I think my brain is broken. It saddens me. But at least it's not a broken heart or a broken soul, or maybe it's all of those.
In any case, it's sometimes quite easy to forget about my broken brain.
I don't remember it when I'm watching the cryoceiling at work get lifted 45 feet into the air.
I don't remember it when the sun is shining and when the deer watch me cautiously as I walk to my car.
I certainly don't remember it when I'm at the library, trying to find an appropriately "intellectual" movie to borrow along with the guilty pleasure Hallmark movie in my hand.
I really only think about it when I'm driving home and thinking back on my day and realizing, "Hey, you, those negative thoughts, those despairing thoughts? Those aren't the thoughts of a normal brain."
So I try to be kinder. "It's okay, brain. You worked really hard today and no one thinks you should quit your job or that you aren't smart enough to handle it."
I pray that the kind words are the true ones.
|My feet + Gulf of Mexico, March 2018|