A nightclub would be much better because then, I
get drunk. But No! That is just my brain at midnight when I need to be up the
next day for work. I see doctors, perhaps not for this particular issue, but it
came up. They may have called Fantasy Prone Personality or was it auditory
hallucinations? I couldn't tell you if I tried, I was too happy having a name
attached to this bane of my existence.
You'd
think I'd be used to it by now right? Seeing that I have lived with it since I
was young but No! Maybe it is the nature of these thoughts and conversations.
Dark; Oh so dark! And every time it does, the first thing I want to do is yell
at myself.
“Why can’t you just think
normal thoughts?
Why are you like this?”
BOOM! You're in the trap.
Your brain is a storm. A soft
storm, sure, but a storm nonetheless.
Yelling at it doesn’t calm it
down—it just makes the rain louder.
What
It Feels Like
Some nights, it’s whispers.
Tiny worries crawling under
your skin like ants.
Other nights, it’s a hurricane.
Ideas, regrets, fears, and
plans you’ll never follow all spinning at a speed that makes your chest ache.
It’s exhausting.
And lonely.
Even if you’re surrounded by
people, you’re still there, inside your head, trying to survive the noise.
Why Gentle Care Matters
Here’s the thing, honey:
punishing yourself never works.
Your brain isn’t bad—it’s
caffeinated, hyperaware, perfectly capable of chaos.
Treat it like a toddler on
espresso. Don’t fight it. Don’t shame it.
Hold it. Hum to it. Let it be
messy while you hand it a soft cup of tea.
Tiny Practices That
Actually Help
I’m not giving you some bougie
self-help checklist.
These are my messy, soft little
hacks that somehow work:
Whisper to yourself: Like
you’re talking to a friend who just can’t stop overthinking. “Hey… it’s okay,
we’ll survive this.”
Write it down: Even if it’s
scribbles, even if it’s ugly. Let the chaos spill.
Move your body: Dance in the
kitchen. Walk barefoot on the floor. Shake out the tension.
Create soft anchors: A candle,
a song, a scent—anything that says, “You’re safe, even when your brain isn’t.”
A Tiny Story
Yesterday, my brain screamed at
me for two hours straight.
I wanted to scream back, but
instead… I made cocoa, grabbed my notebook, and wrote nonsense.
Some of it made sense. Some of
it didn’t.
But the storm quieted. Not
gone. Just… gentled.
And for a minute, I felt like I
was holding myself like someone else might—like someone who actually gives a
damn.
Tonight, when your thoughts are
loud and relentless… try this:
Don’t fight. Don’t judge.
Be a soft storm.
Hold yourself.
Exhale.
And know, babe, it’s okay to be
exactly this.
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