It's All in My Head: An Informal "Tour"

I’m supposed to be entering receipts into the computer for taxes, but there are so many thoughts swirling in my head—if I try to focus on something else, I will just be distracted by what’s going on in my head, until I get it down on “paper,” as it were. I’ve had people close to me tell me that I don’t share what’s going on with me most of the time. It’s because I think it would be too much for the average person. It’s too much for my own brain!

I’ve noticed myself going through a cycle lately. And for some time really. I will have one day where I feel remarkably “on top of the world,” accomplished in my tasks and full of positive perspectives. This is followed by a day that’s generally good but not quite as fulfilling and lighthearted as the day before. Then I find that I’m struggling to just get out of bed and get moving. And everything feels like too much. Then I don’t experience an emotional high-point day for another couple weeks. So essentially, I spend most of my life feeling like everything is too much.

I love how God tells us in His Word “…do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” When Fleetwood Mac came out with “Don’t Stop,” I was eight years old. We would sing it at school sometimes…Don’t stop thinkin’ about tomorrow. Don’t stop. It'll soon be here… Part of that little girl always felt an inner hesitation about that song, like ‘omigosh, do we have to go there already? Isn’t today enough?’ I don’t think that’s a typical kid’s response…but I was not your typical kid. And I’ve never been very good at the “do not worry” command (though I think it’s more of a reassurance than a command).

I’ve never been consistent with anything in my life, including school attendance, prayer, housework, discipline of my children, weight/fitness management—the latter I thought I had mastered about three years ago. I stayed on a program for an entire year and lost a remarkable 60 pounds! I was running, building muscle, and feeling really good about life. Then I allowed some circumstances in the world at large to invade my inner world and disrupt my peace. I gradually (though not as gradually as one might think) gained back those 60 pounds and haven’t made any significant progress in the realm of health since. I do believe that is a big part of my daily struggle. But I just can’t seem to commit to something. I’m caught in that trap of being stuck right where I’m at, emotionally, physically, spiritually—in all the ways that matter.

It’s not like I feel the walls are closing in on me. It’s more like the walls are all damaged in some way. They have leaks; they’re leaning instead of being secure; they’re crumbling; they’re made of the wrong materials to support the roof—the walls are more like a “lean-to” that are keeping me relatively sheltered but inside which I still feel incredibly vulnerable.

Without Christ, I’m pretty sure I would have considered suicide a few times—living in my head means a constant series of battles: chaos vs. creativity, peril vs. peace, heaviness vs. happiness, paralysis vs. perseverance—pretty much all the time. Sometimes I feel I’m a bit dis-integrated, like if all the facets of me were integrated properly I wouldn’t have so many errors flashing on the screen or system failures (to use a computer analogy). But no technician has been able to determine the root cause/s of the mystery. Oh, I’m sure God knows—and wants me to troubleshoot this conundrum with Him. And I do try—but some days I just see all the crisscrossed wires, connections, lights and circuits—and I want to close the panel and forget that there are any issues. But my mind won’t allow me to. It just keeps processing, however wildly. I am sensitive to the phrase “it’s all in your head,” because heck, yeah, it is! And it’s kind of stuck there.

It’s that complex “inner life” I’ve had difficulty communicating about since I was a child. Like my dad, I’ve always been introspective. So much so that even with hordes of friends, I feel isolated from others—even my spouse. When I get that far-off look and my husband asks me what I’m thinking, it’s incredibly difficult to answer at times. It could be a series of imagined scenarios, prompted by something I heard 20 minutes before and layered with life regrets; it may be a wave of nostalgia that has prompted me to review events in my life like a slideshow; it may be things that my parents said that I now understand more fully and started thinking about because I heard a phrase that took my thoughts in that direction—and with all the trains of thought there are undercurrents of joy, sorrow, trauma, wishing, gratefulness, and possibility. So I try to simplify my answer. Most of the time, my response is something like “lots of things.” Or I try to nail down the theme of what I was thinking about.

Lately I’ve been leaning into nostalgia for comfort. I like watching The Love Boat on Pluto TV because it takes me back to a time when life was simpler-there weren’t as many trains of thought to hop on. The happy endings make me feel hopeful—even if it is an artificial hopefulness—and I didn’t have to perform or create anything in order to experience it.

I know I still prefer a complex, active mind over a simple, sedentary one—but I need a way to filter my thoughts and channel some of the mind’s imaginings into purposeful actions. But that means letting people in; and that’s a much harder thing to do than I would have thought. It's knowing which doors to open that's the tricky part. Not everyone wants to be dragged down the scary corridors full of distorted mirrors and trap doors and things that jump out and say "boo." And I'm not the kind of friend who wants to take them there. I mean, you'd need some kind of specialized degree.

When simple things feel like “too much,” I know that Anxiety and Depression have stepped onto the platform at one or more of my mind’s train stations—and sometimes they’re big, burly guys who, once they’ve boarded, are very difficult to throw off, even if they’re causing lots of trouble. And sometimes they’re smooth talkers so that even without a legitimate ticket, they somehow end up making their way onto the train.

One of my earliest recalled dreams featured a full-size train going through the middle of a school. It was disruptive and dangerous, but at the same time fantastical and euphoric. Thus, it has become sort of a symbol for the workings of my mind. Much of my thoughts are invested toward trying to figure myself out—what might be the roots of some of my ruminations and behaviors. Ironically, God has given me a gift of seeing into others—and being able to speak clearly and meaningfully into their lives. I feel like He's been giving me some revelation about myself lately too though—and I can only hope for more and greater ones.

If you’re to understand any small thing about my thought patterns and predilections, know the following: I love and feel deeply. I tend to see everything that happens in life as being connected, like the threads on the back of a tapestry. I have a strong faith and an undying conviction that God is good. I know that I am unique—there is no one like me in all the universe! And there is no one like YOU. That, for sure, is something to be grateful for. And even if all my uniqueness is overwhelming and confusing much of the time, I have so much to be thankful for. And I will keep listening to the Lord about who He’s made me to be—it’s His voice that matters, and He’s the only one who can make sense of it all.