Something pretty huge is happening to me these days that I'm not even at liberty to write about. It doesn't involve only me and it would feel wrong to weave a story out of it. In fact, this is pretty strange, but I don't even feel like I should think about it.

It isn't my story, it's yours. I'm a quasi stranger parachuted into more intimacy than I have been explicitely given, it isn't my place to be there. But if I'm honest it's all I can think about. So I'm just going to jot down my feelings in a semi-structured way and see what comes of it.

Fear

I fear that I'm not good enough, that I haven't got the heart qualities I need. By these heart qualities I mean knowing what to do, how to be and whom to call upon. I'm spending hours upon hours second-guessing myself about what the best course of action is, but I'm playing by ear entirely and I wish I was someone with a better habitus for this. I fear that I'll do too much, or not enough, or not the right things.

I fear that I'm almost abusing you in some way, that you didn't choose me to be with you in this vulnerability. That I came across it at a time when you couldn't hide it and it isn't fair because you might not have desired to show it.

Shame

I'm vaguely ashamed that I can't just take this in my stride. That it's taking so much of my mental energy just to process it.

I'm ashamed that it's your story not mine and that I have no right to make it such a huge part of my mental landscape, because we don't have that level of friendship and you might not have wanted that if you knew.

Anger

I'm angry at the local subculture which is allowing this to happen with noone lifting a finger to reach out.

I'm angry at your hierarchy for not taking into account the incredible loneliness of this occupation and I'm angry at their choices and at their indifference.

Sadness

I'm so incredibly sad that I could cry my bodyweight in tears. And mostly, when nobody is watching, that's just what I do.

Pride

I'm proud that I've been able to break free of conventions and come and visit you anyway. I'm proud I put my son in your arms. I'm proud to extend joy, tenderness and laughter. I'm proud of my imperfect best attempts. I'm proud of my genuine desire to acquire more heart "for next time". And despite all the awkwardness, I think you would have been proud of me too.

Love

I hadn't realised how much I loved you until now, and if this hadn't occured I probably never would have done. I feel like the kid in The Mission who picks up the monstrance from the floor when the priest gets killed and holds it high again. And it's true that kid hasn't got the full habitus, but he's got the seed of things to be, that seed which time and time again prevents the whole mission from failing.