Whenever I ask myself a question, it’s as though no other thoughts infiltrate my head other than the probable answers. My focal point is set and all else falls away.
Rational Brain – “And what question is on your mind tonight might I ask?”
No questions. I’m just mulling this fact over in my head. I mean, one question and nothing else seems to matter except for that one question.
I had a bipolar day today. I can’t remember my last bipolar episode before today. I’d forgotten what they feel like.
It feels like someone sits on my chest making it impossible for me to breathe. I feel listless, without happiness. Like a Harry Potter dementor came to pay me a visit. It’s quite literally a physical sensation. Only one who experienced deep sadness can tell you about it. Your heart physically aches. How was I able to forget that?
All because of my impending birthday coming up on stupid Valentines day. I remembered it’s this coming Saturday. Last night I remembered and last night was when it started – the polar shift in my icecaps. I woke up today with a big fatty of a dementor hanging over my head, washing away all the nice dreams I had.
Then I started worrying about my business and how I’ll never make any money with it. All my thoughts were void of question. My thoughts were inarguable statements without choice.
That’s what dementors do. They rob you of your questions. Without questions, you lose your focal point, your purpose. And something else takes the reins – fear.
It’s so odd coming to this realization. It’s particularly odd for me since I don’t like to complain about anything until I find a solution first. First a solution, than I can complain all I want about the thing that once made my life hell. I complain with a light heart – one that I’m fully in control of. But I slip up at times and unwittingly complain in my internal grumblings.
My friend told me the other day that I’m the most emotionally stable person she knows.
It baffles me because if I’m so emotionally stable, then why am I still up at 5:30 in the morning unable to sleep? Writing about dementors and how I feel like I have a man sitting on my chest?
If I’m considered stable, I don’t want to know what other people think about. It’s also kind of funny how nobody really know’s anyone.
I’m up because I’m excited about my new discovery that asking the right question is like casting the most powerful patronus charm against all dementors. I had to look up patronus charm and Google miraculously knew my question before it was asked.
Here’s a question for you…..are we more apt to be sad in these futuristic times when answers are given to us before we can type them into a search engine? Since answers are ample on the net, forums and blogs abound, are we less inclined to seek out a more personal take on things?
In other words, do we stop asking questions because the answers are already there for us? We only have to open a book, or more conveniently, a laptop.
We are taught from baby-hood to listen to those who know better – and those people who know better just so happen to be anyone that’s older than us. We’re inclined to listen more than we’re inclined to think. It’s what we’re taught. Lucky for me, thanks to my mother, I learned how to NOT listen to adults.
My mom is crazy and I knew from an insanely young age that I had a better gauge on reality than she did. I owe everything to my mother, but that’s a different story.
What was I saying? Ah yes. According to my new insight, if we stop asking questions, the dementors will come find us. We lose our power and source of awareness. Awareness is found by asking questions.
Rational Brain – “That sounds insightful, can you spread your words on that?”
Okay but I won’t get too deep into it. I’m tired.
Shit no, I can’t explain it without getting deep into it. It’ll have to wait. Damn the thoughts are flowing. Damn you rational brain.
It’ll wait. Another night.
Anywho, in other news….
I’m looking to hire another therapist to work weekends. I can’t hack it anymore.
Another reason for my malcontent earlier today was because I had to work. It’s Wednesday, so I only had to massage clients who requested me, but even still – it brought me down. The moment I was done massaging them, I brightened up and the shroud lifted.
So, my impending birthday wasn’t the only weight on my chest – it was the weight of work that sent me over.
When I worked at Massage Envy, I hated it don’t get me wrong, but I buckled down and did it because I didn’t think I had a choice. But now that I’ve grown so much and am able to finally see that I do have a choice, the dread becomes more vehement in a way. More angry, more rebellious. Like a teenager with a curfew who just got her drivers license.
“I don’t have to do this anymore.” Is your new focal point. And the fact that you’re still doing it, only entices your wrath against it. And when left without asking questions that mindfully set your focal point, can lead you to a polar shift of malcontent.
Don’t ask “Why am I still doing this?” ask instead, “How can I stop doing this?”
Holy crap I just deleted a whole bunch of shit I just wrote. It was work rambles.
The endings to my posts often suck the shit out of everything preceding it.