The Final Habit

My mind is fairly stable and on the mend. I have some terrible habits I need to break. Now that I haven't felt the PMDD terrorizing me, it's much easier to understand my thought patterns. That objective look into my mind could not happen before. Now, I have a grasp on the way I interact with my feelings.

Meditation is easier. It is a practice. No one just stops thinking, you know? It has become an easier practice, now that intrusive thoughts aren't operating for a week or two every month. Now I know what other women feel like, finally. I do envy them never having had this particular affliction. At least it's over, now. My mind does clear for longer bursts of time. Maybe I'll even get the time without anything surfacing for up to five minutes, one day. That has been quite a wonderful thing, lately.

I'm nearly at the point I can read a few chapters of a book in one sitting, again, too.

The changes that pain makes to your brain is incredible. The myth of mind over matter only served to make those changes more intense, too. The more the pain is suppressed, the worse we all tend to behave. This is something that I can understand now only because I've been through it. I could certainly sympathize with someone, and even feel an echo of their pain through their facial cues. Now, though, I can see when pain is why someone is behaving the way they are. It's an interesting insight.

I'm not all that chipper right now, and yet, I don't feel anything like I did in the past. However, I want to rely on old, very bad habits to cope, anyway. The idea that I'd want to die is so ingrained on my entire being, that it is difficult to break out of it. That absolute finality of a solution was part of my upbringing. My mother's only answer to her life was suicide, after all. It isn't surprising that it is imprinted on my being. I need to break this habit, though. It's the last vestige of my old self that I want to rid. Goodbye, goodbye. Begone.