“Are you under any stress?” my therapist asked.
“Heck no, Everything’s wonder––. Wait. Yes.” I slumped into the couch. “A friend bought ten copies of my book. Another bought five. They’re promoting it. Writing reviews that are really moving. It’s stressing me out. I can’t think. Sometimes I go blank.”
“Positive affect disorder,” he said. (Or maybe it was positive affect deregulation. Or positive affect dehydration.) “Negative comes in at a different voltage than positive. You’re wired for negative. Too much good short-circuits your system.”
I perked up. My brain loved to learn new things about itself. Positive affect discombobulation. Words offer answers, entertainment that distracts my mind from the truth of its irrelevance.
But tissues buried deep within my body relaxed, as electrical currents switched pathways. Muscles eased their grip around the goal of creating a perfect Dawn. Rewiring of the system had already begun.
I will probably still balk when the good stuff lands in front of me. You might have occasion to rush toward me with outspread arms. You might have occasion to exclaim, “What a magnificent achievement.” (And I certainly hope you will.) If that scenario plays out between us, please don’t be alarmed if my eyes glaze over. Or my speech slurs. Or my dreadlocks whip around my head like live wires. All indications of a short circuit.
Watch out for sparks, and talk about the weather until the power is restored.
“Heck no, Everything’s wonder––. Wait. Yes.” I slumped into the couch. “A friend bought ten copies of my book. Another bought five. They’re promoting it. Writing reviews that are really moving. It’s stressing me out. I can’t think. Sometimes I go blank.”
“Positive affect disorder,” he said. (Or maybe it was positive affect deregulation. Or positive affect dehydration.) “Negative comes in at a different voltage than positive. You’re wired for negative. Too much good short-circuits your system.”
I perked up. My brain loved to learn new things about itself. Positive affect discombobulation. Words offer answers, entertainment that distracts my mind from the truth of its irrelevance.
But tissues buried deep within my body relaxed, as electrical currents switched pathways. Muscles eased their grip around the goal of creating a perfect Dawn. Rewiring of the system had already begun.
I will probably still balk when the good stuff lands in front of me. You might have occasion to rush toward me with outspread arms. You might have occasion to exclaim, “What a magnificent achievement.” (And I certainly hope you will.) If that scenario plays out between us, please don’t be alarmed if my eyes glaze over. Or my speech slurs. Or my dreadlocks whip around my head like live wires. All indications of a short circuit.
Watch out for sparks, and talk about the weather until the power is restored.