i'd been drifting a long time before the yes showed me — through work, through years, through days that just happened to me. that's the drift: doing things without deciding them. and the loudest place it shows is a yes. someone asks, and it's out before i've decided — a second later it doesn't feel like mine, because it wasn't me who said it. the fear said it: the guilt, everyone already going along, me not wanting to be the only one who didn't. and the yes was never mine.
the fear gets to answer because it's faster. it's been answering for years and it doesn't wait for me — by the time i've thought about it, i've already said yes and now it's real.
so this is seven days of practicing the half-second before that yes, while it's still a choice. not a quit-everything week, not willpower — arguing with yourself always starts a second too late.
it's one small thing you do with your hand, over and over. the hand gets there before the thinking does. that's the whole thing.