Buzz, Buzz: When Your Brain Won’t Shut Up

Have you ever felt like your brain is a relentless swarm of “what ifs” and worst-case scenarios? Like your mind is a chaotic mess of thoughts that refuse to let you breathe? Yeah. Me too. And let me tell you, it’s exhausting. I am exhausted!

Recently, in therapy, I described it as feeling like a bee trapped in a bottle. Smacking into the glass walls over and over, wings frantically buzzing, desperate for a way out. The irony? The lid is probably off. The exit is there, but I’m so consumed by the chaos and negative thoughts that I can’t see it. I don’t want to be in this damn bottle. I want to let go of the constant noise, the spiralling thoughts, the suffocating anxiety. So why can’t I just fly out? Million Dollar Question.

Ruminating thoughts don’t go quietly, do they? They cling, whispering doubts in your ear, convince you that every worst-case scenario is not only possible but probable. I was texting my cousin the other day, about all this chaos and doubt. She said “You are on top of the tornado girl, bundle up and get outside and go for a walk. You need fresh air!” I’ve been stuck in my house since Feb 16^th with Pneumonia or RSV, or something … hoping to find out soon, but being stuck inside, forced to rest, as someone with a vveerrryyy colourful mind, is torture. Suddenly, I am drowning in an ocean of self-doubt and overthinking, gasping for a moment of peace.

Here’s the thing: that peace? It’s not found by thinking your way out of the spiral. Trust me, I’ve tried. The key is in noticing when you’re smacking into the same damn walls and realizing—you don’t have to. You can pause. Breathe. Stop fighting against the glass. But just ‘resting’ and sit in the uncomfortability … seems so stupid to me. I want it fixed, and I want it fixed now. I want to move forward and stop thinking about things from 6 months ago, or 10 years ago. Those thoughts can go away now k thnx!

Rest and sitting with discomfort, it is easier said than done. But maybe it starts with small shifts:

✨ Grounding yourself in the present and what you know to be true (if that’s possible)—because 99% of the time, the reality is way less terrifying than your brain makes it out to be. I’ve tried a lot of different grounding exercises, box breathing, feet in the dirt or grass, holding ice, meditation, but some reason, when I am stuck in dysregulation, I go back to being a child and I forget all the things and tools I’ve learned!

✨ Reminding yourself that not every thought is a fact. Just because your brain screams “DISASTER” doesn’t mean it’s true. This is a tricky one for me because as someone with insane anxiety, I feel like I need to plan for the worst so that I can be prepared. But the truth is … nothing will prepare you. It will just continue to rob you of your joy.

✨ And maybe it is recognizing that you deserve to be free of the bottle. You deserve to be free of the wild brain.

I’m still learning to let go. To trust that I don’t have to keep buzzing in panic mode. But, if you’ve never truly felt trust, it makes sense why it feels impossible. Maybe for you, trust has always had conditions, strings attached or been something you had to earn the hard way. And now people expect you to just have it? Trust. Apparently, it’s supposed to be this beautiful, freeing thing. A leap of faith. A surrender. A belief that things will work out, that people won’t let you down, that life isn’t just waiting to pull the rug out from under you. Yeah, okay. Sounds fake, but go off.

To me, trust has always felt like walking a tightrope with no safety net, knowing damn well that one wrong move means crashing hard. But people say, “You just have to trust.” Oh? Do I? Like it’s as easy as deciding to like pineapple on pizza (which, by the way, is an abomination).

Maybe trust isn’t actually about blind leaps. Maybe it’s about small steps. Testing the ground. Letting yourself believe, just for a second, that maybe things won’t implode. That maybe you won’t always be bracing for impact. That maybe not everyone is waiting to let you down. Trust is something that takes time.

And maybe—just maybe—trust is less about believing in others and more about believing in yourself. That no matter what happens, you will figure it out. You will catch yourself.

I’m not there yet. But I’m learning. And if you’ve never felt trust before? Maybe we start with something small. A toe over the edge instead of a leap. A deep breath instead of a dive. Or maybe trust is stupid, and we’re all just pretending it makes sense. But I am really hoping that trust = freedom!