My head’s been all over the place these past few weeks. On a phone call with my therapist, I expressed how it’s been a struggle to just manage my perspective. Isolation from society isn’t causing this stress. Rather, it’s the change in how my life is lived.
Hold that thought.
Perspective matters. My previous line of reasoning started out with the abysmal. That’s a habit only a Lutheran might pick up on. Start with what’s negative. End with what’s positive. A story that has a beginning and an end. The end has to be artificially sweetened.
How do I break that habit? It’s my existence. Things have to be bad before they are good. It’s an assumption I make. That assumption smears its taint over much of my thinking. I should stop being me. Stop bothering. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Struggling against a negative perspective is also a struggle against that artificial narrative of bad going to good. I want the whole process gone. It’s made me afraid of when things go well. There’s always that worry that it’s not really going well.
How can I tell the difference between something good and something artificially good?