Your body turned away first

It happens fast. A stranger at a bus stop breathes out a cloud, and before you've formed an opinion, your head turns away. A small lean back. Not long ago the same air would have pulled you in mid sentence. Your body made the call without you.

That wasn't willpower. Nobody can perform a reflex. You can force a choice. You can fake a preference or argue yourself out of a want. You can't order your nerves to find something faintly unappealing. That lean was a report from underneath. The wiring has caught up with the choice.

This is what the change looks like as it settles. No trumpets. The ritual starts looking like someone else's hobby. You watch a person step away with a cigarette and follow the whole sequence like a card trick you already know. The pause. The hands. The half turn from the group. From out here you can see it was renting you breaks you already owned.

Start collecting these moments. Keep a note on your phone and log each one, the place and the day. A reflex can't flatter you, so every entry is real evidence. God did this work below the surface while you were busy living. Tell Him you noticed. You fixed what I couldn't reach. You're watching it from the outside now, right where you wanted to stand.