I recognize that I’ve been wallowing a bit.  I need to sit in it.  I’m wrestling with pride (of course) and hope (always) and uncertainty – but I feel rumblings.  I had a conversation with Reza last night that was more a lecture to myself than it was to her:  We have to take responsibility for our own feelings, to let others have their own without letting it bleed over onto our goals and progress.  Some days I do a good job of remembering this.  Lately I haven’t.

That’s not to dismiss the trauma and work my loved ones are doing right now.  It’s recognition that their work is their work and I have enough of my own right now.  (Even if I didn’t, that’s not my lane anyway.)  And I believe that’s the best I can and should do for them, to give them emotional space, even if it’s antithetical to my nature.

I struggle because I want to affect the outcome.  I want to say and do the right thing.  These are fallacies.  I have no more control over someone else’s feelings for or about me than I do over the sun rising tomorrow.  My actions speak for themselves; if they are too much to bear because of past failures, I can’t wish them away or dull that pain.  I have to accept the consequences of who I was just as much as who I am now.


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