Can’t get you out of my head
I hate my brain.
It wasn’t always this way. We used to get on just fine. But some time ago we came across two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and he decided we had to take the long way. Bastard.
Since then we have been fierce enemies. I know they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But inside my own head seems a bit much.
Welcome to the party, pal
The problems began in 2011.
There I was living my life, when suddenly I couldn’t function properly. I started shaking while sitting at my desk in work. I went for a walk to see if fresh air would help, but started to feel disorientated. I was getting more breathless by the second and was convinced I would faint. It felt like my heart was a xenomorph ready to explode out of my chest.
Someone called for help. I went to A&E. They checked me out and said I was fine. 3 days later, it happened again.
I figured out pretty quickly that I was having panic attacks. But that didn’t stop me thinking something was physically wrong with me. ‘What if it’s something they haven’t checked for?’ I read later that this is pretty common amongst people suffering with anxiety disorders. One night I convinced myself I was going blind, despite having 20/20 vision.
I kept thinking ‘Holy shit am I going to drop dead of a mysterious illness, at 25?’ Even Jim Morrison made it to 27. This seemed wildly unfair.
Help me if you can, I’m feeling down
After those first two incidents I started having attacks daily.
I tried to work but it was unbearable. The fight or flight reflex would kick in and I’d chose business class every time. I had no intention of trying to put up with it. As I saw it, shadow boxing is only a useful exercise up to the point your shadow starts punching back.
Aside from how mentally draining these incidents were, they were also physically exhausting. This despite people reassuring me the pain I felt was all in my head (Isn’t all pain in our heads?). It also added copious amounts of hassle to my life – for instance I’d try to get on the tube, feel overwhelmed or like I was going to die, and then just walk the hour and a half home.
Eventually I did get help. I had sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) and slowly the attacks became more infrequent, and then they stopped altogether.
No brainer
2020 was crappy.
Yes, I know there was a devastating global pandemic to deal with. But come on guys, can we focus on me for a minute?
After years of feeling in relative control, I crumbled. Maybe the ingredients for disaster were all there – juggling work and childcare, no exercise, no pubs, coffee all day and a bottle of wine every night. On the other hand, most people seemed to cope fine (better in some cases), and it wasn’t without its advantages – no commute to deal with and I was spending more quality time with my son. Not to mention the wine was damn tasty.
The crash finally came in December. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, couldn’t work, barely slept, and wasn’t eating. Mornings were hell. They say when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back. I can confirm that is horseshit. When you stare into the abyss, nothing stares back. And it’s terrifying.
I was overthinking everything. Found it impossible to enjoy things in the moment. Life just felt like an unending list of tasks. I kept thinking What’s the point of any of this? I was starting to feel disconnected from the world, and still my brain just wouldn’t fucking stop.
I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘Leave your brain at the door’. The notion that you can switch your brain off in order to watch some trash TV or movie. The idea naturally being you pick it up at the end - whereas I’d prefer to abandon mine permanently.
I took some time off work and did more CBT, but it wasn’t landing this time. In May 2021, I had another crash. Once every decade seemed ok - twice in 6 months, less so.
Am I right, or am I right?
I don’t think I’m wrong to feel this way. If anything, our lives demand it.
As Brad Pitt rightly put it in fight club: “We have no great wars, no great depression. Our great war is a spiritual war, our great depression is our lives.”
If you’ve made it this far and are wondering what happened for me to get this way, I can tell you: nothing. There is no emotional backstory. My parents didn’t abuse me and I wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider. I’m a healthy middle class man in his thirties, with a really supportive partner and wonderful son. My biggest addiction is sparkling water. My life is normal and boring. So much so I started a blog.
It’ll be a very short autobiography, really more of a tweet:
Born in Dublin. Lives in London. Regularly wakes up so filled with dread for the day ahead he has to puke. #ATripDownTheNiall #AllBrainsMatter
Be kind to be kind
People are good, mostly.
During this time nobody I’ve spoken to has told me to ‘man up’ or whatever. My friends aren’t dicks. That phrase never made sense to me anyway. Surely it’s manlier to confront your problems than to pretend they don’t exist.
When I have opened up, the thing people have said most often to me is ‘be kind to yourself’. This always warms my heart and it reminds me, despite the world feeling wrong most of the time, there are many more of us - even if the shitbags keep winning.
But I still think we can all do better. Ultimately, you just can’t know what’s going on in someone’s messed up brain. Being kind is the least we can do.
Next time a friend tells you they are hungover, go buy them a juice. Don’t tell them they have brought it on themselves. They already know that and it isn’t relevant to the pain they are feeling. Just be a mate.
As for me, I’m going to start a new course of counselling. Maybe it’ll change me and I’ll come out all Eat, Pray, Love (but I’d settle for Stop, Sleep, Think). I still believe life is ultimately pointless. But I can accept that. It’s like Rocky said: “It ain’t about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward.”
Hopefully it lands this time so me and my brain can finally kiss and make up. Then it will have made all the difference.