I have a very busy brain.
I am a classic Extroverted Introvert. I love to go out and socialize with others. I love big cities, concerts, weddings, and professional sporting events. Crowds, music, and people energize me…for a little while. And then I crash. As much as I love being out in the busy loud world I CRAVE solitude. I love quiet mornings and empty beaches. I love intimate gatherings with only one other couple, or even just my husband. Some days the best part of my day is the time I spend, alone, in my car commuting to and from work. I need time alone to decompress and shake off any stress from a day. I need time alone to refill my tank of energy. I need time to be in my head. I need time to THINK. I have so much inside my head that I need to think about.
I am extremely sensitive. This sensitivity can sometimes trip me up. I feel everything. I hear everything. I think about EVERYTHING. And then I think about it some more. I see everyone’s perspectives and I agonize over others’ feelings and thoughts. I can overreact in an instant, going from happy to devastated so quickly I give myself whiplash. I can get angry. Really angry. If this anger is related to something that happened to my kids? Run. I definitely get my feelings hurt unnecessarily because of this over sensitivity and I can get down because of issues I really should ignore.
As I have aged I have been feeling less and less brave. I feel more anxious and worried than ever before. The list I worry over in the dark of night gets longer and longer. I worry about my health, my husband’s health, my parents’ health. I worry about our finances and the long list of things we need, things we will need, and whether or not we will ever be able to retire. I worry about the kids. Oh do I worry about them. I worry about their present, their futures, and I even worry over things that happened in their pasts. I worry about our safety both locally and globally. I worry, worry, worry, worry and my busy brain can get so very tired.
I have learned how to manage most of this inner angst myself. I’ve learned to take time to work through issues in my head, calm down when needed, and I treat myself when I’m feeling particularly down. I take the time I need to think. And think some more. I now have the ability to “sleep on” things, waiting to react until I’m feeling a bit more even keeled.
And I write.
Writing helps me organize the chaos inside my head. Writing helps me filter out the excess “noise” and hone in on the important stuff. When I write out my problems, I often write myself right into the solution. When I reflect, in writing, upon something that is confusing or anxiety producing to me, I find some clarity and I find some relief. When I feel helpless, writing gives me purpose. When I’m down, writing lifts me back up. When I see my thoughts in writing, on a screen or on paper, I feel validated. I feel heard. Even if I’m the only one who is listening. My busy brain needs to be heard and validated, especially by me.
The ability to write is a gift. I don’t intend to waste it.