I hate that feeling like your brain is going to explode. I'm really trying to be very aware of what I say and how I say it. I think it's good for me because the more aware I am of these things, the better able I am to make adjustments to communicate more effectively. I still have moments where I just start talking and I'm not really thinking about what I'm saying and then I realize how confused I must sound to people who don't know me (and even to some people who do know me, although the ones who count have developed that oh-so-important sixth-sense of being able to interpret my ramblings into something that makes sense. At least to us.)
So while I think it is a good exercise for me to be purposeful and aware of what I'm saying. The results are mixed and the symptom is that I feel sometimes like my brain could explode. The negative side-effect has been that when I sit down to write, all the stuff I've been mulling over in my head gets jumbled up with all the stuff I haven't said out loud, with terrible results in my writing. I have several drafts written and they are all one big BLEH of nothingness. A few sentences here and there make sense to me, but when I read it all in context I have no idea what I'm trying to convey. I want to write about some of the things I'm learning about myself and my faith, but it all sounds crazy when I look at the words on the screen. I guess I could make the argument that if you're learning about a crazy person, whatever you discover will likely be crazy as well, but that seems like a sorry excuse.
The other reason I haven't posted the drafts is that what I've written about my quest to this point has caused alarm in some of my friends. I thought I was doing an adequate job of explaining where I'm coming from -- that this is a good journey for me at this point in my life, no matter how frustrating. But apparently, I'm just doing a good job of making people concerned for my mental and emotional well-being. I know I joke around about being crazy and feeling like I'm losing it, but I don't mean it in a clinical sense. I really just say those things about myself because I realize that while other people have learned to sit up straight and put on a normal face for those around them, I have not. All my quirks and oddities are just out there for anyone to see because I have not learned to hide them behind an 'I'm Normal' mask. Maybe it's because I was homeschooled....
(Kidding. Kind of.)
I realize this post isn't very cohesive, but it's the best I can muster right now. I needed to write something to get over the bleh. I was just waiting for it to pass, but I started thinking that the longer I let it go on, the worse it was going to get. I'll end with a little excerpt from another Caedmon's Call song, 'This World.' (So, yeah. Maybe I can't stop listening to my old, old, old Caedmon's Call CD. I'll get over it eventually.) I love the last part especially, about making up for lost time. In a way, that's what I feel like I'm doing. It's stressful and frustrating, but also exciting and liberating. It's all part of unraveling... in a good way.
There's tarnish on the golden rule
And I want to jump from this ship of fools.
Show me a place where hope is young
And a people who are not afraid to love.
This world has nothing for me,
And this world has everything.
All that I could want
And nothing that I need.
This world has held my hand
And has led me into intolerance.
But now I'm waking up,
And I'm breaking up,
And I'm making up
For lost time…