Interesting. I’m in a much better mood this morning than I anticipated. Sleep is good; that’s really the only dot I can connect.

Time change this year fuuuuucked me up something fierce. With Sarah heading back to New Hampshire yesterday morning, that 4:00 AM wakeup call to get her to the airport – normally not that big of a deal – fucked us both up even more. I think we were too tired to be sad.

So last night, she went to bed early. I stayed up, did a bit of homework, played a bit of Playstation, and then all of a sudden it’s 10:00. My cat is being a super asshole lately, so she decided that 10:30 was the right time to find something under my bed to play with. She lost her privileges soon afterward.

A bit after 11:00, while listening to Jonathan Keeble’s soft cadence reading Bertrand Russell’s The History of Western Philosophy, I was out like a light. And lest you think that it’s the narrative that put me to rest, I will tell you that it’s one of the more impressive and clever works I’ve read in a while. Did you know that Pythagoras founded his own religion with tenants, among others, that decried beans? I mean, beans. It’s awesome.

So, today being Thursday, I have some school reading to do today, a quick review paper to write by tomorrow evening, and four chapters of a book on the American Civil War to read by Sunday. Not even tripping. Gonna be a nice, chill weekend of reading and elevating my knee.

I am finally settling in, though, to this emotional space on the outside. The last month or so has had me pretty down until recently. Sarah coming into town helped that tremendously. Coming to grips with what is versus what I want has helped even more so.

Here’s the thing, from my limited perspective: I have always, in my imperfect humanity, only wanted to help. That has been misguided in many ways because, in general and by my own nature, I am sensitive, hungry for approval, and prone to over-analysis. Therefore, the kind of assistance I find valuable is based on my own needs rather than the needs of others; I try to educate and place the mantle of what helps me onto the shoulders of others which, I’m coming to realize, is custom fit only for me. It chafes the necks of others, itching like a shirt sprinkled with cut hair, weighing down the shoulders like sodden fur. I would reject that kind of assistance, too, if it weren’t my own, but that rejection – especially when coming from the people who matter most in our lives – remains excruciatingly painful nonetheless because what has been eschewed was and is an extension of our being, an attempt to mold in the pattern of ourselves so as to create even deeper connections than those that happen naturally. In this, the absence of something yields positive results. And isn’t that the real goal? We want our loved ones to be happy. So the acceptance of what is, maintaining a strategy, taking advantage of opportunities when they arise, and doing the best one can every day – these have brought me a semblance of peace, a peace I might be able to build on.

Now, the beauty of a good partnership is in the unconditional recognition that our process are our own, and we’re loved because of them. I will also readily admit that the depth and potency of the essence of my nature is hidden from most; it takes time to truly come to understand the people who choose to love us because when that depth and potency scares those of us who possess it, then how can others actively embrace it without eventually being crushed under the weight of realization? That’s fear talking. Fear of rejection. And rejection is only tempered by trust.

So being rejected by one human while being embraced by another, isn’t an indictment on the former, it’s a recognition that we, intrinsically, can be loved. This understanding brings hope, not only that we can be loved by those we love in return, but that we are worthy of it.

Right or wrong, that sense of worthiness brings me peace.