Every brain is different. It really is beautiful, how our uniqueness extends to our physicality. Every brain has different creases, wrinkles, synapses, pathways, chemical make-up.
It is what makes us who we are. It is not the soul, not the body, not the mind or any of that. We are just gelatin. Flesh, and blood, and a long list of chemicals and hormones.
Minute differences in these lead to major differences in life.
For some, their chemical content is balanced- their synapses function as they are supposed to, neurotransmitters are produced, taken up, and recycled like a well-oiled machine.
They are happy, whatever happy means in this world. They can wake up each morning and believe that the key to success is a positive mindset. Others have... differences.
Whether it is not enough blood moving though the tissue of their brain, a wrinkle out of place, physical damage, or, simply, a chemical imbalance. They are different.
Maybe they are happy sometimes, whatever it means to be happy in this world, but often they are not. A positive mindset will not change this.
I don't know how "normal" I am. I don't know what creases or wrinkles make up my brain.
I don't know how my blood flows, or how the chemicals and neurotransmitters are balanced in there, or if they even are balanced. I don't think they are.
Or at least, 150 mg of a Zoloft generic begs to differ. I also don't think 150 mg of a Zoloft generic is enough. Or maybe it's me. My mother did always say I was lazy.
You take personality quizzes, you research personality types, you google identities and watch countless Psych2go videos on YouTube. All in an effort to understand yourself.
But can words ever truly explain what is happening inside our heads?
A plant cannot begin to understand why it moves toward the sun, so how can our brains begin to understand why they do what they do? Is it fruitless to map the brain?
Is that even knowledge our brains can handle?
I could bankrupt myself to see the best shrinks, or healers, or psychics, but I would never get an answer that satisfies me. Every brain is different.
Even similar symptoms in different people can lead to drastically different diagnoses. A lack of interest in life is a symptom of depression and of schizophrenia.
Is my lack of interest in existence a symptom of a need of a change of scenery, depression, anxiety, or schizophrenia?
I've been diagnosed with three of those, though I admit to self-diagnosing the need for change.
I don't know what I need. I don't know what I want. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know when it started. I don't know when it will end. I don't know if it will ever end.
I know that I do not have it as bad as others. Everyone on this planet can say that. There is always going to be someone with a worse life.
It is a constant battle within ourselves between whether to ask for help or continue on, since someone else could use that help more than us,
and maybe make more of themselves with that help than us.
I don't think I deserve help. I don't think I could ever let anyone in enough to help. I don't think anyone would ever care enough to help. I don't know what to do.