Things My Brain Thinks Are the Same Thing, Even Though They Aren’t
There are two types of people in the world:
Those who think through decisions with logic and calm reason.
And those of us whose brains casually short-circuit daily and connect dots that absolutely should not be connected.
Guess which one I am?
Welcome to the inside of my brain, where sending an email feels like a personal betrayal, and running errands is equivalent to moving out of the country.
Let’s begin.
Emails = Emotional Exposure
Image Credit: Midjourney AI
My brain: “Just write the email.”
Also my brain: “No. We’re revealing too much. We’re being perceived. We will spiral for 3 hours over whether ‘Hope this helps!’ sounded passive-aggressive.”
Sometimes I write an email, reread it 7 times, and then delete it and decide to suffer in silence. Because apparently my brain thinks “Reply All” is the same as live-streaming a TED Talk about my weaknesses.
Asking for Help = Public Humiliation
I’m not reaching out. I’m not saying I need anything.
Because somewhere along the way, my brain decided that asking for help is the same as announcing to the world that I’ve failed at life.
Doesn’t matter if it’s about needing more time, borrowing a charger, or figuring out how to turn on the coffee machine.
“You’re capable.”
“You can Google it.”
“Let’s suffer quietly like a strong, silent warrior with caffeine withdrawal.”
Thanks, brain. You’re toxic.
Going to the Post Office = Filing for Bankruptcy
It’s just a quick errand.
But no—it feels like an administrative boss battle.
There’s a form. There's a line. There's a tiny pen on a weird chain. And if the package is international? I black out.
Why does my brain treat it like I’m signing over my assets?
Also, the moment I make it to the front of the line, I forget everything. My name? The address? My entire life purpose? Gone.
Image Credit: Midjourney AI
Group Texts = Jury Duty
Someone adds you. Someone says “LOL.” Then… silence.
And yet… you have to respond. Because if you don’t, your brain will convince you that you’re being watched. Judged. Exiled from the friend group you weren’t even participating in.
And once you send your “haha same,” it’s too late. You’re a part of the group forever. Even though no one speaks. Just vibes. And occasional Minion memes from your aunt.
Making Appointments = A Public Event
I know it’s not a big deal. I know people do it all the time.
But something about calling to make an appointment sends my soul straight into “witness protection” mode.
I get sweaty. I rehearse my script like it’s opening night on Broadway.
“Hi yes, I’d like to schedule an appointment please thank you yes hello okay bye.”
Then I immediately forget the time they gave me and have to call again. Shame spiral: unlocked.
Meeting New People = Being Auditioned for a Role I Didn’t Apply For
“Just be yourself.”
Okay, WHICH version? Because now I’m thinking about everything I’ve ever said since 2004 and wondering if I’m wearing my trustworthy face or my accidentally look smug but I’m just nervous face.
Meanwhile, my brain is like,
“Are they analyzing you? Are they going to remember this moment forever?”
“Blink less. No—more. Wait what’s blinking?”
I wasn’t prepared for this pressure. I just came for the free food.
Returning Something = Breaking a Sacred Bond
Even if I have the receipt, my brain thinks I need to show up with a scroll, a sacrifice, and a handwritten apology to the cashier for being a disappointment.
“They’re going to hate you.”
“You used it once. You’re probably a criminal.”
“They’re judging you for not wanting that $17 skincare set that smelled like stale cucumbers.”
It's fine. I’ll just keep it forever. Even if it gives me a rash.
“Let me know” = I will never speak again
Someone says “Let me know!” and my brain interprets it as:
“I’m giving you infinite time but also expecting you to respond immediately or we’ll both die.”
“If you wait too long, you’re a flaky monster.”
“If you respond too fast, you’re needy.”
Conclusion: Silence. Eternal silence.
Moral of the story….
My brain thinks writing this blog post = being extremely vulnerable,
and sharing it = standing on a stage with a spotlight while everyone throws tomatoes at me.
But it’s fine. I know I’m not alone in this brain chaos.
So now it’s your turn—
What are the things YOUR brain thinks are the same thing, even though they absolutely aren’t?
I’m listening. But quietly. From behind the couch. With a hoodie on. Just in case.
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