I’m fading.

As I look back at my friend sitting across me, I’ve realised I’ve comprehended nothing of the last 2 minutes of our conversation. My mind, which is usually fairly awake, is fading quickly from 100% and going into shutdown mode, gradually blocking off the stimulus at the 21^st birthday party I am at. Right now, I’m guessing I’ve faded around 50% and can feel my mind retreating into its cave. Much more of this and I’ll be close to complete mental shutdown, which is not a pretty sight. A voice in my head speaks very clearly to me.

Get out of here.

I quickly scan my surroundings for a getaway. I see a room full of people, finger food, photographers and lights and hear an overwhelming bundle of noises. I find the door that I entered from, the portal which leads to a quieter, less stimulating place. I turn my focus back to the conversation in front of me, my mind now closer to 60% faded. I immediately feel a pang of guilt – it’s unfair to talk to someone who’d rather leave the room than listen to what you have to say.

“I’m sorry.” I interrupt, excusing myself to the toilet.

“Oh, don’t be.” He laughs. “You gotta go when you gotta go.”

Not about the toilet – you deserve someone who will give you the attention you deserve. I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it.

As I leave the room, I hear my mind breath a sigh of relief. Finally – some quiet. I find the toilet and stare mind-numbingly at a wall. “Wouldn’t it be great if the Earth just swallowed us up right now?” I wonder.

Yes. I think so too.

But of course, I don’t control the Earth and I have a 21^st to get back to. I begin the tug-of-war with my mind, cooing it to come out of its cave. “Come on, buddy.” I beg. “Be alive for just a little longer.”

Go away.

I sigh, and begin the familiar protocol to catalyse my mind’s recovery. Knowing my mind likes to be around nature, I walk out of the building, down the stairs into a cool, starry night and find some trees to pace amongst. Hearing my footsteps amongst the pebbles and feeling the cool breeze against my skin does something to stir my mind out of hibernation. The next step is to find somewhere with as little stimulus as possible. I move to somewhere quieter, with fewer street lights, and sit against a tree. Silence. Perfect. Next, I reflect on my day and any interesting conversations I’ve had. My mind traditionally enjoys this game and tonight is no exception: I can feel it emerging from its cave now. The last step, and usually the most effective, is to write: there is something magical about putting pen to paper that makes my mind dance. While I don’t have any paper, I take my phone out and begin jotting some notes down. This acts like coffee for my mind, and I feel myself coming back.

After a while, I walk back up the stairs to the party and check my watch. I was gone for around 10 minutes.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask myself. After a moment, I hear the reluctant reply.

Okay. Let’s go.

I take a deep breath and step back into the room, flinching at the avalanche of stimulus, hoping it won’t be too long until I’ll have to leave it again.