Sometimes I really think that I have too much brain. And I don’t mean that in a narcissistic or good way. At all. I love Poirot, and he always makes reference to his ‘leetle grey cells.’
I wish I could turn mine off.
See, I really think that I have some kind of obsessive problem about thinking. Meaning that I do too much of it. Deciding what to order at a restaurant? Mildly disturbing – if I’ve been there before. If I haven’t, it’s a major undertaking. What to wear? That depends on where I’m going. If it’s someplace important this could result in hours of planning, over thinking and over analyzing – with the end result that I give up and just throw something on. Job interviews? Fine – while they’re happening. But I guarantee that afterwards I will spend the next hour, afternoon, day, weekend rethinking and deciding what I should have said instead.
Important conversations? Don’t even get me started. I may seem like I’m composed when I’m talking to you, but really I’m all aflutter. What comes out of my mouth is what is first in my mind at the time. But I guarantee that I’ll spend the next hour, afternoon, day… going back over what you said, how you said it and what it could have meant. And that’s when I see you face to face. How I screwed it up. I admit it – my brain always goes to the negative in these kinds of situations. Really. I even have a rubber band on my wrist that I use to snap myself with when I get stuck in these negative spirals.
Email? Text? Forget it. More than once, I’ve stewed myself into a real swivet (my new favorite word) over the meaning of a word or sentence, the speed (or lack thereof) of a reply. It’s a nightmare. Really. I’m about to swear off of email.
But then I’d probably find a way to over analyze the looks people give me when I’m out in public too.
Do they do brain transplants yet? Because I need to be on that list…