Arguing with my brain

I frequently disagree with my brain, it leads to a lot of anxiety and moments of frustration. Here’s a common conversation we have on the daily:

Me: Today isn’t going well. I wish I had someone to talk to about it.

Brain: Why? No one cares.

Me: Sure they do! 

Brain: They’re only being polite.

Me: Well it’s nice when they ask how I’m doing and listen. Oh look! A friend is online! I’m going to ask how they’re doing and see if they can talk.

Brain: Good luck with that.

*30 minutes later*

Brain: How did it go?

Me: Fine… They’re doing really well.

Brain: Did they ask how you were?

Me: …no.

Brain: See?

Me: See what? They’re probably busy! 

Brain: Or they don’t care.

Me: Sometimes things spring up that need full attention. They’re probably focused on something important.

Brain: Yes they are, they’re focusing on not caring about you.

Me: I highly doubt that.

Brain: Then why didn’t they ask after you?

Me: I just said, they’re probably busy!

Brain: Busy ignoring you.

Me: Okay, you know what? I am a good person! I care about others and I like hearing about their days! Even if they don’t have time to ask about me, much less remember, at least they know that I care about them and I genuinely mean it when I ask “How are you?” So why don’t you shut up, and let me enjoy my friendships!

Brain: …

Me: …

Brain: … They still don’t care.

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!

Anyone else have this argument with their brain? Logically, I know that my friends care and love me. But my brain likes to lie to me and make me feel unimportant. Having a mental illness makes it hard to trust in other people, but it makes it impossible to have trust in myself. 

I spoke to my close friend, Sarah Fader (CEO of Stigma Fighters, follow her on twitter @thesarahfader) and she gave me some damn good advice, “Sometimes, you need to just ask for what you want and not give a fuck about the consequences.” Hell fucking yes. It’s not easy to do, but I’m making a conscious effort to voice my feelings and to ask for what I need from others. 
Follow me on twitter @JoyPearson for more up-to-date arguments I have with my brain.

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Thoughts on a Desire to Write 

I want to write.

I really do, but blank pages keep blocking me from pulling through.

So I’m reduced to this,

Stream-of-consciousness lines,

That don’t really make any sense.

This is how I write when I can’t,

Skipping lines to start new sentences,

Hoping the next one compliments the prior.

However now looking at this post,

I’m feeling no more, but less than a writer

(Anyone else see the rhyme there?

No? Just as well, I’m not writing for a prize).

I’d hoped to write something strong,

A long prosaic piece on the super powers of those called ‘mentally ill’

But documents lost and motivation strayed

Somehow sucked all my time away

(Did that rhyme? I don’t know anymore,

I’m just gonna keep writing a little more).

I’d apologize for this post being out of place

But this is my blog to begin with.

So enjoy my thoughts, 

As I write the way my mind wanders and strays,

Maybe my words will get better,

Maybe someday….

Follow me on twitter @JoyPearson for even weirder stream-of-conscious posts. 

Fidget Spinner demonstration

I got a new fidget toy to demo!

Let’s wrap this post up!

For more up-to-date insanity follow me on twitter @JoyPearson

If you like smelly bath bombs, pretty greeting cards, or just awesomeness feel free to visit my shop!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/WandlessWanderers?ref=search_shop_redirect

Free Book Giveaway: You are Here and Postcards From The Edge

Jenny Lawson strikes again! Booksgiving has come back to bite me in the but (not a bite, so much as a gentle nibble…. or a kiss….. this just got weird….. I apologized, lets pretend this never happened [#TheBloggessTribe I hope you caught the reference]) and I got some surprises in the mail today! See the video for the whole story:


Instructions for the Free Book Giveaway:

1. Follow me on twitter @JoyPearson

2. Tweet me your favorite Jenny Lawson OR Carrie Fisher quote (I am only counting literary quotes, movie quotes [such as Star Wars, Blues Brothers, or When Harry Met Sally] will not be counted).

