Rituals That Rewire

I touch the same bark each time I pass that crooked pine.
Let out a deep sigh at the same bend in the creek.
Loosen when I hear birdsong, not bracing against it.

I used to think healing came from breakthroughs.
Big, dramatic, life-changing moments.
But what I've learned on the trail—healing is repetition.
A quiet, steady rhythm.

These aren't just habits.
They're messages.
I'm teaching my nervous system:
You're allowed to feel okay.

Not every day takes.
Some days I forget completely,
spend the whole hike wound tight as a spring.

But enough days are different now.
My body is starting to believe me.

→ Previous: 2.4 - What the Nervous System Never Forgot
→ Next: 2.6 - When the Past Stops Leading

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*Peer reflection, not therapy advice. Your healing journey is uniquely yours.*