Mental Notes

At eleven-thirty, I decided enough was enough. There was no way I was going to let myself make the next day hell before it had even begun. I had spent a good twenty minutes listening to something called “guided meditation.” I had sprayed my pillow with “relaxing” lavender stuff from the co-op. I had gotten into my bed and turned off all the lights and listened to nature sounds. I focused on the ceiling. I made up rhyming poetry about livestock. I had decided what I would wear the next day, and what I would eat for lunch. I had even cleaned my room a little bit, or what was left to clean from my previous nightly cleanups. At eleven-thirty, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, and that’s when it began.

My mind closed in on itself. For a minute, everything was calm and I was aware of how relaxed my muscles had become and how tired my body felt from walking around and being me all day. But then my mind stopped being calm. In fact, it became quite perturbed and it tripled and quadrupled in every dimension and every thought about every hypothetical and every fact and every situation came rushing into me. Impossible questions kids asked me while I babysat them two weeks ago and impossible questions I asked myself daily kept me captive. Why does it hurt more when I pinch less skin? Why do people get sick? Do cows have different moos if people have different voices? Can animals tell when other animals are mad? Like, can a goat tell if a chicken is mad? Why can “mad” sometimes mean “upset” and sometimes mean “crazy”?
And then I thought about words and I wondered who came up with them. The first people probably decided words based on their meanings and the way they sounded. Maybe the worst sounds, like “K,” meant anger or pain and the nicer ones, like “H,” were for laughing and happiness. The word “disgusting” makes your mouth wince with the “D”, like a fake smile, and it makes you scrunch up your nose just a little bit at the end, just from pronouncing it, especially if you enunciate. And when you think of something particularly disgusting, you make the same kind of face. I made a mental note to check online for the history of the formation of words. I rolled over and looked at the blank wall by my bed. I had taken down all the pictures and posters because they didn’t seem to help when I was trying to “find my center” and “relax” my mind. Now I just played a game where I tried to remember everything that had ever been on that wall, which didn’t help at all.
The funny thing is sometimes I think maybe this could be a good thing. Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve never thought that independently. It’s always been someone who said something along the lines of “Wow, what do you do for all those hours?” And usually I get irritated and I just say something sarcastic or cold like “I try to sleep,” or “I throw parties.” What I can’t understand is why they ask such stupid questions. Do they expect me to use that time proactively? Of course I spend all that time pouring over textbooks and running on the treadmill and thanks to insomnia I lead an exemplary life riddled with organization and efficient time-management. But honestly, for a week or so last year, I did try to turn it into something productive; the same way people turn their anger towards woodworking or some other passion fueled occupation. For me it ended badly. It made me sleep even less. A week of productivity later, I was hospitalized for exhaustion and dehydration.

The doctor said it was because of anxiety. I remember thinking I rarely felt anxious at all, except for at school. All I feel is tired. I feel the way really old dogs look when they walk – unstable and tired beyond the point of comprehension. I made another mental note to research arthritis is dogs. Maybe a dog would help me sleep somehow. I decided to look up the therapeutic effect of pets too. I got out of bed again. Maybe if I tried doing something boring I would get bored and fall asleep. I grabbed a snack and tried reading one of my dad’s law books. It made me more tired, but still unable to sleep.

I crawled back into bed again. It was only 2 AM. I closed my eyes and my mind opened again. That time, I think I dreamed. When I woke again, I couldn’t remember. I just rolled around in bed.

The doctor suggested thinking about things that could have made me anxious and “expelling” them from my mind so I could be in a “happy mindset” when I went to bed. But I don’t feel anxious. Maybe I was subconsciously anxious. I thought about all the people I talked to that day. Maybe I had an attitude problem or something that made me perpetually in denial. Did people pick up on that? Did I give a bad first impression? Did people think I was mean? First impressions are important. On Radio Lab, it said chimpanzees form opinions of humans with time. That’s why vets and zoologists have to become familiar with chimps before working closely with them. We are descendants of chimps, but we make snap judgments. I make snap judgments. Maybe I should try to stop. People always say judging is bad. But on the other hand, everyone does it subconsciously. Does that mean that everyone I know is subconsciously a bad person? No, of course not. But what if…

The doctor said maybe it was because my mind was overworked. That doesn’t make sense. I’m not even in college yet. When things are overworked, they slow down and eventually break down, like cars. I never slow down, and I don’t need to.

I turned on my light and checked my clock again. 4:17 AM. When I woke up again, it 5:32, so I just got up. I put on my planned outfit, went to the kitchen to make my planned lunch and ate breakfast. I kissed my mother good morning.
“How was your night?”
“Fine.”