Winter has a way of turning one bad night of sleep into a full personality crisis. Add menopause, and suddenly every ache feels permanent and every mood feels like a diagnosis. Lately, instead of spiraling, I’ve started yelling one word at my own brain: Nocebo. Not gently. Not mindfully. Like I just slammed down the winning Uno card. It’s not toxic positivity. It’s a verbal speed bump between a normal thought and a lifelong prophecy.
To finish reading, visit Thoughtfultini on Medium and read When Your Brain Turns Against You in Winter: Nocebo!
