Some memes

empathy at first, because i misinterpreted it as sympathy, like someone feeling sorry for me. it took a very long minute until i understood that someone said they got me, or saw me, they were being sincere and may actually be someone who could guide me through the rapids of life in recovery. even though i began to understand that they were practicing empathy and started to feel that way towards my peers in recovery, i still was more than a little adverse to asking for help or letting them really see me. as i tired of gaming the system and finally began to wonder what i had to lose, if i allowed others in, the amount of empathy i was capable of feeling increased as i found the ways and means to love and be loved.
as i got up from sitting this morning, what i was left with was a question of how much could i love and allow myself to be loved. there was a time when i believed i was too broken to love beyond a certain capacity, as if i had only so much and any more would mean something had to go. the answer to my own rhetorical question was that IF i had a limited capacity to love and be loved, i had yet to reach it and was nowhere close to overflowing. how empathy and love got tied together in my head this morning is a mystery and one that does not require being sorted out. it just happened and i can live with that as an event without diving down the rabbit hole of causes and conditions.
i may have a job and even if it is a McJob, it might be something i may like doing. being the addict that i am, waiting for the answer is driving me nuts and i want to apply pressure and some self-will to the situation. growing the beard is certainly an exercise in differed gratification and i guess i have to drop getting an answer on my job into that same bucket, NOT FUCKING YET! i truly hate that bucket, but as i am attempting to live in the what is, i have to accept that bucket has an infinite capacity as well, just for today.

∞ DT ∞