Tag: habit

Personal Development

River

Ruby Pipes11 Comments
"Fork you! (bw)' © Éole Wind , 2009. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.
“Fork you! (bw)‘ © Éole Wind, 2009. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

“You have to entertain the idea that maybe you were wrong.”

Not that I did anything bad. Not that I misheard or acted incorrectly. But wrong in the sense that the things we used to do did not mean what we thought they did. That those same things did not make us who we assumed we were because of them.

Our brains make the same patterns over and over again. Connections reinforced our entire lives. Neurons working like muscles in groups. The most often used pathways become stronger and the others wither. Rivers cut so deep into the earth we assume they will never reroute. But they are. With time. With practice. With interference. Continue reading →

Mental Health

Source

Ruby Pipes4 Comments

"Nail in the Fence" © Grant Frederiksen, 2014. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
“Nail in the Fence” © Grant Frederiksen, 2014. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
“You have a really strong core. Great muscles in your lower back and shoulders. It’s just that a lot of them are holding things kinda, you know, in the wrong place.”

He spent thirty minutes trying to get parts of my anatomy I never learned the name of to release my left shoulder. Let it fall down, shift back. Slide into the place it used to reside. Before the motorcycle crash. Before I started leaning on it while studying, reading, writing. Before I forgot how to relax. Continue reading →

Mental Health

Trahere

Ruby Pipes4 Comments

"'Starry Night'...The Rains of Isaac Falling" © Viewminder, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
“‘Starry Night’…The Rains of Isaac Falling” © Viewminder, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Hydroplaning. Enough water to lose friction, but not enough to create more. I feel like if I had just a little more ache I could name it. If I had just a little less I wouldn’t have to.

I talk about how I got up this morning. When the alarm clock went off, even. On less than twelve hours of sleep. Amazing. I revel in my ability to take a shower and put on clothes. To leave the house. Keep appointments. Can it count as friction? Please. Something to give me a little traction so I feel less like I’m sliding. Careening. Out of control. Helpless.

My shoes skid across the sidewalk and I swear I’m floating. People are just blurs of hats and scarves. Sunglasses. Warm, fuzzy blobs of color and noise. I am completely disconnected. Nothing you’re saying sounds like words. I smile, but I don’t see you. Not really. Keep my hands in my pockets, unsure if I’d actually feel my touch on anything. Begging to feel like I’m residing in my own body. Like I have any sway over what happens in my head. Continue reading →