2026.03

https://ddrkirbyisq.bandcamp.com/album/monthlies-202603

Life is alright.  Good, even, yet still the sting of despondency and depression strikes every here and there.  We spend so much of our lives "doing the right thing", being told by our parents -- and later, ourselves -- that it will be good for us.  When getting everything right was put forth as simply being the status quo by our parents, it turns out they were giving us practice for the inevitable trenches of adulthood where nobody praises you for signing in to work, for filing your taxes, for numerous other things you juggle in your life.

And why should they?  We can speak about how we must reach a point where we stop believing love is something to be earned, yet that does not mean that we all "deserve" love.  Unconditional love comes from no one but God, but even then, that says nothing about the love we "deserve", says nothing about the care and companionship we may or may not receive.

I found myself thinking circles the other night about those bouts with unrequited love that I faced in my younger years.  What is it that made it so hard to accept when someone I admired and crushed on did not feel the same way?  Was it the naivety of youth?  Hormones?  Some sense of insecurity about my self-worth?  A lack of empathy?

You can't make someone love you.  I already understood that for a long, long time, but I think it took me a while longer to understand how to move forward from that.  Going through multiple failed relationships over the years I think gave me a different perspective, not just because of the obvious, but because I think it pushed me toward thinking of love not as an action to take, but as a thing to receive.  Perhaps it is because I was raised as a boy that I was always predisposed toward thinking of myself as the subject and not the object of love.  But loving the most amazing person in the world cannot bring me happiness.  It is a matter of how I'm treated.

And we cannot control how others treat us.