10:45 p.m. - January 23, 2006
(it's called grace)
Laying on the floor for too long, ruminating on the weekend, and the phone rings; it is CM who replies to my I'm-fine with OK, now tell me more, and listens carefully to what I had to say. It is later, again laying on the floor in the dark, and the phone rings; it is Shannon with her voluble Hi! that always lifts my spirits. It is what I needed before knowing what I needed. Things like that make outstanding lanterns as one muddles through this life.
Very last word on Joel and the weekend, thanks to CM's probing questions and on-the-spot analysis: Antisocial personality disorder, in the classic sense, sans ambitions of world domination and other traits. I didn't have to say much before she began describing Joel to me right down to his facial expressions in a creepy, goosebumpy way. We both know the inaccuracies inherent in armchair psychoanalysis but it was down right chilling talking with CM. Everybody should have a brilliant psychologist to talk to for free.
So I did some thinking, some reviewing, and again can see how much I've changed. I'm getting to know myself like encountering a childhood friend after decades apart and having a good time rediscovering the past. A major change crept in unobtrusively that's made me wonder since it occurred; in the past, I would burn all bridges and literally not give a damn about the offender, just like deleting a corrupt computer file, but this afternoon I realized I was praying for Joel that he might also find his way out. I'm still stumbling and uncertain of my own route, but the evidence is clear: I have gained traction.
It is a good thought.