds another line or two of have-to-attend-to-and-complete-before-this-date-or-else. (Noise of doom and dismal dread). Yup. Obsession. Oh hell, obsession.
Learning such and more kind of felt good. To know what’s going on in my central computer is not actually me as such; rather, it is the side effects of restriction and thus can possibly, probably be overcome with consuming a balanced and adequate diet to enable the mind to chill out, calm the fuck down and function and think rationally and – hell I dislike this word – normally. Well if that doesn’t give the incentive to sit down to a medium-rare steak with some boiled tateys, what would? (Well, it hasn’t yet. But it’s made me see that there is much more to eating than just its effects on the waistline).
The above can make even the most mundane day be overwhelming and exhausting. While the body wants to just lie down and rest, the mind runs a whirlwind of panic, angst, fear, irrational thought and despair, often which upon sinking into slumber invades dreams and overtakes the unconscious state also.
And Rescue Remedy often can’t cut it. Last night for example: three-quarters of the way though this blasted Contiki assignment, I was rather, shall we say, devastated to find my hard drive had decided to pack a sad and not restart, instead flashing a bastard question mark on the screen with a bleeping noise accompanying (beat in tune with the flash it must be said; for its wankerness in not working, at least it has a rhythm).
I guess anyone whose entire day’s work unexpectedly went to the hard drive in the sky (and alas, I am not referring to The Cloud – if only!) would also have a minor breakdown and stomp their feet a little bit. But I think, as I do with everything in my life, going all two-point-oh is a lot to go with my unbalanced emotional state. While a “normal” (Urgh) person may have a slight despair and trucket load of tears, I just had to one-up and break to pieces, bang fists on the floor as well as feet, and duct out trucks as well as a fleet of navy ships, buses, cars, bikes, trains, planes and all else vehicular in crying.
But I’m mindful of it now. I’m aware of my irrationality. It doesn’t make it any easier; hell, I think in fact realising your emotional immaturity makes it more difficult. But to see how I react to situations compared with others in more or less the same position? It’s made me realise. It’s made me come to the clear as Nivea conclusion.
At the age of 24.5, I don’t like myself very much. At all. And I want to change a damn lot. Starting with my mind.
Bring on becoming the mindful, kind hearted and good person I want to be. To do things that matter. (And the idea for book #2).