Push

voices-in-my-head

Sometimes I imagine my brain as a large data center, filled with tons of computers and people that operate them. I imagine that there is a large control panel and tons of people in white hazmat suits who operate them.

These guys control every motion, every thought, every emotion and everything else in between. Maybe they have brooms to sweep stuff away; especially emotions?

Every time I feel a negative emotion, regardless if it is sadness or anger, disappointment or loss, I feel like there are little men in my head that immediately sweep them away. It’s like an entire army shows up, sounds the alarm and yells “MAYDAY! INTRUDER ALERT” And immediately I start pushing them back to wherever they may have come from. Granted, that makes for a whole bunch of repressed crap, but on the bright side, I can switch from one mood to the next within seconds; which always freaked people out. As fear or despair washes over me, I immediately go into self-protect mode and make sure that all is under control.

It’s like a loud voice sounds the orders “We have it all under control here. Nothing to see here; keep moving on folks.” There is a reason I never got into drinking or drugs. I feel that could have really been dangerous for me. But what really drives it all away is my choice of music. When I need to push and purge, I choose techno, trance or dance music, which immediately overwrites the sad mode/gear I am in. If I feel it’s beneficial to feel for about 5 minutes, I listen to music that allows me to let go and feel. I know it’s messed up, but it’s the only way I know how to not fall completely apart when the proverbial shit hits the fan. I guess we all have our mechanisms.

I envy those who are strong enough to not feel despair or sadness. I envy those who live life day by day, have fun, exercise little control and follow their whims and passions. I am drawn to them, and yet I always feel I am not good enough for them. I can’t quite let go of anything and most people are not patient enough to make me feel safe enough to try.

So I hide in my head and behind my words and blogs and computer games and imaginary worlds I started creating when I was a mere child. I remember that a therapist once told me that the veil between sanity and insanity is rather thin and sometimes merely depends on a choice. I guess my choice was to walk the fine line along the abyss, clinging to the wall and making sure I won’t descend into the deep, dark madness.

I guess we all do our thing. Little men in the brain with white hazmat suits are mine. What can I say?