Sometimes I attempt to explain how my mind works. It usually comes out as incoherent psychobabble, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but being as its rather unreadable,it would seem inappropriate to expose anyone not as privy to my insanity to decipher such porridge.

I laugh sometimes, its the only thing really left to do, when you’re mind doesn’t want to stop. When its thought patterns and neural links are so codified to some degree that I’m unable to see what’s right in front of me because everything that came before as well as ever after, would be conjured up as a means to tell a greater tale than that which is in front of me.

The old adage goes: “The grass is always greener on the other side.” I feel as though that statement could be the guiding light that governs my mental processes. For a long stretch of my life, a statement like that made sense. I couldn’t do anything but look forward, and work through everything, because it was the only game in town.

There was not reminiscing about happy memories, because they only reminded me of where I was then. There was no going to work because i wanted to, until there was something worthwhile to do at the store, or whatever job worked over the years. There was none of this because in my mind, I was doing what I had to do, and the grass was going to be greener on the other side. What did that mean to me until i turned the ripe old age of 23? “Nothing is going to get better, just keep going, keep fighting. ” And that’s how it went

So I lived a life, forgoing everything. Like seriously, all of the things. I didn’t live my life, I was on auto-pilot for the burned out. I was accepting things as they came in my life, and I was content with this idea that money would eventually buy my understanding of the world that I had to neglect. The one where I could be what most would call their lives, something that I wasn’t fully aware of because I’d been so systematically conditioned not to feel what my life was. Not to have a wonderful adventure but a cautious stream of affirmations that just continued to happen, with no end in sight for me, and that didn’t bother me until I got this strange feeling.

Now my gut is pretty good at letting me know about what’s up, and six months after breaking my back and questioning a lot of things, I finally realized it was saying something I should probably pay attention to. It was saying, “mother fucker,Stop!”

Its a funny thing, when you feel like you’re brain is on the brink of collapsing on itself because you’ve dug yourself into so many logic problems with everything in your life that it all seems so bleak and futile, It was incredibly fascinating that something I considered myself, was something I didn’t agree with, and as such why couldn’t I just change it? It was something I hadn’t noticed at all until it crept up on me at times when I was attempting new things. I wasn’t just doing them, I was trying to instantly be as good as I could at them, because that’s what I knew how to do, assimilate into most any situation. Adapt and die or as I like to call it. I had learned this through years of watching others literally never being grateful for what they had or where they were, which tended to make me confused as to why that was.Turns out I ended up doing the same thing.

I had managed to fill my mind with all the information I could fit in it in order to make sure I was ready for anything that could happen. Why the fuck was I attempting to overwhelm myself? In case a game of life or death jeopardy broke out, where the stakes were everything and my brain was the only thing I could think would keep me from my untimely demise, that I had so will fully accepted years prior (that’s a different conversation all together). This system of retention and regurgitation, because that’s what I knew everyone wanted was one of the first things I’d noticed was off. I wasn’t learning to see the world, I was learning just to keep the data stores up. I had managed to turn everything I’d done into an information gathering exercise, that inevitably killed any interest I had in anything because I was once more, doing as I had always done.

So I laughed, this was  before realizing the fundamental problem, and I laughed a lot. Mainly because of err, substances, but also because I found it so hard to stop this compulsion that did nothing but constantly think and retain and attempt to understand any and every situation. Life had molded me, and as it turned out, I hadn’t really learned beyond how things worked, and even that was a basic understanding at best.

So I broke myself… a bunch.

At first it was just a basic understanding of what home meant (see previous post), but because I was so lost in thinking about where I belonged i never stopped to ask for what it was, I searching for?

Was it the ultimate answer to all things?

Neatly defined in a package that resembled the appearance of that of falling star, I gave up looking for that after I read Feynman.

Next I tried to re- organize and relabel everything in my mind to refocus what I thought I wanted to focus on. It was a like a five year old with a sack of sand attached the them, waking in circles attempting to clean up the mess they were making from inadvertently creating a hole in the bag. It was futile. I ended up falling to a depressive state that repeatedly told me I was shit at organizing. It wasn’t a fun time.

So I kept laughing, realizing that my mind was fickle being, with so many safeguards to ensure that I couldn’t attempt to fuck with it quick. I just stare and laugh these days. I just look at it like the greatest well of knowledge ever, but it occasionally likes to flood when I try to grab too much too quick, and spill all over the place. Its the cause of, pretty much any strife I’ve perceptively acknowledged. Literally every “problem” I’ve thought I’ve had has been because my mind was trying too hard, and playing a dangerous game of “How fast, and how far before he crashes?”

So I meditate, Medicate, and wake up everyday believing that my mind might shut up. So that it might give me a 20 minute period where I don’t know how to out myself because I’ve analyzed my surroundings enough to tell. I mean as much as this isn’t a laughing matter, its still hilarious every time I managed to realize what’s happening. Just because I grew into a mind that wasn’t designed to be going all the time, doesn’t mean its not my greatest asset, its just gets a little pointless sometimes. Sometimes.

So I laugh and hope that one day, I can slow down enough to teach these turtles the wonders of arts and possibly crafting. I know it’s not easy, seeing as they lack opposable thumbs and all, but this patience thing is a new-ish concept to me… i think I’ll try that.