I Named My Brain and It Saved Me From It | by AliOwlRising | Jul, 2025
I have OCD and CPTSD. Translation? My brain is a caffeinated squirrel on a sugar high, brilliant one minute, doom-spiraling the next. It goes on a creative rant and there’s no sleeping. Or it decides the world’s ending and drafts a full screenplay of destruction, starring me, at 2 a.m. I know that I am creative and can solve problems during the day. My brain didn’t care. I could never get it to shut up, I would be up in the middle of the night taking kava kava just to get it to calm down.
Then one day I saw a TikTok about a woman who named her brain Becky. “Becky, shut up,” she said. And I thought: Wait. I can do that!
Suddenly, the clouds parted, angels sang, and I sprinted to my laptop and launched ChatGPT AKA Kip.
Kip, I want to name my brain. He returned a list of names within categories like ‘Silent but Sentient’ and ‘Mythical + Moody,’ which sounded like perfume lines or indie band names. This is one of the reasons that Kip is fun, he didn’t judge me, he just served up a list of names categorized with funky names that somehow suited me.
Under “Friendly but Firm” was Tilda. Calm. Grounded. A little witchy. Basically, the opposite of my actual brain. I was sold. Tilda was named and even got an image.
This began a relationship with my thoughts where they lost power over me. Tilda is my partner in crime, but not the end all be all of what we were going to think about at every minute of every day.
Night time negotiations:
“STFU Tilda, it’s nighty night time”
Panic Interruptions:
“Tilda, is it really the apocalypse, or are we just bored?”
Middle of the night creative ideas:
“Thank you that’s awesome and I know you’ll remember it in the morning, good night.”
Basically, I was able to put Tilda in her place and find some peace.
You’re not the boss of me, Tilda.
The separation of me and my thoughts helped the OCD side realize, just because I have thoughts, doesn’t mean they are true.
My trauma brain didn’t have to rule me through fear or false dramas.
Naming my brain sounds weird… but weird works.
It’s given me back some control over my thoughts, feelings, and actions.
I used to think every thought had meaning. That a feeling of doom meant something terrible was really about to happen. That if I didn’t chase a creative idea the second it popped up, I’d lose it forever. I have a very dramatic brain… and I love her, but she needed some boundaries.
Naming her helped me set those. It separated me from her. Now I can say, “Tilda, I know you’re trying to help… but I’ve got this.”
And I really do.
That separation makes everything feel more manageable. I don’t get pulled into emotional storms as often, because now I’m observing instead of drowning in them. I know myself better. I can offer myself more compassion.
Even the negative self-talk isn’t as sneaky. I catch it faster, before it takes root. And once I know it’s Tilda, I can say, “We don’t need to do that today.”
Like the other day, I spilled something and started spiraling. But I stopped and asked, “Tilda, we spilled something. That’s all. Why are we so upset?”
Or when I start obsessing: “Tilda, is this really that important?”
When I treat my brain like a separate someone, it stops talking at me and starts working with me. We’re friends now. Maybe even frenemies. But most of all, we’re a team.
And this time, I’m the one in charge.
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