Where It Starts (Not Today)
I've been thinking about where perspective actually begins.
It doesn't start in the moment we react. It starts much earlier than that.
Somewhere in things that hurt and stayed. Somewhere in things that worked once and got repeated without question.
Our brain remembers what kept us safe, or what it believes kept us safe, and then quietly builds patterns around it.
And over time, those patterns stop feeling like patterns. They start feeling like reality.
I don't think I'm seeing things as they are. I think I'm seeing things as I've learned to survive them.
There is anger in that learning. There is hurt. There are small conclusions made in moments when I didn't know better.
And somehow those moments get stored as rules.
Do this. Avoid that. Trust this. Be careful there.
What confuses me is how automatic it all becomes.
I don't sit down and decide how to see the world. It just shows up that way.
And identity... I think it builds on top of this.
You spend years becoming someone, thinking in a certain way, reacting in a certain way.
And after a point, even questioning that feels like a risk.
Not because the new thought is dangerous. But because it threatens the structure you've been standing on.
It's strange... how much of what I call 'me' might just be memory repeating itself.