Coping

I’m starting to think that my brain has evolved and entered a new realm. In this realm, it requires softer movements, lowered sounds, and less cognitive overload. The truth simply is that I am not as much of a hustler as I used to be, and my brain has graduated into a slower state. Is this long Covid? I don’t know. But do I feel like I could use with a slower and more sensory pace of life? Absolutely, yes. I am starting to forget things; I need to write them down now. I am unable to pack as many tasks in a day that I used to; I need more help. I have to start saying no; this one I am still working on.

Is it a sign of the times, I wonder? Maybe. My theory is that most humans require rest from the capitalistic machinations of our world, but we are all too scared to stop the churning wheel. I could be horribly wrong about this as I am about most things concerning other people. I’ve come to realise that I don’t want the same things as most people do, yet I constantly have to struggle painfully with the world because of this exact reason. I don’t miss the pandemic much, but I do miss the opportunities it had provided us to re-order our societies. A lost chance, I am certain.

For many weeks I have been very emotionally stressed and angry. It has been a time of great tumult for me, but I sought no help or recourse. In fact, I even forgot I could journal about it until I was reminded that journalling could help with managing the awry emotions. I don’t even know if I have a journal anymore, so when I opened the drawers to my cupboard I found many things including a cross-stitch sewing kit and an Alice in Wonderland adult colouring book. I had abandoned the sewing because it used to hurt my eye and head to look into the very small cloth and stitches. I had bought it online, what did I expect? I’ve kept the colouring book aside as a reminder that I used to indulge in such hobbies and they made me happy.

Perhaps, that is one of the reasons why I have been so fraught. I have deeply neglected my own self and my interests. I have not done many things I enjoy in many weeks. I believe this is why humans become unhappy because they neglect their own needs. I have done it for far too long. I have, however, treated my senses and my slowing brain to green spaces and the sounds of water whenever I got the chance. It is a blessing to have clean spaces now that the planet itself is a commodity, but more on that later.

To go back to some of my hobbies, I downloaded many book samples on my Kindle in an attempt to find a new book — science fiction, story of women divers in Jeju island, story about a journal in London, about a women’s prison in Afghanistan, and a story of an immigrant — I have set myself a task to read all the samples and not abandon them. Being strict with myself is a thing of the past. I try not to be too hard on myself despite that I am deeply self-critical. It’s a struggle. It is a lie.

Our brains may be going from phase to phase and now mine is unable to take the burdens I place on it. I aspire to start using all these techniques and what not just to make the act of every day living easier. So far, I have a reminder for my medication, a notebook to list down tasks, and messages written beforehand to be sent. I also am more plain with people if they’ve hurt me or crossed boundaries because I am genuinely unable to carry all this overthinking in my brain. I need to let it go, but I let it go to the person it is intended for. I am unable to feel sorry for my aging, if that’s what it is, but it sure as hell scares me. I am scared by my own forgetfulness sometimes, but my brain probably deserves a little rest. It has been through too much.

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