I think most people could objectively look at their lives and see how frequently the problems they had were of their own making, their suffering self-inflicted. We absolutely love to make problems for ourselves, and we do it all the time.
We worry needlessly, we choose immobility, we resist acceptance, we externalize our power, we surrender our ability to choose when really, it’s up to us to decide how we react, when we change, what we entertain our minds with. It’s yet another symptom of our own masochism to say that we don’t have a choice in the matter.
And we do it because we love it. There’s something… fun… in making problems for ourselves. There is something we keep returning to. Whether it be because we feel we deserve it, that it gives our lives meaning, that it gives us human credibility for having been through something – anything – we want
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