One recent night, I wrote this in my journal: "My thoughts are spinning something that will keep me warm or smother me."
Racing thoughts often feel that way--good and bad potential. They can seem exciting and beautiful like golden sparks the sun gives to the pond outside my apartment. But they can often burn my brain, and I don't know what to expect.
Memories, especially mortifying ones, mingle with what-ifs. Some thoughts are like fragments of nightmares...as thought I'm in a terrifying haunted house and must find my own way out. Until I find that way out, that self-destructive part of my mind keeps working against itself and scaring me.
But sometimes, racing thoughts can be warm and sparkling, delivering delightful possibilities--hypothetical journeys and visits, a lovely future for Oliver, brighter versions of sweet memories.
I'm thankful that racing thoughts are the only mania symptom I have right now. Sometimes, my imagination can create such beauty; my mind throws it at me all at once. I just need a better filing system.
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