Throughout history, humans have believed in the power of prayer. When someone across the world from us is struggling, we tell them we’ll send thoughts and prayers their way, as if us thinking good things will change anything in someone else’s life. But the evidence exists. Positive and negative energy can affect the world around us.

I was watching a thing on the power of such energy, and they bombarded water molecules with words like I love you or I hate you and then flash froze them to study the crystals they made. The water that was given positive energy made gorgeous shapes, the classic snowflake look. The water that was given negative energy made shapeless blobs.

They say patients should think positively about the outcome of their treatments, that you should believe in good things happening – like getting that job or what have you – and if you do, if you send out that positive energy, then good things will come back to you.

Ok, great, but what about someone who has harm ocd? What about when I dwell on the bad? If thinking about something good can cause the good thing to happen if you just think hard enough, am I causing bad things to happen to the people around me, or myself, simply because I’m thinking too hard about something negative?

I’d rather think happy thoughts, but I doubt and worry and my anxiety gives me anxiety in a vicious circle. I’m learning how to identify and let go of it, but it’s a long process, and I’ve only just begun.

Meta-consciousness, or thinking about thinking, is something I’ve been struggling with lately. I’m too aware of my thoughts, my inner narrator, and the repetitive pattern of the words in my brain. I think in words, constantly, without pause, without a single moment of silent meditation, but when I have trouble thinking of the next words, making my thoughts progress, they repeat, verbatim, numerous times, until I can finally move on to the next words, and my inner story continues.

So I’m at this point where I dwell on negative things, get anxious about the fact that I’m dwelling (yet again), become overly aware of the words in my head to the point where there seems to be “Me” and “Her”, the voice, the narrator of my life, who I’m aware of, can’t always control, and talk to like she’s someone who can be reasoned with. The more aware of my thoughts I am, the more anxious I become, whereas, when I’m moving forward, it’s just… me.