Some Days Brain Just Won’t Think
Random emotions and words and images swirl like a maelstrom around in my mind but my brain can’t grab hold of one single thought. My thoughts are colourful eddies mixing and fighting to produce, not art, but a mess. I can’t see the edges, where one ends and another begins.
Nothing makes sense today. I wonder if this is how it’s going to be from now on. I can’t imagine being clear of thought, sure of action, although I’m pretty sure I was okay yesterday. And I’ll probably be okay tomorrow.
So, what do I do?
The only thing I can do: Accept that today is one of those days that will produce nothing of value. Nothing will change in my life today. I will not change anyone else’s life today.
Today is one of those days with no focus. Everything annoys me and nothing feels right. Parts of me hurt so I try not to feel. My brain spins, making me dizzy and slightly nauseous.
I cling to the hope that this is just one day and that tomorrow will be back to normal.
I step outside and let nature wash over me. I wander with no purpose, no goal.
I’m doing okay not thinking until a magpie subtly reminds me that I’m in its territory. It politely flies low but not too close, makes loud swooping, flapping noises just above my head before alighting on a telephone pole. It eyes me sternly and sharpens its beak, warning me to remember just where I am. I sometimes give it food, but it reminds me now that we aren’t friends. Just beings sharing some of the same space some of the time.
I feel drained and a little bit off. I resent the magpie but also respect it, so I cede the space, give up and head home.
Enough of this nature bs, I’m heading back inside.
But before I do, I lie on my back on the wooden deck. The deck with the boards that are all shades of grey like a patchwork quilt. I pull my hat down over my eyes but it still doesn’t block out the sun. I put my right forearm over my face to keep the brightness away. Today is not a day for brightness. Today should be grey and dismal to match my mood.
The wind ruffles my clothes as it passes quickly over me. It tickles a bit, feels like a caress but with no expectations, no return obligations.
My feet hang over the edge of the deck and rest on the damp ground. We’ve had a lot of rain over the past few months and the ground never quite gets the chance to dry out. The wind is doing its best to help but the rain will be back in a couple of days, so why bother?
I should probably sit up now. I wonder if there are any snakes out today. It’s sunny and windy, not cold but not warm. Snakes should be coming out of hiding now that it’s spring. Not that we see many around our house but the odd one does make an appearance. What if there’s one right now right near my right foot? Our snakes are silent; you never hear them, only see them. What if I sit up too quickly and give it a fright? I should sit up slowly just in case, right? I sit up and there’s no snake.
I step inside the house and lock the outside outside. Inside the wind can’t reach me and the sun can’t touch me. Inside is my territory.
I still have no energy. I want to do something, but I can’t be bothered doing anything.
I pick up a book. I read and reread sentences over and over, trying to understand what they’re saying. I try another book with the same result. I put the books down.
I want to watch a movie, but I can’t decide what to watch so I don’t watch anything.
I switch on the tv and surf. Nothing grabs my interest. I switch the tv off.
I go to another room and just sit with my senses.
I watch the outside from the inside. The wind whistles around and down the chimney, roaring slightly when it can’t get in. The leaves and the grass sway in time to the aggressive tune.
No animals today. My magpie friend has gone back to its family and the kangaroos won’t be around until later this afternoon.
There are no clouds in the eggshell-blue sky. The glare of the bright day makes me tired, so I close my eyes.
I feel the soft cushion of the chair embracing my shoulders. I rub my hands back and forth on the velvety arms, this way is smooth, that way is rough, smooth, rough, smooth, rough.
I listen to the hum of the fridge in the next room and the whirr of my laptop fan on my lap. The tip-tap of the keys as I try to write this. I try to make the thoughts stay still enough to be captured but they fight like feral cats cornered in a bedroom.
I sit here and wonder: What do I want? Why do I bother?
Today I don’t know.
And that’s okay. I know it won’t be all days.
Some days brain just won’t think.
