My dumb anxious brain wakes me at 4AM worrying about the schedule for a school event that will take place three weeks from now. I tell my brain to go back to sleep. Instead, it drafts an email to the person in charge of the event, wanting details. I tell my brain that I do not keep my phone or laptop next to the bed for this very reason, to prevent me emailing people in the middle of the night. My brain does not care. It has a writer’s high, editing and polishing each word of this unimportant missive until I fall back asleep and it becomes part of my dreams.

My dumb anxious brain gets a 7-minute commute without my kids before arriving at work where there are hundreds of other people’s kids. Instead of enjoying the silence, or maybe listening to a podcast, my dumb anxious brain figures out how to squeeze every second out of the day to optimize my work. This is what my brain does during quiet moments.

My dumb anxious brain keeps processing in the background while I teach. It’s a waiting valet, holding everything for me until the very moment things relax again. “Here are your worries,” my brain says, handing me a giant ream of paper. “I know you were missing them while you were doing your job. And here–” my dumb anxious brain valet places a list on top– “here’s what you must do next to maintain your schedule, honor all your commitments, and achieve your organized life.”

I’m feeling a little burned out this week, folks. How about you?

This seemed an apt image for this post.