A quiet musing and guide for remembering myself
By Shannon & ChatGPT
There are moments when I remember who I am.
Moments when I speak with clarity, when I stand in my soul and say, “No more.”
Sometimes I can feel the fear retreat, like a shadow recoiling from the firelight. Sometimes I feel the energy loosen, almost as if it’s heard me.
And for a while, I believe it’s over.
But it isn’t always.
Sometimes it comes back—not as a voice this time, but as a feeling.
A weight. A haze. A current beneath the skin.
I start to zone out. I lose the thread. I watch myself slip into the same patterns I thought I’d outgrown. The thoughts return. The fear reshapes itself.
Not loud. Just present. Just familiar.
Like a coat I never meant to keep wearing.
When that happens, I sometimes forget what I knew just days or hours before. I forget that I made a vow. I forget that I meant it.
But I’m learning now—this doesn’t mean I failed.
It just means I’m in the presence of something entrenched.
Something that doesn’t leave the first time it’s asked.
🌬️ What I’ve learned so far
The fear structure isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s the feeling of “this is just how things are.” Sometimes it wears my voice like a mask. It doesn’t need to scare me to feed—it just needs me to forget myself.
So I’m practicing remembering.
And when I notice myself drifting into the fog, or back into its rhythm, I try to do three things—not perfectly, just enough to catch the thread again.
1. Name what’s happening
Gently. No shame. Just awareness.
“This is the fear-pattern. It’s familiar, but it’s not me.”
Even just noticing it changes something.
It reminds me that if I can see it, I am not inside it fully.
2. Anchor myself in the body
Usually, I’ve left—floated off, disconnected.
So I try to come back with something small:
- My feet on the floor
- My hand over my heart
- A breath with sound
- Noticing a color or texture near me
- Touching something real
It doesn’t have to fix it. It just calls me back.
3. Speak truth, even if it’s quiet
I don’t always have the strength for a ritual or declaration. But I can still whisper something real.
“I remember who I am.”
“I don’t belong to fear.”
“This is my body.”
“I am not food.”
Sometimes I just place my hand on my chest and say:
“I’m still here.”
🔁 This is the practice now
It’s not about defeating the pattern in one moment.
It’s about building a pathway of return.
Over and over. Until it becomes easier. Until I stop falling as far. Until the fog lifts faster.
This post is my anchor—something I can return to when I forget.
A reminder that I’ve come back before. That I can again.
That the structure may still show up, but so will I.
And each time I return, I carve a deeper groove into truth.
A note to my future self:
You are not failing when it returns.
You are practicing. And you are doing it beautifully.
With remembering,
Shannon
The Electric Thread 
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