Something took me down these last two weeks, which means I let it.
Basically, it was people-stuff; pitiful and passionate as grade-school playground days. There was a patch-up, but no true make-up, because the stresses that catlyzed all the negativity are still ongoing.
I drag through the days, then drag home at night. Today, finally, I decided on recuperation. I can't undo all that I was caught up in, or, probably, defend without attacking. In fact, some of my earlier defenses may play out as perceived attacks. They were never meant to be. They were honest, innocent best-choices that time has tangled and mangled.
The good side of all this? I understand in my gut why people fight. I have sympathy for people under attack and even for attackers, and I see why efforts of peacemakers are often futile or even provocative. I feel my human limitations and I don't like them; I feel sad.
I maintained my pome-a-day ratio by exploring all this as word-therapy.
I also nourished other friendships; this helps nourish good intentions, goodwill, and expectations of better times later.