Recently I had a realization about the workings of my mind and the minds of my immediate loved ones: we need little problems/puzzles/quests to occupy our mental energy, so it doesn’t just get filled up by anxiety and sensory overload. (I’m guessing this is related to our neurodivergence.)
I already knew that I felt and functioned best when I had some kind of writing going on in my head (especially poems—with rhyme and meter!—on things I’m feeling and thinking about; hence my “Serenity Splash” poems). But recently this concept expanded into something bigger.
When we were on our vacation to Kure Beach a few weeks ago, my daughter (“Twin 2”) and I had a little debate going about which of two similar condo buildings was bigger. We finally counted the windows of each one and solved the question—and I noticed my brain felt a little sad, then, to not have that question to keep working on.
That was when I first began thinking about “mind quests.”
Later that evening, we ate out at a restaurant that she (Twin 2) didn’t particularly like, so I was trying to think of a way to help her get through it, and I remembered the “mind quest” idea. I asked her to help me make a list of all the different shades of blue we could think of. We made a long list while we waited for our food—even my husband joined in—and that helped us pass the time very enjoyably!
Then, on our way back home, I realized my husband had already figured out about “mind quests” (and surely was why I’d even thought to use the word “quest”): since we’d arrived at Kure Beach, he’d been playing a car game with them of giving them “quests” to find two beach houses of certain colors side by side (like “pink and blue”). They all loved it!
Also, throughout our trip, I had been noticing that having physical fidget toys in my hand helped me through tense moments, and having “mental fidgets”—such as a poem to work on—was the best of all.
I actually started writing my recent S.S. poem “toy” when we were there, on a day trip to Wilmington, NC, because I needed a poem to be working on and I was thinking about this concept (and watching my four-year-old keep her pocket-toy close):
I'm forty, and I'm thinking that my four-year-old has it right: she's always got a little toy in her hand, clutched tight, or in her pocket, where she knows she has a piece of joy, safe and close. She's teaching me to carry my own "toy."
❤️
With all those pieces put together, I felt I suddenly understood that we really need “mind quests”—things to think about and play with—as a coping strategy for dealing with life in an often-overwhelming world.
Since then—back home—I have been finding that literally carrying around a notebook (and pen), when I can, is excellent for my mental health/self-regulation. (The runner up is to carry around a book, followed by carrying around knitting.)
I’m excited to keep exploring this idea of mind quests, and I’m grateful to my kids and husband for helping me learn the power of keeping special-interest items and “mind quests” close and at-the-ready. ❤️
River Roundup
Section posts from the past week
📚Book Beach
bookish euphoria!!
🪷Serenity Splashes
on understanding myself in this world
My car may be muddy; my house may be messy; I may be forgetful, tardy, and busy; despite all my reading, I can be naiive; and I get overwhelmed, for my heart's on my sleeve-- but it is full of love-- that I can say-- and I'm doing my best in this strange world each day.
reflections on unmasking, mindfulness, and letting go of people-pleasing
"On it!" was my default mode-- perform, appease, endure, somehow. May I just be "in it"-- in the acuteness of my experience right now.
on the disaster in Nepal
I sit here in my office, with my notebook and some tea, working, tired, busy-- but across the globe from me, lives have just been shattered. Yet here I sit, so safe, with only my heart breaking. This world's a baffling place.
ego thinking vs. creature experiencing
My little mind thinks it's the manager of life, like my cat thinks he's my king. We're both just creatures, having feelings and chasing bits of string.
for my cycle-breaking friends
Sweet acorn, you fell from a twisted oak, and now you're growing tall-- but you worry you're not doing it well enough; you fret over every flaw. Yet here you are, standing on your own, growing ring by ring, and sheltering little creatures-- you look magical to me.
