Head and heart

I was in a pretty bad way yesterday. I don’t think that was clear when I wrote. Writing has the effect of taming things for a while, but the effect wears off often. I felt wrong, almost at an existential level. It felt fundamentally wrong and so unfair.

Later I reflected on that – why should that worry me so much? I don’t expect fairness. I know it’s just an arbitrary construction, and know better – mostly – than to take any digression from it personally. And mostly because of that I’ve been able to shrug it off and often, in fact, use it as motivation. I’m someone who responds well to such challenges.

There’s the head then, and there’s the heart. I know this in my head, and because I have become inured, and so defiant by extension, I feel it also in my self, my body, maybe even my heart. But not yesterday. Yesterday I put words to it trying to claim some order. I felt bleak in my heart though, and as I went about my day in a haze I associate with depression.

Last night I slept better than I have for so long. I have a sleep tracker that tells me how often I rouse during the night and puts a score on my sleep quality. Last night the score was 98%, which was no surprise. I woke to feel that I had not slept so well since I couldn’t remember, and reached to read the score. Once upon a time it’s how I slept most nights I think, but these days I average somewhere in the 70’s.

The sleep did me good. It settled me some. I recall just one small dream, though she was in it, as herself.

One of the things that went through my head yesterday was not just how I should feel, but what I think? I wonder if pure intellectual reaction has been corrupted by woolly philosophy. I wondered if I should be angry, but then considered that what I feel now because of her she may have experienced because of me. Does that make a difference? Does it make more sense of things? In any case, I didn’t feel angry.

I wondered if I should just walk away – but from what? I’m not doing anything but being myself. I’m not trying anything with her. I’m not trying to woo or charm or persuade her. I put no pressure on her except, possibly, by being myself – the person she fell for. And at this stage, I refuse to be anything less than that person.

I keep thinking, this is her decision now. I don’t know if that’s a cop-out, but it informs my behaviour and policy of non-intervention. Is it possible it confuses her? Would I be better trying something? That is my dilemma though, the two sides of it – I could be more or I could be less, and either might be right. Instead, I choose just to be who I am, not pushing, but present, decent, intelligent, reliable and fun. Here I am – over to you.

In my mind, I see the relationship between us constantly shifting, if not in transition then certainly dynamic. I am aware of her, and I feel her awareness of me. There was something, it hit a speedbump and went off track and raised a lot of dust – and now I am trying to steer back towards the track while the dust slowly settles. I’m not there yet, and dust still hangs in the air, but track this course and the air will clear.

But then, I wonder, is her snubbing the other evening the real final word on this? Is that what she wants me to know? There is no track?

It’s funny how we apply interpretations to events. I’m always wary of it because it often involves the emotions, and there’s the prospect of twisting the interpretation to match your hopes. I don’t know if that’s a filter I can see, but my sense from Friday is that she snubbed me because she didn’t want to face me then. I don’t think it was rejection, rather a convenience. I don’t know if she overheard the conversation from the kitchen and if that was playing in her, adding to the noise. I did a lot for her, and she knows it, and I know she is grateful, but, I suspect, it was not something she trusted herself to express at that moment. It was easier to blow by me.

These are the thoughts in me today after having slept. My head and heart are in more accord. I feel less sad and certainly less hazy. Tomorrow, at work, might tell the tale.

For me, I go on as ever. There’s no reason to doubt myself, for this is the authentic me – and I don’t want to be anything less than that.

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