My Brain and Me
I do have a brain, but I’m not sure of what use it has been so far. I think it’s not been a very successful brain and I kind of feel sorry for it. It’s up here working away, but I’m somewhat disappointed at the results. It hasn’t made me rich, it hasn’t created anything exceptional, and it’s sometimes confused as to what action it should take next, and it hasn’t helped me much sorting out relationships with other brains.
It has its likes, but most of those that it enjoys are useless endeavors. It likes cats, it likes clouds, it likes absurdities, it likes car racing, it likes listening to music, it likes idleness, it likes daydreaming…umm…yeah…all the stuff it likes best doesn’t really do me much good in life. There are also a lot of things it doesn’t like. Mostly all the things it doesn’t like are the things that would make me a success in some occupation, for example.
The result is, I feel rather let down by my brain. I think it’s a little at times crazy, too. I think mainly it never grew up. By this I mean it was damaged when it was very young. It had a really traumatic experience when it was about six or seven years old. Actually, this distress was going on before that, building up to some climax. I’m not sure exactly when this event happened because it can’t remember it. All I know is, I can remember first and part of second grade in school, then there’s a blank.
See. sometime in second grade I had to take about a year off to recuperate. I think I was in some sort of hospital for a while, but I’m not sure. This used to be called a nervous breakdown in those days. I don’t know what it’s called now. My brother who was four years older than I had the same problem earlier.
Later, sometimes my mother would ask me, “Remember when you were sick?” I’d shake my head “No”, and she would have a very troubled expression on her face and it seemed to me a tear in her eye. Then the subject would be closed.
I never had the courage to ask my mother just what happened and what mental state I was in at the time. I actually know what the cause was, though. There was a tyrant in the family.
As a child I was always very afraid of my father. I didn’t want anything to do with him and always avoided his presence. This worked both ways, because he never wanted anything to do with me, either. In fact, as I was growing up, my father never spoke to me. I don’t think he ever said a complete sentence to me until I was well into my twenties.
I’m not sure why he had this attitude toward me. Maybe he didn’t like kids, maybe he didn’t think I was good enough as a son, maybe after my event he felt guilty. Then again maybe he was blameless, and it was I who couldn’t cope.
In any event I wasn’t too unhappy about all this, except when I observed my friend’s fathers interacting with them. I do remember as a child crying sometimes, saying to myself, “My daddy doesn’t love me.” That did hurt, especially because I knew it was true.
So, I think this experience damaged my brain. Although I’m a little miffed at its incompetence, I also feel a little sorry for it. It’s had to go through this unfortunate experience and somehow manage to survive it somehow.
All in all, I think it did a pretty good job, because I’m not seriously crazy. Maybe I should thank it for that. I think I’m sort of schizophrenic-like sometimes, though, in that at times I have to fight off self-damaging thoughts. I’m also slightly sociopathic. I was very shy as a child, I hardly ever spoke and don’t remember having any friends until I was maybe twelve years old. I likely transferred my fear of my father to fear of all people. Strangers always were slightly “the enemy” to me.
A Monty Python character use to say, “My brain hurts!” I know how he felt. My brain has physically hurt on occasion in the past, as if being in dire conflict with itself. Now I don’t pay too much attention to my brain’s problems. I think soothing thoughts to it and try to relax it when it starts to reflect on its own various shortcomings and injuries.
I want to make my brain my friend. It’s not always willing to comply, but perhaps if I show enough kindness and understanding to it, one day my brain and I may learn to live in harmony together, and at last both know some peace and serenity.