It’s around 10pm, I’m trying to settle into my bedroom with a small plate that holds a large slice of carrot cake, a warm cup of tea, and the book I’m supposed to have read entirely over the next 48 hours before my book club meets to discuss it. My spouse is in bed next to me falling asleep with an eye mask on to block the light I’m using to read. But I’m not reading. I’m playing keep-away with one of my cats who is alternating between trying to get some of the other cat’s food that is up on a table nearby and trying to get some of my carrot cake on the bed. He literally just ate his nightly crunchies, but apparently it did not suffice.
I realize I want to find a highlighter before I start reading, but they are in the other room. I pick up my cat and carry him with me to find some highlighters because he is not to be trusted unattended with any of the things he’s trying to eat. I leave my cat in the room where I grabbed the highlighters noticing my other cat is out on a chair. (I hope they can cross paths without conflict. It’s really 50/50.) I settle back into the bedroom, try to find a good position to eat, drink, and read. My cat has returned (without conflict, so it is possible!) and jumped up trying to obtain a taste of something. I give up on staying in the bedroom before I even start, but now there’s the logistics of moving all of these things into another room.
It’s like the “wolf, goat and cabbage problem” where I can’t leave my cat with the carrot cake, and I can’t leave my cat with the other cat’s special food. That leaves my teacup with my cat while I carry two bowls of cat food stacked in one hand (wet on top of dry) and my carrot cake plate in the other while I try to exit the bedroom and close doors behind me to keep my one cat inside with my spouse. But then the carrot cake is in the room with my other cat who is on a very strict diet and unfortunately is not allowed even the smallest lick of cream cheese, much to his dismay. I drop off the food and book it back to the bedroom to grab my tea (it is a cup on a matching plate), my book, my highlighters, and a couple other things.
Once I’m out in my other room, I settle into a chair at my desk, to at the very least eat cake and drink tea. But the other cat has decided that he doesn’t want to eat his food. He wants to eat my carrot cake. He is crawling all over me, the chair, and the desk trying to get at my plate. I am lifting it up high above his head to move it out of reach when my fork (full of cake) flies off. The fork lands on the floor, but somehow the portion of cake that was on the fork falls directly into the full trash can nearby. I say to my cat, “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to scream.” In response, he settles into my lap.
This is the moment that I realized I am overstimulated. My cats are just being cats, but my response to them is annoyance, even though I love and cherish them tremendously. I think to myself that I am grateful I don’t have small children around because if I can’t even handle my cats right now, there’s no way I could handle kids. (How do people do that? Oh wait, I remember some people don’t do that very well either, even when they are parents.) I should be grateful that my cats are healthy enough and in such good spirits that they are attempting to join me in eating carrot cake (it’s really the cream cheese frosting driving this desire). I should be happy that a cat is in my lap.
I try to recenter myself with a deep breath. I’m “allowing myself to feel what I’m feeling” in this moment of overstimulation. But while the cats are the trigger for this recognition of overstimulation, they are not the actual cause of it. There have been plenty of days when a similar series of events happened in my home without me feeling like this. Sometimes it is even amusing, and I laugh about it. Right now, I’m scared to sit with my feelings and explore why I’m overstimulated. There are so many awful things happening in the world currently that if I start to really name them all, I may never stop.
There are a lot people out there already doing such good work to write, record, share, and store a running log of current events -- both good and bad. With the influx of concerning events happening recently, it is tempting to sit down and write about each and every one. I don’t have the bandwidth (or the desire) to become one of those people who “reacts” to current events in real time because I don’t want to feel compelled to share my thoughts on the kind of timeline that creates a sense of urgency in my writing/life. This is not shade towards those people, as I believe their reactions are a necessary part of the social conversation and can contribute to the cultural shifts needed for humankind to grow.
I will probably never write posts here that are live or up-to-the-minute breaking fare, as part of my approach to writing is allowing some space to build up for me to fully process what happened and how I feel about it. I think I’ve been avoiding writing lately because I’m avoiding thinking about the causes of my overstimulation. Or am I overstimulated because I haven’t been writing lately, as the writing forces me to think about the things I’m trying to ignore.
I’m definitely not succeeding in ignoring stressful things (if that was even really my intent) as I am still online every single day absorbing the play-by-play. I am still thinking about it almost constantly. I know that the sheer amount of awfulness in the last month or so has been an intentional onslaught meant to overwhelm us. In that regard, I feel as though they have been successful. I’m overwhelmed.
Those around me are overwhelmed too. People in my circles are sick. Even the ones who aren’t sick are taking longer to reply to messages, if I get a response at all. There are other signs as well. Some people have leaned into consumption as a coping mechanism, starting new hobbies and buying new things. Some people have turned to alcohol/drugs, both people who have coped like that in the past and people who are dipping their toes into the water for the first time. Some people have keyed into their five-year plan to try to have something to look forward to, under the assumption that the current terrors will be over by then.
Personally, I think that unless something starts drastically changing, things are going to be far worse at that point. But I only usually admit that with people who aren’t on a downward spiral and/or seem as though their mental health can handle that potentiality. How can I write about what I’m feeling, what I believe is going to happen, and what we should be doing to try to help if no one has the bandwidth to even read it? But then I remember that I don’t actually write for others; I write for myself. I share what I write in the hopes it will help others, but their presence, approval, or lack thereof is not necessary for my writing.
The past couple of weeks I’ve been too “in my head” about things. I’ve been letting myself take in all the awfulness without allowing myself an outlet to release it. That’s what writing does for me. It helps me process what’s happening and how I’m feeling. In order to choose the words I want to say, I first have to determine what it is I’m thinking and how I want to convey it to others. Sharing what I write can sometimes feel like screaming into the void, but other times, when people like, comment, subscribe, and/or follow, it helps me feel like I am actually connecting with others through my words.
Just writing this helped me to feel a little bit less alone with all the scariness surrounding us. The realization that other people are just as overwhelmed as I am currently doesn’t make me feel good, but it does help me to remember that I am not in this by myself. There are others who think like I do, feel like I do, and want to take action to change what we can when and where we can. Most of you probably didn’t even notice that I didn’t write or publish anything here for two weeks in a row because we are constantly inundated with so much. I felt guilty for not sharing anything in that time-frame, but I didn’t have it in me.
I feel a bit better now that I’ve taken the time to write this out. My cats both settled into different areas to sleep away from me and my tea and my cake. I drank all my vanilla Comoro tea and ate my carrot cake while I wrote this. I’m feeling less overstimulated, and I am proud of myself for putting words on the page again.
Even though I know that writing is necessary in my life, it can still be hard to get back into it after a break. If you’ve been unable to participate in your usual outlet, just be gentle with yourself as you try to start again. We all need something to help us release our emotions in a way that doesn’t harm ourselves and others, and I hope you have something that works for you.
~The Overstimulated
P.S. Let me know in the comments what outlet is helping you!
