Why am I even reading this. “I heal myself.” What is that supposed to mean.

Somebody sent me the link. “Might do you good.” I had a quick look. Phew. Reading. Hard work. Put it aside. Now I’ve opened it again anyway. Am I even looking for something? Things are fine. Mostly.

Although – a snappy tip wouldn’t be bad. A simple technique. Where something really changes. Without it getting strenuous.

Or somebody turns up and says: come on. I’ll get you out of there. We’ll make more of you.

Well, so far nobody has.

Where does the shoe pinch, actually? Does it pinch at all?

Body. Now and then.
Relationship. Well.
Work. Change the subject.
Sleep. Could be better.

Hm. Maybe there is something there after all. This can’t have been all of it.

But I am the way I am. I’m quite okay like this. That doesn’t change just like that.

Or does it? Maybe I’m wrong about that too.

You keep reading about people who take their life into their own hands. Who change something. Just like that. Who say afterwards: I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

What if there really is more in me. Maybe I’ll find answers here. So, keep going. I want to find out.

I read somewhere: “Your own head has something against it when you want to change.” There could be something to that. Mine often says: it’s fine. You don’t need this. What’s it all for.

Maybe you have to outwit it. The book said you first have to get past the firewall. And it suggested an exercise.

Write on slips of paper:

“I consider it possible that I am wrong.”

I stick them up everywhere. And if somebody asks me, I can say: “Yes, I put them all up for you.” If they give me an odd look, I could let them in on it a bit. I’m trying something out.

I read the sentence out loud again and again. And I listen inside myself.

What do I tell myself about myself. About my life, my work, my family, the world. What if that isn’t the whole truth. What if I’m hiding something. From myself.