Mush. Knots. Great big monkey puzzle tree mess of mental ideas. Itchy, Scratchy. Non-flowing frustrations, nightmarish dreams. A mental impasse. A loss of colours. A lack of impetus.
I’ve had an exceptionally manic few weeks due to the culmination of many real life stresses, and a 24 hour period where I took more than my limit of physical, mental and emotional stresses.
But I did something I’ve learned because of all the circuses and rodeos I’ve been through before. I immediately reached out for help. I booked an emergency appointment with my counselor, I phoned my father, and I took EVERY offer of help sent my way.
I’ve had warnings from friends who’ve known me a long time that I seemed manic, on edge, about to snap. I am willing to admit all the signs were there.. But I’m now a man with nothing to lose. And that put me into a liminal space I’ve never been in before. I have all my faculties – admittedly running at max speed – I was and am communicating with people. I was expressing my self, my ideas and my emotions.
This is all healthy for me. As is normal for me I have an abundance of energy and urges. While I’m now at the point were I am fully aware my body is fallible, and I am fully aware that the mind is not a true hard drive, I have not stopped being curious, open and loving.
What I have done is spent a decade investing all that in one person, one dream and one hope. Herwithnoname is playing merry hell with the court case, and that just adds onto my work, life, mental, physical and emotional stresses. A good reason for the nightmares to poke through. But it’s not that I’m specifically selecting these memories to piss myself off. It’s more to do with the theory of state dependent memories – and in a stressed state it is more likely that my dream state will select from the negative pools of self.
Like the yin-yang symbol though, nothing is all good or all bad. Like the spice, all must flow. But I woke up in the opposite of flow today. Knots are difficult to me, I get stuck in loops. And pulling on a loop will often make the knot worse. I learnt this fishing as a child, and it’s always felt very similar in a mental way. Go too hard to fast at just pulling random bits of the knots apart, and one pull too many can never be undone. Give it two coats of looking at.. think.. slow down. Perspective is everything, before action can be taken.
What have I forgotten here? I’ve forgotten all the little steps. The 1% every day into little projects and ideas – and not doing the 200% maximal overdrive effort into one project. Though if I ever find a good woman again, I suspect planning that wedding day might break that rule.
I have this week given myself permission to be myself. All these words, all these years of blogs to an unknown stranger who may become a friend, come from a very definite source. I am compelled to explore ideas, and I am compelled to scribble out the ‘mental overflow’ from this process. It could be a word or 5. It could be a quote, it could be an answer to a question I never asked.
Until I started using Trello to organize my ideas, plans, projects and aspirations I’d never really harnessed it. Or trained it. Or focused it. I am highly aware that time is the enemy, but the right time for me to do this is now. I have nothing to lose. Trello was practical real world actions and ideas. But there’s a much larger random wealth of dissociated ideas with no real world anchors
What processes have I put into place? I have a personal journal, a ‘comedy’ journal, a ‘poetry’ journal, a ‘politics project’ journal, a wall of unsorted ideas post it notes (which i can do on Trello, but this is more fun). And that’s why the “Office of Ideas and Imagination” is helping. I can’t take all this too seriously. I think that’s what the manic warnings from friends were about. But I’m beginning to see a different layer. It’s not mania.. it’s just hyper spirals…. like a tree sees our days as a second, our years as a day – when I’m thinking and forming new connections across disparate ideas of mind and space.. it’s so fast the only sane thing I can do is blurt it out. That is in written form, verbal form… and for the first time in my adult life, I’m not just crafting and painting toy soldiers, I have drawn and doodled out of sheer impulse.
I keep drawing trees and fractals… but that doesn’t tell me anything new. What would be new is if i could write one thing with one hand, and another with the other. I’m not a magician. But I can feel a hidden magic. And I can smell a change coming. Like that satisfying smell that rises from the earth after the rain.