Neuroplasticity

Neuroplasticity. That one word is giving me hope for a new way of life.

My anxiety is fever pitch right now and I am learning how much my own brain, through decades of abuse and self-abuse, has set a course riddled with nasty potholes, footfalls, canyons, and cliffs. It’s a neurotic mess.

I’ve been strong for so long that now my brain and body have finally overloaded. My heart has decided to follow suit by skipping to its own beat when my cortisol hormones decide to take a flying leap over one of those canyons. Palpitations. And, they suck.

It’s hell sometimes. But, I have to believe that God is using all of this to finally get my attention. My foul thinking has produced an anxiety and panic disorder. Now, I have to fight my way into a new way of thinking.

It is possible.¬†Neuroplasticity. It’s real. We can rewire our brain to new patterns of thinking.

I can change. One thought at a time. Instead of letting my subconscious run my ship, I can choose to change my thoughts.

It’s a process. I’ve been treading the same lines of the labyrinth and I always end up in the middle, staring at a knot of vipers, a living nightmare of the negative voices from my childhood that now have become my shadowy companions.

But, I can change. One neuron at a time, I can turn left instead of right in the labyrinth. I can find the way out by changing my mind set.

Neuroplasticity. My wiring can and will change. There is always hope.

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