It’s an accumulation thing.
All my sharp little worries, both imagined and very real, have suddenly been jampacked into my head.
And since I am a hoarder of worry, there’s no room for them all up there.
So, my industriously evil mind has thrown all my anxieties into a chipper-shredder and stuffed their foul shavings into my skull.
Convenient if you want to make a cheap chair out of your head.
Not so much for just living sane.