I have this thing that rents space in my cranium. It may or may not support me in what I want to do, choose to do, need to do.
I am NOT the Master of my thoughts. I am more like a spectator to the cerebral sumo wrestling between the part of my brain interested in my welfare and its mirror image committed to my unhappiness and discontent.
If you think this is overblown, consider that taking care of me often sounds like selfishness on my part. Sleep, exercise, regular meals, prayer, positive self-talk all sound like self-indulgent luxuries rather than the fundamentals of positive self-care.
So here we are, ready to finish another orbit around our home star and I’m back in the Remedial Human Being Section.
Oh well. Be kind to me. Because I probably won’t be.