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01-25-04 - 12:43 p.m.

Let me begin this entry of abstracts with a little attention to some material things, some happenings I have enjoyed. I have enjoyed cocoa and coffee mixed, being able to smoke it the kitchen, my homemade burritos, a discussion about the nature of friendship, and laying my head on a shoulder. I have enjoyed Bat’s rendering of “Maniac”, the movie The Piano, and the following quote from Dr. Faustus, “Christ will not save thy soul, for he is just.” My academic curiosity seems neverending in a quite pleasant way -- I keep writing down this or that to look up. Bat and I tried to sing along to Cocteau Twins songs with unintelligible lyrics that include "cherrykola." I am beginning to learn some German words from Bat, finally, after a year of him speaking it at me sporadically. I am also learning to recognize the tunes he plays, "Satin Doll" and "Just Friends" and many others. I like the fact that I am beginning to wake up a little every day.

My mother used to tell me “Trust the process.” Implicit in her “trust the process” was the phrase “divine process”, in other words, trusting God or God’s process. For a theist or a Christian, this can be a difficult enough matter, viewing the suffering in the world and those things that appear as injustices to them and trying to accept them as part of the will of an almighty figure. Perhaps it is just that “process”, that magical working, that I cannot see which makes me an agnostic on good days and an atheist on bad ones, one who is occasionally graced by belief in the divine rather than marked by it. In any case, I do believe “trusting the process” is possible for those without a deity, and is the mainstay of Zen Buddhism. It’s not the circumstances, but the fears and feelings that make the circumstances unlivable. Letting go of fear, however, feels unsafe somehow, as if letting go of fear will make the scariest things come after you. Stop thinking about murderers or clowns and surely a flock of them will descend upon your house! I think I am letting go. I am learning to “trust the process”, to trust life.

A large part of this is learning to trust that I can survive at home again. I believe being freed from the emotional burdens of my sister and my parents’ woes gave me a great happiness. I have been ecstatically flying around, free to be responsible for myself only. Now I learn, due to Bat’s fear of his parents disapproval, that I have to go back. I’ve been begging and begging Bat to reconsider, to let me live with him on his parents’ dollar, and it’s time for me to stop being afraid. Not so long ago I was struggling to get Bat back – now I’m dismayed that I can’t have chocolate syrup on my ice cream sundae. When I sit down and think about my emotional reaction to this whole situation, I feel very selfish. I got what I wanted, and a temporary bonus (living with him) and now I am pouting the lost bonus. I need and want to become more spiritual in an Eastern sense, or more transcendental. I’m sick of receiving gifts (Christmas presents) and gifts (happy accidents) and realizing I never really enjoyed them. I need to take some greater time in my life to appreciate. I guess that’s what that last entry was about.

In order to trust the process, I need to trust Bat. Near the end of the summer, before the breakup, I was the love police. No matter how formally I phrased my complaints, they mainly were summed up as a small child’s complaint, “You don’t lovvvvvvve meeeeeeeeee!” or “You love (X) more than me.” Basically this philosophy killed Bat and us. I think, despite the fact we’ve been involved, during our breaku, I have developed a little more emotional independence. There are multiple ways I could take Bat’s decision not to bring me along, and you can guess the first one that came to my head. “Bat doesn’t really CARE about the PAIN I’m going through as much as his own silly nervousness! He doesn’t LOVE me or else he’d UNDERSTAND.” It comes to me now that if he doesn’t understand what I’m going through it’s because he doesn’t have to live at my house, not cause he doesn’t love me. Who the hell DOES understand? I need to trust him when he says he wishes almost as badly as I do that I didn’t have to move back home. I need to trust him that he would bring me along if he didn’t think living in sin would make HIS home front tumultuous.

It’s funny, the proof that he loves me is there, and has almost always been there. He has been a friend to me nearly every day since we have met. He saw me through the hardest time anyone ever has – even passed up a vacation to support my family. Then in August or so, feel too sick and cancel a get together once, maybe get drunk and cancel one twice... and the doubt would set in. Now, here is, and I can see it every day. He is enjoying my company, playing with me, laughing with me, "wanting" me, listening to my serious thoughts, watching my movies, cooking half our dinners, and simply telling me he loves me... I could barely ask for more proof. Time to trust.

By the way, BabyKitty got put down on Friday.



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