I really can’t make such a sweeping statement and get away with it, I know. But there is a truth to this in any case.
I’m a thinker. People have all too often told me I “think too much”. And I’ve all too often taken this as an indication that I’m doing something wrong. It would make sense that way, because my habit of thinking constantly about everything has given me countless sleepless nights and endless days of rumination and its resulting misery. I kept thinking something must be wrong with me, that people were right about my overthinking. But now I think that everyone else is just underthinking. Ignorance is bliss after all.
I can’t stop thinking because, Jesus, how can you, when there’s a universe of unexplored intellectual territory? My problem is not that I think too much. My problem is that I get overwhelmed by the sheer breadth of information that I am constantly taking in and processing. Because of this, I have more often than not just avoided thinking altogether by dulling my mind with substances and television shows. That was a godawful spiral if I ever knew one.
Sedating the thinker in me didn’t make it go away. In fact it made me even more restless, and bored with everything and everyone that came my way. Often there was some novelty, but it wore off quickly because I’d dulled my mind too much for it to enact its natural process of excitedly exploring the new stimuli it encountered.
It went from everything being interesting to everything being boring. And some huge part of me broke down badly because it knew this was not natural for me, this was not who I was. The thing I loved most about myself, the thing I found interesting about myself, was incapacitated, so of course I was bored. I was bored with myself.
It took a while of being sober before I remembered who I was again. And boy, I cannot tell you how exhilarating it felt when I realized I was back. My mind, like a hyper child, once again pursuing knowledge and information, inspired by discovery and exploration again.
Everything became interesting again. And the thinker is back. A couple of weeks ago I did regress because I made the mistake of isolating myself too early in my recovery. And I found myself unwittingly bored again. So it’s not surprising that I broke down the way I did. But I bounced back surprisingly quickly and dramatically too. And that in itself is interesting to me. Delving into my own behaviour and thinking, the cause and effect of what went wrong those weeks. I’m analyzing it now, where not long ago I would have conveniently avoided and ignored it, only to repeat the same loop over and over indefinitely.
The biggest factor in my recovery prior to and after my short visit to hell a couple of weeks ago has been the return of my intellect, the thing I prided myself in most all my life. My constant thinking, I am now able to channel and guide into avenues that are of profound importance and use to me and to those around me, and though there’s a long way to go before I can optimize this process and stabilize it, I’m back. I’m back and better than ever.