Healing takes guts. It’s not passive—it’s a choice we make over and over, even on the heavy days.
When the spicy brain is spicy, it ceases to create. It does what it must, but what it wants to do feels impossible. Simple tasks become overwhelming. The things we normally delight in are just... too much. Napping becomes critical. The more time asleep, the less time we have to partake in life. Eating—either it has little appeal, and we eat because we must, or we crave the most off-the-wall unhealthy food, often in large quantities. Food never actually fills the void or cures the depression, but it can help make you tired enough for another nap.
Sometimes we know why the brain is spicy. Other times it's a surprise gift. Like, "Hey, that dopamine you need to be happy? It’s on vacation. Better queue up that playlist." Either way, music is a lifeline—in the best of times, and especially the worst.
The spicy brain—my affectionate term for when the mind is inflamed with depression, anxiety, or burnout—tends to flare up when we’re stretched too thin or stuck too long. It’s sharp, chaotic, and not always predictable. It doesn't respond to logic. It demands softness, time, and patience that we often forget to give ourselves.
Burnout can lead to depression. I think with all the dryer repairs, life changes, and a mix of frustration and despair, my dopamine just left the chat. I was drained—and instead of fighting it, I pitched a tent and set up camp. That’s not to say the last two months have been all bad. I phased in and out of this funk. I had moments of joy. We had a good vacation. But this past weekend, I hit my all-time low.
Shelby had D&D Sunday morning, so it was just the dog and me. I usually don’t like to kennel her, but today was different. I felt the need to get out of my funk. The urge to deviate from my same-shit-different-day routine was strong. I met up for coffee with a friend I haven’t seen in forever. It was nice to drink some caffeine, munch on a breakfast sandwich, and be out of the house. The conversation was good. The time was well spent. I headed home and let Rain out. I felt a glimmer of that old desire—to do all the things. Then Rain and I took a nap together, and I was back in the camp of drained.
Jeff has been hosting monthly get-togethers. I have not been attending. Life has a way of getting in the way. Or do we have a way of letting it? I tend to isolate when I feel down. I withdraw into myself, do what I must, and let what I want to do overwhelm me. It is familiar—and familiar, even when it’s bad, can be comforting. So sometimes I let myself make the excuses I need to so I can keep feeling the way I do. And you know anxiety—sometimes that pitches in and lets things fester as well.
One of my friends, who I haven’t seen in years, reached out and asked if I was attending. I was watching Buffy on TV and scrolling DoorDash—not that I financially have DoorDash money, but depression doesn’t fully respect finances. I told him I was in bed, depressed, and didn’t see myself making it to the event. So he called. Then all my other friends messaged. So I got up. They were happy to let me take Rain to the event, and that eased some anxiety and guilt over kenneling her a second time that day.
These events feature a selected kind of alcohol to be shared. I hardly drink anymore. My replacement bottle of whisky has sat untouched for about three months now. So I attended, but I remained sober. It was an experience. New faces. New conversations. Rain got to meet a cat. I can't say it was a life-changing experience going out. But it was good for me. It was really touching that people reached out and genuinely wanted me to come see them. Sometimes depression takes our belief that we are wanted.
That night, Shelby and I talked about my depression—something I don’t normally bring up. Because I feel like a burden when I express things like that. But talking about it did ease some of the weight. Depression is often complex. But if we search long enough, it’s usually possible to find the root of the storm and then manage it.
I used to get a horrible crash after large group gatherings or events that took a lot of time and planning. It would leave me feeling lower than low. But eventually, I learned the pattern, named it "people crash," and was able to guide myself out of those events quicker and smoother than before.
I live life unmedicated. Not everyone can or should. It’s often advisable to talk to a therapist or medical professional about depression if it persists. I am thankful for my partner and my friends. I am on the uphill climb again, and I look forward to getting back to creating, living, and dreaming.
It’s time to create again. Even if the brain’s still spicy.
Bishop :(:
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