Usually fall is my favorite season, but this was a hard one, and I'm happy for the psychological turning point offered by the solstice. My basic struggle right now is to simply make the shift from an outward focused sense of goodness, my own goodness and worthiness, to an inward one. To base how I feel about myself, and by extension everything else, on some interior quality rather than on someone telling me I am a good girl. Yes, it's can take over 50 years to get beyond that. And I've only just now realized in a deep way how all of my little addictions, from coffee to sugar to obsessive social media reading to getting attention from a man, are just ways of COPING with my own basic and fundamental unhappiness and keep me from really taking action that would help me find a more satisfying life that would then not need all those little surface pleasures because there would be deep pleasure, true satisfaction.
Who knew my inner resources were so weak? I can't believe in a god to pray to. Nor that I have spiritual guides or angels or any of that. I return to meditation, to Buddhist thinking, which appeals to both my mind and my heart. I think about making art, about my writing. Writing will save me, it always has, but even that ends up being a quest for approval, for love. If I write well enough, will you love me?
And then, there's Al, and that relationship and the ways that it has been both healthy and not-healthy for me. I am still grieving the loss of my lover at the same time as continuing my friendship with him, the daily correspondence. I have so few friends these days, and he knows me pretty well, knows my daily rhythms, my joys and fears.
One more day of work, and then a small break, the holiday, the family traditions, the family shrinking. Nothing to do know but to keep going. As Phil would say, left foot right foot.