Hearing My Brain

I'm not sound of mind. On some sort of fundamental level, deep under the conscious thought patterns I've structured, something is brewing. It never stops. It never goes away. It just bubbles away: formulating, conjuring, processing and taunting.

I often catch myself sitting alone, in deep thought, rocking myself as if somehow swaying to and fro will stabilise the cauldron that is my subconscious. I've read research that indicates that this motion is employed when the mind is trying to find security. I suspect this may be true.

There are days when the cauldron bubbles over a bit, and I am overrun with feelings of exasperation and anguish. There are days when the cauldron overflows and my thoughts become violently scattered, emotion is numbed and the world looks darker.

But the days to be feared are the days when the cauldron is rocked off its legs. On those days the mind becomes a black hole of death and violence. The world falls out of view and reason is submerged in agony.

We have a society that loves to cover these things up. People don't talk about their problems, they smile and shake hands. They meet the social requirements so they can lie to people because they know what they would do to someone who admitted they felt the way they do. But who's truly sicker? The man who stands up and says "I'm depressed" or the man who goes home and masturbates to child porn?

There's a Dream Theater song entitled Repentance, and at the end of the song John Petrucci makes a wonderful observation. A man says "You're only as sick as your secrets, but the truth shall set you free", to which John responds "The truth is the truth, all you can do is live with it"

I don't know if it's because my mind processes things on a different level, but I do believe my demons are different to the average person's. I don't believe it's normal to rock yourself to security when you are alone in thought. I don't believe it's normal to feel truly exasperated by morals, or social norms, or humanity itself.

But as long as I notice myself rocking, I believe I'm a lot more sound of mind than most of the people I meet. I don't believe I'll ever stop rocking when I'm alone. Over the last seven years it's become a security in itself, a sign of sanity. It's not going away, it's part of my truth. All I can do is live with it.

Now, I didn't write this blog to let you all know how far down the rabbit hole I may be, I wrote it to provoke a question: What is your truth that you have to live with?