If we are sooooo fricken smart, what makes discomfort so comfortable? 

Why does changing ourselves seem so hard?

There is something in us that causes us to act this way. 

If we don't like the job we are in, why don't we just get another? 

If it is something in our day to day life that causes us to suffer, why don't we just change it?

I drifted through life pretending to be happy.

Why?

I am a smart woman, with high emotional intelligence, able to shift any moment to happy to show the world that I am "FINE" outside. But really, I knew the truth, inside... 

So when I was alone, why was I not comfortable with my own thoughts? 

The simple answer is thought patterns. 

We are humans, creatures of habit. 

We choose to stay in the same situation because we have become addicted to the emotional state the circumstances create and the chemicals that arouse the state of being. 

Yes, your body creates chemicals that arouse your mind to stay put. 

Let's look at this... 

I was in a marriage which was not personally...

Have you ever noticed, how you know how your day is going to unfold?

You know the traffic is going to be backed up on your way to work. You know how the mood of the staff is going to be because of that big project everyone is behind on. You know your day is just going to be so busy with no "you" time. You know what others are thinking about you because they "looked at you" a certain way. You know you are going to be late to a meeting. ON and ON and ON.

Oh it is so tiring. It is also a mental block. Like walking on a path and you come to a huge barrier. You can't go anywhere else than what you see in front of you. 

You actually put up the barrier yourself. You create the negative mindset to see all that is wrong with what is yet to even happen.

THEN, when you actually see what you are looking for, you have this simple, weird gratification to knowing. You say things like, "See, I fricken knew it, traffic is backed up, now I am going to be late." 

Well, let me tell you this.... that is messed...

There is something magical for me when I see a stream, creek or lake. I knew this from the earliest of age. 

It's no wonder in my adult life, my choice was to live on a lake. 

Growing up on a farm, I explored. Just down from the barn, was a creek that flowed from the mountains to the lake. My brother and I would jaunt down to fish with handmade fishing poles and our bucket with more worms than dirt. Our fishing poles were made of the nearest branch we found along the way, some really brittle fishing line from Dad's fishing box, and a hook big enough to catch a shark. OK, maybe a trout, but still, to the bull heads we were fishing. It was WAY too big. 

My brother would get the worm on the hook, that was too gross for me to do, we would fix our little buts closest to the hidden holes of the creek where the bullheads could hid till they see their chance for food. Billy always got the culvert, as he said that was the best spot.

 That didn't matter to me, I would lay, tummy down, on t...

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