When Your Mind Feels Like a Storm: Why You’re Not Imagining Things
We’ve all had moments where life feels like a carnival ride spinning out of control. You might lie awake at 3 a.m., replaying conversations, questioning your choices, or wondering, “Is it just me, or does everything feel… off?” When emotions crash like waves and logic seems to vanish, it’s easy to worry you’re losing your grip. But here’s the truth: that fear of “going crazy” is often a sign you’re deeply human—not broken. Let’s unpack why your feelings make sense and how to anchor yourself when the world feels shaky.
1. Your Brain Is Wired to Sound Alarms (Even False Ones)
Imagine your mind as a smoke detector. Its job is to keep you safe, so it’s hypersensitive to potential threats. But sometimes, it mistakes burnt toast for a five-alarm fire. Anxiety, intrusive thoughts, or sudden mood swings often stem from this survival mechanism kicking into overdrive.
For example, when stress hormones flood your system, your prefrontal cortex—the “logic center”—temporarily goes offline. This explains why, during arguments or panic attacks, you might struggle to think clearly or say things you later regret. It’s not a character flaw; it’s biology. Studies show that chronic stress physically alters brain regions tied to emotion regulation. In short, your reactions aren’t “crazy”—they’re your body’s way of trying to protect you.
2. The Myth of “Normal” and Why It Hurts
We’re raised to believe there’s a “right” way to feel or behave. Social media amplifies this, showcasing curated highlight reels of others’ lives while we’re stuck scrolling through our own messy realities. But “normal” is a myth. Everyone struggles—they just hide it better.
Consider this: Roughly 1 in 5 adults experiences mental health challenges yearly, yet many suffer silently, fearing judgment. When you dismiss your emotions as irrational (“I shouldn’t feel this way”), you’re gaslighting yourself. Pain—whether emotional or physical—isn’t a sign of weakness. If you broke your arm, you wouldn’t say, “I’m overreacting.” Mental distress deserves the same compassion.
3. The Power of Naming Your Experience
Language shapes reality. Ever noticed how saying “I’m anxious” out loud can lessen its grip? Suppressing emotions amplifies them; acknowledging them robs them of their power. Try reframing self-critical thoughts:
– Instead of: “I’m losing my mind,”
– Try: “My nervous system is overwhelmed, and I need rest.”
This isn’t semantics. It’s a subtle shift from shame (“Something’s wrong with me”) to curiosity (“What does this feeling need?”). Research shows that labeling emotions activates the prefrontal cortex, helping you regain control.
4. When to Trust Your Gut (and When to Question It)
Intuition is a compass—but it can malfunction under stress. For instance, trauma survivors often develop hypervigilance, interpreting neutral situations as dangerous. Similarly, someone with social anxiety might assume others are judging them harshly, even when evidence suggests otherwise.
Here’s a litmus test: Ask, “Is this fear based on a pattern or a one-off?” If you’ve repeatedly felt dismissed at work, your frustration might signal a real issue. But if a friend’s delayed text triggers a spiral about rejection, it’s likely your brain filling gaps with worst-case scenarios. Learning to differentiate takes practice, but it gets easier.
5. Rebuilding Trust in Yourself
Self-doubt often stems from past experiences where your feelings were minimized. Maybe a parent said, “Stop being dramatic,” or a doctor brushed off your symptoms. Over time, you internalize the message: “I can’t trust my own perceptions.”
Healing starts with small acts of self-advocacy:
– Keep a “validation journal” to document moments your instincts proved right.
– Practice “body scanning” to reconnect with physical cues (e.g., tension = unmet need).
– Share your feelings with a safe person who mirrors back empathy, not judgment.
6. You’re Not Alone—Even If It Feels That Way
Isolation fuels the “I’m crazy” narrative. But consider how many artists, writers, and innovators were deemed “eccentric” for seeing the world differently. Vulnerability connects us. When author Glennon Doyle confessed, “Life’s beauty is inseparable from its fragility,” millions felt seen. Your struggles aren’t a liability—they’re proof of your depth.
A Simple Anchor for Rough Days
Next time your mind races, try this grounding exercise:
1. Name 5 things you see. (“Blue mug, dusty lamp, wilting plant…”)
2. Name 4 things you hear. (“Clock ticking, distant traffic…”)
3. Name 3 things you feel. (“Fuzzy socks, cool air on my face…”)
4. Name 2 things you smell. (“Coffee, faint perfume…”)
5. Name 1 thing you taste. (“Mint from toothpaste.”)
This technique engages your senses, pulling you back to the present. It won’t “fix” everything, but it creates a pause—a reminder that you’re here, breathing, and capable of weathering this moment.
Final Thoughts: Your Mind Isn’t the Enemy
Questioning your sanity is often a sign of self-awareness, not instability. The parts of you that feel “too much”—the worry, the sensitivity, the longing for meaning—are also the parts capable of profound empathy and creativity. Healing isn’t about silencing those voices but learning to dialogue with them.
So, if today feels heavy, whisper this to yourself: “I’m not crazy. I’m human. And that’s okay.” The storm will pass. Until it does, you’ve already survived 100% of your worst days. That’s no small thing.
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