Sometimes, it feels like the weight of the world rests on my head, not my shoulders, not my heart, but directly on top of me. It’s an odd feeling to describe, but when there's depth whether physical, emotional, or mental pressing down on my head, something inside me begins to shut down. My thoughts slow, my vision narrows, and my focus evaporates like mist in the morning sun.
This sensation doesn’t always come from obvious stress. Sometimes it’s from a tight cap, a heavy hairstyle, or even just prolonged exposure to heat. Other times, it’s not physical at all. It’s the pressure of expectations, deadlines, voices around me, or even my own overthinking. I call it “depth” because that’s what it feels like: a thickness, a pressure, a sensation of being buried alive. And when that happens, concentration becomes impossible.
I could be in the middle of a conversation, a task, or a thought, and suddenly, I drift. It’s like being underwater, trying to listen through layers of liquid. Everything becomes covered up and confusing. People think I’m losing out or not paying attention, but what they don’t realize is that I’m fighting a silent battle inside my mind a battle against the state of mind that “depth” brings with it.
When the head feels light, I feel alive. I feel fast, sharp, clear. My energy flows freely. I’m alert, connected, and creative. But once that depth sets in, even my inner voice becomes quiet. I lose impression of time. I lose impression of the thread of conversation. I might even forget what I was doing a few moments ago. It's frustrating because I know I’m capable, I know I’m smart, I know I have things to offer but when the focus goes, it’s like a part of me disappears temporarily.
Over time, I’ve learned to manage it better. I try to avoid anything that weighs down my head, physically tight hats, heavy bush hair, or anything that traps heat. I keep my environment cool, and I take mental breaks often. I also check in with myself emotionally. Am I overthinking? “Perhaps” Am I stressed? Am I carrying things that aren’t mine to carry? Because mental weight, too, can settle on the head and steal away my focus just as surely as anything else.
Some people may not understand what I mean when I say “depth on my head makes me lose focus.” But for me, it’s real. It’s not an excuse; it’s a real, felt experience. It’s something I’ve grown to understand about myself, something that affects how I move through the world.
But the beautiful part? Once I remove that depth once I find relief I feel reborn. My focus returns, stronger and clearer than ever. It’s like stepping out of darkness into sunlight. And in those moments, I remember who I am: “xeeon”, focused, aware, and ready to take on my dreams.