I live on Pluto
I am sitting with a small group of friends at a Thai restaurant. I am supposed to be enjoying the good company of my friends in the popular go-to restaurant, but I’m miserable. The customers are loud and I can barely hear myself speak. Instead of raising my voice, I listen to my friend, who loves to speak, tell us her mundane, yet told in an exciting and convincing way, stories. I have always taken the back seat when it comes to speaking, but it is not always easy. Giving up my chances to speak is giving up on myself. I have convinced myself I cannot tell a good story or explain anything. It is this anxiety that has left me feeling numb for years.
I do not know how long I have been walking through life with this apathy, but it has affected the most important asset of my life—my brain. The brain is the reason why we think and make decisions, but my brain has been in the fog. A good term I stumbled upon is brain fog. It is as though the inter-neuron connections in my brain are lost in the fog. Perceiving or understanding something takes a slower time when I need to perceive or understand something immediately. For example, I am currently working in a research lab that requires the student (me) to be a bright student by quickly answering questions presented by my mentor. Without a doubt, my mentor thinks I am rather slow. It takes me a while to think about the question, or appear to think about the question, and then respond to her. Moreover, in my courses I cannot remember the lectures when I tell myself to consciously remember them (doing so will decrease my studying time outside class). My brain cannot actively connect with the information and register in my memory. I know that learning in my internship (work performance) and class (test performance) is important for my future, but my apathy of the present makes me less concerned for the future.
I see, feel and touch the world through my eyes, but the feeling is incredibly distant. It is as though I am a puppeteer, who controls my body on the dwarf planet Pluto and can see what happens on Earth from a monitor. The puppeteer reacts slowly when my body experiences life on Earth. I do not exist within me. This is not my body. This is not my existence. Even so, I am truly lost. How do I reconnect my body and soul so that I can be whole?
The problem is I have never felt connected to my body for as long as I can remember. Throughout my life I have always felt disconnected and weird. I went through the motions of life of what was necessary of me. Now I am reaching the end of my safety net of school and I am entirely lost. I did not have enough time to blow away the fog or fly back to Earth. I have not accomplished what I set out to be and I blame it on the present me. I cannot feel deeply or recognize my family and friend’s love for me. I am in the air and will probably be there soon.
I can totally relate to the dinner with friends situation. The last few times I went out with my friends, I found myself in the same position, I was cranky and board to death. Know that there is someone else out there that can relate.
Be well…
Josh
Hmm… I’ve always felt alone in this sense. Actually, I didn’t think it was odd; I just figured that I was the quiet type, that other people had more interesting things to say than I. Well, I’m smart, and I do have things to say!
I went through high school in a brain fog – I can’t even remember my prom. My friends tell me about class parties that I don’t recall happening.
I have days now without the fog; and I’m learning, and I’m able to make those connections to understanding and perceiving. I can participate in class, talk to people, and say interesting things.
The next day, my teacher looks at me, expecting a smart reply, and I just stare at my book. “What did she say? What was the question?” I feel slow and stupid, but I can’t make heads or tails of her simple question.
It’s nice to find places like this where I find other people who understand what I’m going through. It’s nice to feel that camaraderie. Thank you for being honest and for sharing your experiences.
The brain fog makes it so hard for normal functioning. Let it uplift completely for us both.
Depression is such an ugly disease for what it does on the inside. If people only knew how we struggle, maybe they would be more understanding.
I know what the “fog” is like, and it’s so frustrating, you wonder why your brain is 10 steps behind you. Make the most of the good days and pray for strength on the bad days. That’s what I do.
Be well,
Josh
I am trying to train my brain to look for the positive. The good days are sparse but I have to remember to look forward to them when they come, even if they come as surprises. I will stay positive. Thanks, Josh.
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