The Battle Inside My Brain Rages On

For all intents and purposes, my brain, especially the frontal lobe, is a pretty simple organ. It’s more of a mom and pop grocery store than a multi-billion dollar conglomeration. And I’m fine with that…really. No, honest. I really am. Sure, you’re thinking “oh, she’s just covering up. No one’s proud of their lack of intelligence.” Okay, you’re right. It’s not something I’m going to buy a highway billboard to advertise, but I’m not going to lie about it either.

I’m really not here to talk about my IQ. The point I was trying to make with that opening is not that I’m not smart. It was just an opening line. GOD, let me finish, okay. Here’s what I was about to say before you rudely interrupted me with your ego analysis. Okay, don’t cut in this time. Promise? Good. I’m a simple person, but a complex war is being fought in my brain. No… it has nothing to do with craving chocolate. See, you butted in AGAIN. I’m just not going to tell you if you’re going to keep doing this. I…okay…yeah, keep your hands over your mouth, yeah…just like that. Part of my brain wants so badly to write and the other part is afraid to write and keeps thinking of things to do instead of writing. I guess you can tell which side is winning the battle tonight. YAY, right brain, or left, or whatever. When the scared side of my brain makes excuses not to write, the writing side of my brain verbally assaults the scared side calling her a whole host of not very Sunday School-like names, like stupid and loser and dumb head and minimum  wage earner and never reach your full potential. Okay, that’s not even a name, but the writing side can be very vicious with the scared side. It’s like the two sides are in a car together and the scared side is driving, but not to where the writing side wants to go. But it told the writing side when they got in the car that they were going to the place where the writing side wanted to go and then it turned in its own direction and rather than going to the laptop, it went to the laundry room. The writing side gets very mad and takes it out on the whole car. It doesn’t just get mad at the scared side, it questions its own worth as part of the brain, thinking if it could control the scared side more, it would get more time to write. Then it thinks of giving up writing altogether and becoming the teacher side of the brain (which it sort of does now, but is just waiting until May when it can shed that title). The writing side of the brain knows that it’s an extremely talented writer, but the scared side is often stronger…and has the car keys. Yes, the only set.

The writing side must find a way to jump into the driver’s side and kick the scared side out of the car, or at least into the back seat, tied up with masking tape. The owner of the two brain parts (that’s me) is starting to question the scared side’s worth altogether and is looking to make some changes to the scared side. Perhaps therapy, hypnosis, positive affirmations. Or, maybe the owner needs to make sure that the writing side works out more, practices writing, bulks up so that it can kick the controlling scared side’s ass. Yeah, perhaps the writing side can start taking steroids…writing steroids.   

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About angelaweight

Awkward, imperfect, ADD wife to tightly wound financial planner, mom of two boys, and rescuer of lucky stray animals. I should probably see a therapist rather than write a blog. But hopefully I can offer a few laughs along the way.
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