The Glitch
I know exactly when it’s happening. That’s what makes it so frustrating.
I can see the loop. The thought. The worry. The story my mind has decided needs one more lap. And then another.
Sometimes it’s money. A decision. A future that hasn’t happened yet. A problem that may never happen at all.
There are no fires. But I’m still scanning for smoke.
It shows up disguised as preparation. As responsibility. As vigilance.
The voice whispers: Just checking. Just thinking ahead. Just making sure. Meanwhile, I’ve been circling the same thought for forty-five minutes.
The glitch isn’t dramatic. It’s repetitive.
A browser tab refreshing itself. A smoke detector chirping in an empty room. And the most frustrating part is that awareness doesn’t automatically stop it.
I can see the loop. Name the loop. Even write about the loop. And still be standing inside it. As if recognition and release are two entirely different skills.
The glitch isn’t trying to hurt me. If anything, it’s trying to help. It just doesn’t always know when its shift is over.
Some days that’s useful. Other days it’s exhausting.
Some thoughts deserve our attention. Others simply deserve to leave.
Author’s Note
This essay was originally published in my Substack, Meggen in the Middle, and is republished here as part of the Meggen Harris Journal. One of the things I’ve learned since writing it is that recognizing a pattern isn’t the same as resolving it. Awareness doesn’t erase old habits, but it does create the possibility of choosing differently the next time the glitch appears.
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