“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
― Lao Tzu

photo (15)I’m using my comfort mug and I am in my comfort pajamas.

Yes. I have a specific mug for comfort and it’s reserved for sleepy time tea or hot cocoa only. Right now it has sleepy time tea in it. I like it best because it’s small, first of all, and usually when I find myself needing it it’s at night, like right now. It holds what I think is an appropriate amount of liquid for right before bed.

And as for my comfort pajamas, I wish I could say that I was one of those girls whose comfort pajamas are kind of in that “I don’t know I’m sexy” sort of style. You know what I’m talking about, they feature them in movies all of the time when a girl is supposed to be looking her crubbiest and still by some astounding miracle manages to be  adorable. Yeah. Mine aren’t like that. They’re really, really not. As you can see pictured to the right my comfort pajamas are an oversized night shirt that has a print that is supposed to mimic needle work and grey leggings. What you cannot see in that picture is that the leggings have holes all in them, officially putting the seal of unsexiness on the entire get-up.

[Warning before you proceed– This post may be filled will inappropriate comparisons. Not that kind of inappropriate, just maybe not what you’d expect, I don’t know. ]

You’re probably wondering why the need for all of the comfort by now. Well, today I had a conversation about love that took a lot of courage for me, maybe all I had right then which might explain why I feel so drained right now. It’s not bad that I feel drained, it’s good. The things said were important, right, and necessary, but, at least for me, after being drained that way (because in the wake I also cry a good bit) I need to be gentle with myself for a little while. It doesn’t help that I’m also physically exhausted because I pushed myself really hard this week. Slipping and falling in the mud this morning was a sign. Not really. But kind of.

This is going to be that inappropriate bit I was warning you of… So in Deborah Harkness’ A Discovery of Witches, you’ve got Diana, who is a witch, who for various reasons has not even embraced her powers but then suddenly finds that she cannot run from the magic, that it’s just going to bubble out of her. Anyway, at one point she experiences sorrow over something and starts to cry and ends up producing what the book calls “witch water”. What are at first only tears, swell to become huge amounts of water coming out of her until she’s flooding the rooftop she’s standing on. Later on she produces “witch fire”, a response to anger and the need to protect those she cares about, she conjures fire in the form of a bow and arrow that she can shoot at things. Hello. Why didn’t God make me a witch? I mean, clearly it’s for the best, else the world around me would be constantly either burning down or flooding, but still. It seems like it would feel so gratifying to be able to produce physical side effects of those emotions. I know. This is ridiculous.

I found myself talking about romances at one point today and saying how I wished that rather than teaching girls to hope to be swept off their feet, we taught them to know how to stand through a storm.

Relationships worth having are stormy. And the sleepy tea just kicked in. =)