Your Brain Isn’t Supposed to be a War Zone

Your brain isn’t supposed to feel like a war zone. And I know what you’re thinking, “..uh yeah, obviously it’s not?” The phrase war zone can seem like a stretch. But to me, and to many others, the phrase war zone is exactly what it feels like.

East Ridge Elementary school, you hold the dearest memories in my heart. But also a reminder of the hurt I felt when I realized I wasn’t like my peers. I was in the 4th grade when I was first confronted about my brain. It was parent-teacher conferences. I’ll admit, I was oblivious to what my teachers were going to say, all I could think about was how excited I was for my mom and dad to come into my classroom. I wanted to show off my artwork I had made that was hanging up in the hallway, I wanted them to read the stories that I had written. Also, not to brag, but I was really proud of my last spelling bee test. I was the only student that spelled “aquarium” correctly, and I couldn’t wait to show it off to them.

My parents and I sat down at the table, and my face felt hot with the pressure of my 2 separate authorities in my life sitting face to face with each other, going to talk about me for the next 30 minutes. My excitement drained from my body when my teachers looked at each other and scoffed, saying to one another, “do you want to say it, or do you want me to?’

“Ellie doesn’t pay attention in class. We will give instructions to the class, and Ellie wont understand what to do. She will just sit there in her ‘own world’ until we have to get after her. She walks up to my desk to clarify instructions multiple times on simple tasks. Even when we hand out times-table sheets, she sits there, looking at the page while the other students are almost done.”

These words have been engrained into my brain since I was 9 years old. I remember it so well that I remember what clothes I was wearing, what my teachers hair style was, what color my moms nails were. Im 22 now.

Growing up, I always had a reoccurring thought that I was a little different than my friends and other students at my school. I had no motivation to go to school, go to class, or do my homework. My backpack could be sitting right next to me, but the thought of opening it up and pulling my books out was something my brain just couldn’t do. Waking up in the morning to go to school always felt like I was being tormented. Things that were supposed to be easy, were so hard for me. My brain couldn’t do a lot of things. I was incredibly sensitive, even sad movies would set me off and make me emotional for days. I couldn’t keep a friendship, I was irritable, sensitive, closed off and got my feelings hurt over minor things. I was always so jealous of the girls I went to school with. They always seemed like they had things figured out. Everything always seemed so easy for them, everything came so naturally. I was jealous of the people that could go to sports practice without having to mentally prepare for 3 hours. I was jealous of the people involved in ASB or other school activities, because the thought of committing to something would make my brain spiral. I would cry to my mom because I just wanted to be “normal”.

I was in the 10th grade when I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and ADHD. Everything I had been feeling my whole life finally had a name for it. It felt validating that yes, my brain actually couldn’t do it. It was a lack of brain chemicals, not a lack of intelligence. It was a lack of serotonin, not a lack of strength. It wasn’t “being crazy”, it was intrusive thoughts.

I’ve tried to explain what it feels like to not be able to think about what you need to do, and only being able to think about how you feel. It’s like a road block. You cant go around it, and you can’t turn around, so you just stop- right there. My brain stops, my brain just can’t do it. It’s looking for your keys for 15 minutes, and when you ask for help finding it- they were sitting on the counter right infront of you the whole time. My family jokes that I look for things with my eyes closed, when in reality- my brain cant do it. It’s having a friend force you to write that essay that was due 4 days ago, but your brain couldn’t do it. Its putting off sending an email to your academic advisor until registration is already over, because for some reason, your brain just CAN’T DO IT!!

It’s like a war zone. Everyday my head is fighting two wars at the same time. A constant back and forth of yes and no’s, goods and bads. From the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. One side of the war is a lie. A lie of negativity, doubt, overthinking, insecurities, sensitivity. To be transparent, there’s a lot of days where that war wins. This war keeps me in bed until 2 pm, this war tells me “I can’t do it.” The other side of the war is how it feels when the sun shines and your favorite artist just dropped a new album. It’s freedom, it’s peaceful, it’s knowing that your brain lies to you- and you have to make the choice to see the truth. It’s like the airplane touching down to start the vacation you’ve been looking forward to for months. Its like cleaning the filth of your glasses and being able to see clearly for the first time, not realizing your eyes had adjusted to looking through the grime on the lenses.

My parents are incredibly understanding when it comes to mental health. Something that I will never take for granted, and something I can never thank them enough for. My dad even making comments that our families genetics could be studied in textbooks. Depression, anxiety, ADHD/ADD, addiction, bipolar disorder- its like a gene pool of added spice. With a family history of severe mental health, suicide, psych ward admittance, therapy appointments, pharmacy refills- you’d would think the war would win. But it doesn’t, and it wont. The greatest gift is the ability to not shy away from our feelings, and to talk about them so openly to one another. To know that if one of us needs help, its right around the corner.

Your brain isn’t supposed to feel like a war zone. But to a lot of us, it does. Healing and growth isn’t a linear process. Some days it feels like the war in your head wins. And that’s okay. It’s okay to take time for yourself and give your self space to get back on track. I often get stuck thinking about what my potential could be if I didn’t have a list of diagnosis’s. But as I’ve grown, I’ve learned that my potential isn’t going anywhere. I still have potential to accomplish amazing things, regardless of what’s going on in my head. Yes, due to my circumstances, I might have to work a little harder and approach things a little differently than others- but I can still do it. And I will do it. I have been a victim of comparison my entire life, wondering why my brain couldn’t be like my friends. It’s taken me a lifetime to learn that I was blessed with this brain. This home inside my skull is mine, and I can do amazing things that other people cant. I can excel in areas that the people I used to be jealous of wouldn’t even try to accomplish. Ive learned that it’s just life. You’re never going to meet 2 brains that are same. It’s a beautiful thing to feel so deeply, even if the thoughts don’t always feel beautiful. I’ve come to learn that it’s just you in your head, 24/7 for your whole life, so you might as well make it a beautiful place. Even if you’re going to have to fight the wars.

Be strong. Ask for help.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255

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