Tag Archives: patience

Brain Dumps: You Should Add Them to Your Routine

My Introduction to Brain Dumps

My introduction to brain dumps was actually in the form of “morning pages”. I began doing my morning pages as part of my practices when reading The Artist’s Way. Later, I heard Tim Ferris mention using brain dumps as a way to have a more productive day on his podcast. I hadn’t been prioritizing my morning pages anymore. I had become fidgety with anxiety. Anything more than five minutes of still meditation (guided or otherwise) felt nearly impossible, but the idea of sitting for ten or fifteen minutes and writing seemed less daunting. I gave it a try. I sat for a few minutes with my Self Care Everyday journal and wrote. They weren’t complete sentences, it wasn’t a story or poem, it wasn’t even cohesive thoughts. It was freeing because there was no right or wrong, no expectation, just release.

Who Should Do Brain Dumps

Short list: everyone. Longer list:

  • Anyone who is creating a better life in any way
  • Anyone who is making decisions
  • Anyone who knows what it is like to have to hold many thoughts in their mind at the same time
  • Anyone who feels anxious, overwhelmed, or like their mind is overflowing with information
  • Someone who is working to determine their emotional triggers and needs to keep record of the people, places, and things that impact their feelings
  • Parents
  • Children
  • Entrepreneurs
  • Therapists
  • People in therapy
  • Employees
  • Creatives
  • You
  • Me

How Do You Brain Dump?

First, let me make something clear: You don’t have to be a writer, artist, or creative person to do brain dumps. Second, there is no “wrong way”. Now, clear at least five minutes from your busy schedule. I prefer doing brain dumps in the morning and before bed, but you can take this practice throughout the day. Just grab your preferred medium (pencil, pen, paint, marker). I prefer to use my Release and Reset Clarity Journal: Use Brain Dumps to Declutter the Mind journal because at the end of each seven days, there are lined pages for me to evaluate my recurring thoughts and reset by making proactive decisions for the coming week. No paper? Use a sticky note, paper cup, napkin-whatever you can find. 

Take three deep breaths (because, science). Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Go! 

Write.

Scribble.

Doodle.

Do whatever gets the thoughts out of your mind. Your sentences don’t have to be complete. Your words don’t have to be spelled correctly. Your lines don’t have to be straight, perfectly curved or even meet. 

When you’re finished, you can keep it, throw it away, or burn your thoughts (be safe, please). Take another three deep breaths (still science). Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Add brain dumps to your routine for a few days. Come back and let me know how it benefits you.

If Words Were a Hug

I would be lying if I said that this is how I expected my life to be. I’m grateful, but truthfully, most days I’m frustrated with myself. I can be so hard on myself, as if I could see the future when I was making decisions. I’m further along than many, but I’m far behind where I want to be. I’m in an endless cycle of burnout and exhaustion on this “journey” to figure out what actually matters to me. Healing isn’t always pretty. It’s not just hot baths, flights and flowers; some nights, it’s crying in the mirror and saying all the things that you want to hear from someone else, until you feel safe and loved. This is the result of one of those nights.


I love you.
I love you.
I love you.”
I’m sitting in front of the mirror. The room is illuminated by the dancing flicker of the flame from my chakra candles.
Green for my heart. Orange for my Sacral.
Nobody exists but me.
Nobody is coming to “save me”.
Tears fall, but I keep talking because I need to hear it to feel it.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I forgive you.
I forgive you for the times you didn’t listen to your intuition.
I forgive you for putting the pleasure, joy, and well being of others ahead of your own.
I believe in you.
Today. Tomorrow. Every day.
Clear the noise and know that I am proud of you.”

As a smile spreads freely across my face and the salt of my tears touches my taste buds, I am reminded that all is well.

Let this be a reminder to you:
All is well. Though you may not feel it now, you are whole. You are loved. You are valued. Every day.

I AIN’T RUNNING FROM NOTHIN’

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not running. I’m standing with my face to the sun. On days when the sun doesn’t shine, I stand toe to toe with my fears. I question my attachments because what got me here won’t get me where I want to go.

Laying on the beach. Solo. The wind’s blowing wild, the birds are singing and the waves are crushing my insecurities. My toe’s fucked up, but the X-ray said it’s not broken so I sip my nasty beer and eat my delicious ham sammich. I wiggle my toes a little bit to make sure this moment of solitude and serenity is real. The twinge of pain that shoots up my foot confirms, shit’s real.

The sandwich is done. I’m in a bikini that fits better now than it did in 2013 when I bought it, but I still have belly to rub. I’m rubbin my belly, fantasizing about the life I’m creating and tossing around the revelation that I’m not running from anything. Instead, I took a beach day for myself because it’s what I wanted. I made it a solo day because I only wanted to be with me. Not because life is too heavy or because I’m scared to face reality, but because I wanted to enjoy a moment with my star player.

Smiling at the water. Salt on my lips.

I’m flowing to my purpose. I’m in alignment. I’m divinely positioned and it’s all making sense now. It’s me, myself and I against any issues and it’s not aggression, but a search for understanding that shapes my perception. Watermelon juice dripping off my chin. Ice cold Capri Sun quenching my thirst. Rubbing my fat ass belly on the beach.

I’m divinely positioned and I’m feeling just fine.

Something Like a Spring Garden

Small moments mean the world to me because I know what it’s like when those moments don’t happen. I ask you to help me build something or to teach me your perspective because those are moments we didn’t get before.

As I’m growing, I have learned to look at you as a man, not just my dad. That shift in perspective helps me see you. Not your mistakes or shortcomings, just you. It allows me to extend patience and speak freely.

You’re my dad, but I choose for you to be my homie.

This is my healing. This is me forgiving. This is us growing.

Every project completed and every honest conversation is a step forward.

I’m in therapy learning skills that allow me to navigate the blocks engrained in me since conception, but it’s out here with you that the heavy lifting happens. I never say it aloud-I get that whole “taking shit for granted” vibe from you, but I’m learning-but I appreciate the times you show up. I’m grateful for you and look forward to seeing you grow because you’re never too old to do your best.

Ay Da! Thanks for doing yard work and asking to take a picture with me on Easter, that’s major.

Rise.

I am safe.

I am protected.

I am loving.

I am loved.

I create peace. 

I speak sunrays.

I smile gratitude.

I rise with affirmations and gratitude. On those mornings when my anxiety’s attempting to Geppetto me into doing nothing or screaming statistics in my ear, I quiet the noise with gratitude. When I feel like I have nothing, I wiggle my toes and fingers, rub my hands together, blink and smile. That’s how I remind myself that if I don’t do anything more in the day, I’ve already won because I’ve defeated the voices that told me not to rise.

I encourage you to rise. Fuck those voices. 

Breath in your body means you’ve got a reason to live.

You’re a gift. 

Your existence is important, even if you don’t feel like it in the moment,

Rise.


All is Well Tee