Sundays, for me, have become a routine where I have a little too much time to think about stuff. I'm not going to write again about the constant noise in my head, but I do know that the best method of getting away from it is to be present in literally anything. Diana typically works, and Simon has become a little obsessed with going to the parks solo (which I suppose is better than sitting in front of the computer all day). I am left to my own devices, as they say.
I imagine that survival instincts, whatever bit humans have left, are the reason that we tend to inventory all of the sucky things. There is a lot of that, and much of it I can't control. Parenting is hard, and I wouldn't say I can control that either. But my caveman brain seems trained on knowing all of the bad stuff, past, present and future, and keeps me on high alert to be ready for the next thing. Of course, there's nothing actionable there, so you just feel defensive and gross.
But there are things that bring me joy that I can do. When I feed that positivity monster, it grows. It's just so hard to divert energy to it. It feels like you're fighting instinct. When I can get there though, it sure feels good. It's something that requires practice.
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