The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

I once believed that stability meant staying put, that consistency required routine, and that adventure was something other people pursued. But eventually, a quieter realization took hold: these weren’t facts. They were stories I had repeated to myself until they began to feel like truth. I started to wonder what else I had mistaken for reality. What other inherited beliefs had quietly shaped the contours of my life?

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Reclaiming Attention in an Age of Distraction

Reclaiming Attention in an Age of Distraction

I pick up my phone without thinking, thumb moving automatically, drawn by a force of habit rather than any real decision. Mid-scroll, awareness returns, sudden and sharp, and I catch myself in the act. A discomfort settles in my chest. My attention, that quiet current shaping every experience I have, is slipping through my fingers. How long have I allowed distraction to dictate the rhythm of my days?

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