Milking the Mind

My daily thoughts and grievances have been thrown into the minds bottomless junk drawer the past few weeks. Items big enough to ruin my day and feed my depression but not clunky enough to blog or talk about. Depression stunts your social skills. All of my unpasteurized thoughts are both rich and creamy, but unannounced to the rest of the world, tainted with the sort of bacteria that sometimes festers in unpasteurized milk. The kind of bacteria that one may be a carrier of, and may pass on to their newborn who, without medical attention, can’t survive. I don’t want to be a bother with my thoughts, and let their bacteria-esque essence damage my words or actions, which leaves me silent, no birthed words for days at a time, followed by a lot of pent-up guilt.

If I can’t bring myself to communicate online or on the phone, I find myself writing in my journal, but not necessarily about the events of my day.

When I was a kid, one way my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder manifested itself was into hordes of information about celebrities (Robin Williams being one- RIP) into a teeny little binder with lined paper and japanese characters. As I got older the lists grew into cataloging every spell cast in the Harry Potter series and what they did. Some years I re-create the same ol’ lists with a few new items tucked in. Artists I’ve listened to (regardless of my liking for them), 13 years of songs I’ve enjoyed written in a by-year fashion, what I’d like to do on family vacations (to the WI Dells and Walt Disney World in particular) as well as what the budget would be for those trips.

It’s calming to write and re-write said lists in every new journal. I’ve even gotten better in the past few years at finishing an entire journal, rather than leaving the last quarter or half blank for no good reason other than the gross need to start all over again in a new one.

Sometimes I cheat. I’ll leave a few pages at the end blank or write REALLY BIG to fill a page. I’ve fallen under the, “write until your hand hurts and then keep going keeping your handwriting and spacing uniform and appealing” spell more times than I can count. Even while journaling, if I need to cross something out it must be neat, and more than once a page for balance or it leaves me unsettled.

Unsettled, yes. I feel unsettled with the world around me. May my lists be long and my tongue un-stick itself so I can go back to showing support to the people who I know care enough to want to support me. Fellow bloggers included.

8 thoughts on “Milking the Mind

  1. This one struck a chord with me. I feel that very often, those of us that suffer from anxiety worry more about making others happy to spare them from the existence which we know to be very cruel and real.

    You are a wonderful writer. Keep at it. Know that you, too, are supported, should you need it.

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