Patterns

What if the thing I keep trying to fix was never meant to be fixed—only understood?

We call them problems.
Isolated. Containable. Solvable.

But what if they’re not events?
What if they’re echoes—symptoms of something older, deeper, more embedded?

A pattern.

Not just of action, but of belief.
Of how I see myself.
Of what I think I deserve.
Of how I move through the world without realizing I’m tracing the same steps, again and again.

It’s easy to treat the surface.
To adjust. To cope.
To change the outer shape without ever touching the inner rhythm.

But underneath the noise of each “problem” is a design—
an architecture I’ve unconsciously built.

Patterns don’t scream. They hum. Low and constant. Like background music I’ve grown so used to, I don’t notice it until I’m still enough to hear.

And maybe that’s the real work. Not rushing to fix—but slowing down to see. To ask: What story keeps repeating through different circumstances?

Because once a pattern is named, it loses its power to operate in the dark.

What was once unconscious becomes a choice.
And choice is where freedom begins.

Change the pattern—not by force, but by awareness.

The so-called “problem” won't vanish.
It just stops being the thing that defines me.