The early warning catalog
The early warning catalog is a written list of your personal signs that adrenaline is impersonating energy. Fast talking, over-explaining, agitation, forgetting to eat or drink, light-headedness, stimming, the rub at the back of the head — the specific list is yours; the point is that it exists in writing, because the state it describes erodes the self-awareness you would need to notice it unaided. You consult the catalog the way a pilot consults instruments: not because something feels wrong, but because feeling right has stopped being evidence.
The problem as you experience it
The cruelty of the crash is that the state leading up to it feels excellent. Output is high, speech is quick, everything is urgent and you are equal to all of it. From the inside, adrenaline and genuine energy are indistinguishable — and the adrenal state actively erodes the self-awareness you would need to tell them apart. Asking yourself “am I overdoing it?” fails precisely when the answer is yes.
So stop asking yourself. Ask the instruments.
The practice
Write the catalog down — your specific, observable signs, in your own words, kept where your weekly review will trip over it. Mine is below, and it doubles as a starting point. The checklist keeps whatever you tick in this browser only: nothing is scored, nothing is sent anywhere, and it forgets as easily as it remembers.
A private self-observation list. It is observational, not clinical — it diagnoses nothing and replaces no one’s medical advice. Ticks are stored on this device only and never leave the page.
What you do with the reading matters less than taking it. If more of these are present than you expected, that is information from outside the distortion field: pay the hyperfocus tax early, eat something, take the five-minute Oak meditation you were about to skip, use 5-4-3-2-1 to come back into the room. The catalog does not prevent the crash by itself. It moves the decision about whether to keep spending to a moment when you can still make it.