Brain Chemistry Chronicles: February 2013

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Fear of the Middle

Lately I've been thinking about why I have trouble finishing projects. It's a funny kind of blockage, I guess. It presents differently with different projects, but the end result is the same: unfinished projects.

I have started many projects: quilts, reading, exercise, learning to speak Spanish or French, learning various computer programs like Excel, Word, Publisher, HTML; learning Physics or Math or some of the other subjects that I have on my lecture DVDs. Then there's crocheting or model building, but probably the greatest stall is writing. And even in this there are variations: fiction, screenwriting, non-fiction, poetry, oral history, autobiography.

I like starting new projects. I like buying all the gear I'll need for those projects. But somewhere down the road to completion, I stall. My beginning efforts look good, sound good, read well, etc. But when I have to keep plugging away, for some reason I avoid it. Then after a while I start something else.

Obviously, there is a psychological boost from starting something--the hope of a new adventure, I guess. But what causes the bogging down half way through? That I'm not too sure of, but I want to get to the bottom of it.

I know a lot of people suffer from this particular malady, and I also know it's got something to do with brain chemistry, so that's why I'm writing about it here.

It's a kind of fear--I know that much, anyway. Where does it come from, though, and how to fix it? Those are the big questions.

Where does it come from? Well, it comes from my brain, of course, but why? How to explain my brain's apparently irrational response to the requirements of the middle?

If I look at it from the point of view of the primitive human, maybe I'll think of something. Does my primitive brain fear the middle for some reason? Hmmmm.

Let's say the beginning represents the quest for food. Out on the hunt, you might say, looking for a new source of sustenance--berries, let's say. The hunter's walking along, fairly close to home, finding berries and gathering them, excited to find so many, maybe eating some of them, not noticing how far afield she is going. But then the supply of berries begins to peter out and eventually the berries are no longer there and she must stop and look around her. She's gone too far; she doesn't know where she is any longer. She's alone and possibly in danger because now she's in unfamiliar territory far from fellow humans and--she fears--close to predators. So she hightails it for home and safety, retracing her steps, and no doubt, eating all the berries she's gathered in the process.

That fear of being in unfamiliar territory, where there are no longer any rewards and possibly punishments on the horizon--could that be what's behind the fear of the middle? Maybe. Maybe.

About this blog . . .

I created this blog as a place to write about my day to day struggles with what I call bad brain chemistry. In discussing those struggles, I also share my theories about bad brain chemistry and how its effects can be mitigated.

I started this project about 20 years ago, when depression and other bad moods were making my life miserable. A man I met during that time (now my husband) convinced me that I had to change; a therapist who offered medication scared me into finding a way to change. The result was my theory of brain chemistry, which goes beyond merely labeling mood disorders as physical phenomena and finding medication to fix them. I seek to explain bad brain chemistry in a way that shows the disorder to be rational and naturally human, and dealing with it something that a human can do through rational thought.

As I go along with this blog, I'll talk more about this theory and how I think people who have this condition tend to deal with it.

You're welcome to join me!

My Theory of Bad Brain Chemistry, Part I

My theories are based on how my mind works, but I think that I'm not alone, that other people share this problem with brain chemistry that doesn't work well in the modern world. My idea is that the way my brain works was advantageous at some point in the history of humanity. People like me, hyperalert people, were useful to human society because they were extremely aware of their environment.

In a situation where people are in constant danger of being devoured by predators, or attacked by human enemies, those who are hyperalert make good scouts, good watchers, good guards. Also useful to people who must hunt for food every day in order to eat are those who are good at seeing animal prey, noticing and remembering their patterns, their behavior, their defenses, their smell. And those who know how to find edible plants or other important items such as reeds or flints or underground sources of water will also be valued by their group.

Unfortunately, in modern society (especially middle class Western society), there's less need for hyperalert people because there's less danger from predators. And there's very little need to hunt down food or water or tools in one's surroundings--we can simply go to a store to get all those things, or even better, have them brought to us.

In this situation, being hyperalert is not only no longer an advantage; it seems instead a disadvantage. In fact, it's often thought of as a disability instead of a highly valued ability. I have only to cite the disruptive effect of hyperalertness on the modern elementary classroom to make my point. What has been termed ADD--attention deficit disorder--is to me hyperalertness, a condition of the brain that is not so much an inability to pay attention, as it is an inability to stop paying attention.

And it is this condition of hyperalertness, I believe, that can lead to depression, anger and other moods that make life quite difficult for many people, including me. What was once good brain chemistry is now deemed bad and in need of fixing.