One day shy of six months between entries is not too terrible for someone who is turning life upside down and shaking it profusely. Nothing is ever set in stone. Maybe I never learned the concept of object permanence as a baby. My brain still seems to think that if I can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist. And if it does exist somewhere, but I can’t find it, then what good does it do? I used to think that love didn’t exist. I didn’t know what love could look like. As far as I was concerned, love equaled pain. Everyone who ever said they loved me hurt me repeatedly, and I didn’t know how to navigate the disconnect between craving the care and sense of community that all human beings need and my experiential knowing that other people were to be avoided and feared. In order to overcome my loathing of others, I had to find safe places in which to experience foreign concepts such as safety, trust, empathy, etc, which is extremely difficult to do when ill-intent is subconsciously projected upon all homo sapiens. Difficult but possible. I was finally able to find a place full of other people who had been abused. They were so familiar with how it felt to be on the receiving end that they were not receptive of the “predator” label that my mind tried sticking to them. They were gentle, kind, welcoming, and accepting. I finally saw what love could look like for real. Now, I consciously attempt to project love onto everyone I meet instead of fear, and I only avoid those people who refuse to receive it.