Unacceptance

It's hard for me to rate my mood a four. I have no reason not to give it a five. I wanted to put three.

I don't know why this is. I had a glorious day, after a disppointing morning, got a little sun, stilled my soul and all that rot, andam feeling more peaceful than at any time in recent memory. God is in his heaven and all's right with the world.

And yet I have a problem acknowledging that things are going well. It's not at all like I expect them to fall apart, and it's not as if there's so much going on, anyway, but I have a perverse streak of resistance against admitting I'm good. I don't know if I complain a lot or not. I do know that I'm typically negative and deprecating, which may be the same thing in a slightly different guise. But i think my need for attention prevents me from saying I'm good.

If I hurt, some people will come to my aid. I try to shoo them away, but i must want it. I must, somehow, enjoy the concern I can wrest from others, and feel it's a more genuine emotion than any other. I have trouble acknowledging and admitting much that is not generosity, much that would be a personal acknowledgement of myself.

The generic benevolences are easy for me to accept.

I have no idea what it would take for me to admit I'm doing great. I can't understand my reluctance to say it, and I think it may be that I'm afraid if I'm good that there will be no one to aid me. I don't know how to handle health, what to do with acceptance. If I'm good, those seeking to aid me will see their job as done and leave, and that may induce me to continue saying things could be better. The truth is, though, things are better than I ever imagined, and I'm sure they'll get better. I'm just afraid to admit it, like it's a dream that I'll awaken from.