Thursday, October 31, 2013
When someone comes over to my computer and rather than sitting down to drive it themselves, they verbally direct me where to go and what to type. There's nothing wrong with this. It's actually really nice when you need help with something. But for some reason, for some godforsaken reason, this particular situation sends me spiraling into a black hole vortex of insecurity. I forget everything I’ve ever learned in life and all of my precious cranial resources are now solely directed at behaving like a normal human being. No longer able to process simple requests, my own internal dialog is now the only thing I can interact with.
2. Neural pathways shut down.
3. No longer in control of anything my body does.
Today I was sitting at my computer when two friendly coworkers came over to my desk asking if I could show them my process.
I usually start off pretty optimistic. I’m fully aware that I’m about to enter a situation that will probably cause me extreme anxiety, yet I still give myself a figurative high five and think “Don’t worry, Brain! We got this! That thing that happens to us will probably, most definitely, NOT happen this time!”
But then it does happen. It did happen. She asked me to type in a colon. A colon. Children in third world countries without computers know what a colon is. But for some reason, for me, this task was impossible for my brain to comprehend. Reality became overpowered by an irrational, urgent inner voice;
What is a colon? The organ? No, the punctuation. Holy crap, why can’t I remember what a colon is? What does it even look like? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? SHE'S WAITING FOR YOU TO TYPE A COLON, SHE'S GOING TO THINK YOU'RE COMPLETELY STUPID! BRAIN, RESPOND TO ME! WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Finally, I respond out loud:
“WHAT IS COLON."