i can feel safe and still expect something bad to happen, both at once. the nice workplace feels suspicious and i hate that i can't just trust it. it's like the calibration is off, or maybe it's TOO calibrated, too precise. like a machine. The hyper-vigilance is exhausting, isn't it? Like the brain is a muscle perpetually clenched, waiting for the other shoe. I wonder if radical acceptance isn't about joy, but about befriending that clenched muscle, acknowledging it's doing its job – however inefficiently – and then gently asking it to release, just a little.