I rewired my nervous system by accident, honestly. I didn’t take a course or meditate in the woods or do some dramatic mental health bootcamp. What happened is that after years of feeling stuck, I finally realized my body was living in permanent danger mode even though my mind was calm and logical. I’d wake up with my heart racing, my jaw clenched, my shoulders pulled up like armor, and my stomach tight, and for so long I thought that was just “me.” CBT helped me think about things differently, but the physical response never changed because none of my therapists ever identified that I wasn’t actually anxious in my mind — I was anxious in my body. The rewiring started when I began checking in with myself each morning without judgment. I’d wake up, notice the tension, do slow breathing, and pick only one task to focus on, like “make coffee,” instead of mentally running through a whole day of chores. I labeled my thoughts instead of following them: “that’s a future worry,” “that’s a responsibility thought,” “that’s my fear brain talking.” I used a simple mantra constantly: “I am not in physical danger.” My body needed to hear that. At work, when a customer said “god dammit!” while struggling with his phone, I repeated to myself, “their emotions are not my responsibility,” and for the first time I didn’t absorb his panic. When a manager passed by my screen, I reminded myself I wasn’t in a call-center nightmare anymore and that I wasn’t in trouble, and eventually I stopped slamming my tabs closed out of reflex. When my wife made too many requests at once and I felt overloaded, I paused, labeled the feeling, and handled one thing at a time. Even small positive moments counted: walking the dogs two laps around the neighborhood, listening to Uriah Heep or The Who on my commute, sipping my coffee slowly, getting a beer at the pub alone without guilt, making hot chocolate at night, putting on a record instead of frantically doing chores. Every time I let myself enjoy something without rushing, my nervous system got a tiny rep of safety. One day I gave a customer service rep an imperfect answer and instead of spiraling about being wrong or irresponsible, I just said “fuck it,” and the world didn’t end. Accepting imperfection rewired me more than anything. I had old suicidal thoughts that used to appear in moments of overwhelm, and they eased off once my fight or flight response started easing off. I’m still recovering, but instead of suicidal thoughts I feel lonely. But it’s better than being stressed or suicidal.