Intrusive Thoughts

Intrusive Thoughts

They arrive uninvited.

No knock.

No warning.

Just a sentence dropped into the room

like a broken glass you didn’t throw.

—

They don’t sound like you.

That’s the first thing worth noticing.

—

Intrusive thoughts borrow your voice

but they don’t carry your values.

They show images you would never choose,

ask questions you don’t believe in,

suggest endings your body recoils from.

—

And then they wait—

hoping you’ll confuse presence with permission.

—

But a thought is not a desire.

A thought is not an intention.

A thought is not a prophecy.

—

A thought is weather.

—

Some storms pass loudly.

Some drift through like smoke,

making everything feel briefly unlivable

before clearing on their own.

—

The mind is a generator, not a judge.

It throws out sparks—

random, contradictory, unfinished.

Your job was never to arrest every spark,

only to decide which ones you build a fire from.

—

Intrusive thoughts feed on panic.

On the moment you say,

“Why would I think this?”

instead of,

“Oh. That one wandered in.”

—

They lose power when you stop arguing with them.

When you stop confessing them like sins.

When you stop trying to prove you are good.

—

Goodness is not measured

by the absence of dark thoughts,

but by the choices you make

after they pass through.

—

You are not your mind at its loudest.

You are the one who notices.

The one who breathes.

The one who stays.

—

And staying—

especially when the mind tries to scare you—

is an act of quiet courage.

—

Let the thought come.

Let it go.

Do not build it a home.

—

You are allowed to be a safe place

even when unsafe thoughts pass through.

— Flower InBloom 🌿

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Why Intrusive Thoughts Target What You Love Most

Intrusive thoughts are not random in content—

they are random in arrival.

—

They aim for the places that matter

because fear studies your values.

—

The mind learns quickly what you protect:

your children,

your partner,

your integrity,

your sanity,

your tenderness,

your capacity to love without harm.

—

And then anxiety does what anxiety does—

it runs simulations.

—

What if this breaks?

What if I lose control?

What if I become the thing I would never forgive?

—

Not because you want it.

But because your nervous system is trying—

clumsily, urgently—

to keep you safe.

—

Intrusive thoughts are misfired alarms.

They don’t point to desire.

They point to devotion.

—

They circle what you care about

because that’s where the stakes feel highest.

—

The mind says,

“If I show you the worst possible image,

maybe you’ll be alert enough to prevent it.”

—

But vigilance mistaken for danger

creates its own suffering.

—

So the thought repeats.

Gets louder.

More graphic.

More convincing.

—

Not because it’s true—

but because your fear keeps checking it.

—

This is why reassurance-seeking backfires.

Why arguing with the thought strengthens it.

Why saying “I would never”

only invites the mind to ask,

“Are you sure?”

—

Love creates vulnerability.

Intrusive thoughts exploit vulnerability—

not to harm you,

but because the system can’t tell

the difference between care and threat

when it’s overtired.

—

If a thought targets what you love,

it is not evidence of danger.

—

It is evidence of attachment.

—

The cure is not control.

It is recognition.

—

“I see what you’re trying to protect.”

“You don’t need to scare me to keep me safe.”

“I can hold love without rehearsing catastrophe.”

—

When the nervous system learns

that love does not require surveillance,

the thoughts loosen their grip.

—

Because devotion does not need punishment.

It needs trust.

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Grounding Vow

When frightening thoughts arise,

I will not confuse fear with truth.

I will remember that love is their target,

not their source.

I choose presence over panic,

compassion over control.

I am safe to love

without rehearsing harm.

— Flower InBloom 🌿