At rest, at home, at something.

I'm giving myself 11 minutes tonight. It seems to makes sense.

I had an excellent weekend with Penelope. I brought a lot of anxiety with me, apparently. I got very, very tired in the evening, and we cancelled our plans for going out. Not that she was crushed, but I did feel a little guilty. I mentioned this to her briefly, apologizing, and she said it was okay, she was feeling the same way. It's nice for it to be okay with her. I guess the truth is that I'm not okay with it. I look back at memories of my time with Alexa and how this lethargy, tiredness really made a mess of things. I think it's important to note that it's not the tiredness itself that is bad. If I'm tired, I rest. What goes wrong is when I contribute to it unnecessarily - that is, by, say, not getting enough sleep the night before or even during the week; or by not taking a strategic nap on that day - and when I feed into fatigue as an excuse for not doing anything. It is hard to be objective, as to whether I am actually tired or avoiding the day. I have a feeling I am being too harsh on myself and, when I'm tired, I'm mostly just tired. If I'm avoiding things, I know.

It's hard to follow my feelings, when I know that my conception of them can be so misleading and misled. It makes it difficult to trust myself in any situation. Maybe I'm reacting to something that has nothing to do with the actual situation, for example. If I can't distinguish projection from reaction, then how can I trust my feelings at all? Nothing seems real.

I partially acknowledge that this train of thought is in itself a stance of alienation from my true feelings that needs to be overcome, but I don't have a good response to it. I'm convinced, to a certain extent, that when other people are following either their feelings or intuition (different but similar things), that most of it is murky guesswork coupled with blind self-confidence. Not that clear feelings are non-existent; just inconsistent and easily confused, disturbed, clouded. Way too easily for anyone to consistently follow their feelings with any accuracy. It's not hopeless, but it's something we muckily struggle towards, not something we ever do gracefully. The grace is a show.

Sober truth, or unnecessary doubt? You tell me. I'm not sure.

And that, my friends, is eleven minutes. Goes by quickly.

Good night, all. And it will be a good night - despite all the doubt above.