3. Thursday March 9 the winner will be drawn and announced at Noon.

Fidget Cube Demonstration

I recently received a fidget cube and it’s been a real life saver. I shared it on my twitter and got a lot of questions, so I made a video to demonstrate the cube and answer frequently asked question:


Here is the link to the cube demonstrated in the video:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SNX80/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_tai_1wHRybXJR3XAD
For more anxious antics follow me on twitter @JoyPearson

This Is Us Showing You a Breakdown 

Breakdowns are rough. The lead up is like inching up towards the highest peak of a rollercoaster, only you’re blindfolded and you don’t know when the drop will occur. 

The hit family show This Is Us portrays the breakdown in the most relatable manner I have yet seen in television. The signs are so subtle, Randall’s hand starts twitching, he misplaces words and thoughts, eyes wondering all over the place to avoid looking at the problem right in the face. 

There’s a moment at the end when Randall’s brother, Kevin, comes to his office late at night to find Randall in the middle of a breakdown. Randall is sitting in the corner of his office, silent tears streaming down his face; as Kevin sits besides him and holds Randall, he collapses. 

I sat with tears as I watched this, thinking of a day that occurred 3 years ago in my senior year of college. The signs where there for days; I’d been impatient with my roommates whenever there were too many voices or topics of conversation going on at once, I’d been showering 3-4 times daily (it seemed to be the only place where I could listen to my mind without wanting to slam my head into a brick wall), and my nails were constantly picking at myself (scabs, nail polish, etc). 

I felt like I’d been swimming in water with molasses slowly being added, making it harder and harder for me to move an inch forward without feeling exhausted. I had so many obligations to others, school, and my job that finding time for me was well near impossible. The time I did make for myself, I used to find and have my very last one night stand ever. 

I walked into my senior thesis class dressed to unimpress. I clearly remember wearing sweatpants and a plaid flannel shirt, my curly hair was down and curled around my head like a cloud. I was thankful for my hair later, for it covered my face enough during my breakdown that few could see my face. 

I won’t describe what happened, it’s still hard for me to talk about without feeling I’m reliving it. So I’ll give you a metaphor. I was an over-inflated balloon, full of anxiety and pressures that I was trying my hardest to keep condensed and contained. My classmates? They were the darts. They began slinging themselves at my balloon, holes started to spring in the surface and leak out my emotions. I try to patch them up and hold them over, but the darts don’t stop flying. 

I don’t know how long the critiques took that day, it felt like hours of criticisms and complaints, all aimed towards myself and my friend (who was also a balloon at this time too). Who knows how long it took, but finally I popped.

I reached out and snatched my bag from the floor beside my chair and stood up so suddenly I almost knocked the chair over. I mumbled something like, “Excuse me” and burst out the door of the classroom.

I remember breathing. My breathing was so loud I was sure everyone I passed thought a wind was upon them. All I thought was “Keep moving and they won’t catch you. Lock yourself in and they won’t get you.”

I remember slamming into my dorm suite, three of my roommates looking up from the common room table to see me move past in a beeline for my bedroom, where I slammed the door and locked it. 

I kept the light off because light showed to much, I didn’t want to see what I had turned into. It was the first time I’d walked out of a classroom, I was positive the professor was already calling my parents to tell them what a terrible student I was. 

So I called the only person I knew exactly what I was feeling in that moment: My brother.

My brother, Will, had been struggling with anxiety for years. I’d seen him go through his own breakdowns, so I knew he could help me through mine.

“Hey Joy, what’s up?”

I don’t remember what I said, but it sounded a lot like a screaming harbor seal. I was sobbing and wailing, even I couldn’t make sense of it. My roommates were outside my door knocking, asking me if everything was okay. I wasn’t okay. My balloon finally burst, and like a popped blister everything hurt with every breath.

Will calmed me down, telling me to breathe. Just breathe in, hold, then slowly exhale. When that worked, I told him everything more coherently. Later my parents called and comforted me as well. 

I sit here now watching Kevin hold Randall, and warm tears fill my eyes as I remember Will’s voice telling me gently to breathe. The thing about breakdowns is, you don’t know when they will happen; and when they do happen, having someone there to remind you to breathe makes all the difference in the world.  My kudos and deep compliments to Sterling K. Brown for his superb acting and portrayal of anxiety and nervous breaks.
Find me on twitter @JoyPearson for more anxiety antics