It’s almost nine o’clock in the evening. I’m listening to all of my punky/alternative music shuffled together, and I feel quiet spreading through my body. Josiah is the only one home other than myself, and he is sitting at Elizabeth’s computer, chatting away on Meebo.com. (Meebo Rocks!) JustinCase just showed up in the mix, a song about leaving a girlfriend. I feel a little like this right now.

“I did try, but that’s not how I live. I don’t care anymore if you think that I was in the wrong. Sometimes things don’t work you and you know that it’s time to move on.”

Oh, I’m not feeling like it’s time to move on from any of my relationships right now. Now, but it is time to move on. It feels like it’s time to stop trying to live according to some of the rules that I’ve lived by for my whole life. I don’t even know where it came from, but there is this one rule that haunts me. It says that I have to try and make all the people around me happy. It makes my happiness partly dependent upon theirs. It makes it nearly impossible for me to claim my own right to act and choose independently of the people around me.

I think this was one of the big reasons I needed to move out of my parents house a little over two years ago. It wasn’t that I was unhappy there. I love my family. But I needed to try living on my own, where I wouldn’t be beholden to anyone else. That didn’t work very well. I have this nasty habit of taking in strays. No sooner was I living by myself than one of my brothers from the Brotherhood moved to Chicago and needed a place to stay. A few months later, he left, and I regret that I think I made him feel bad about my need to reclaim my private space.

George moved in with me about 7 months after that, and I haven’t lived alone since. Strangely I don’t miss it. I don’t think living alone is the goal anymore, although there are some moments when I wish I had more time to myself. Mostly I am glad for the company, glad for the new family that I’m building here. Tonight I am glad that Josiah is mostly leaving me alone with my thoughts. I need this space right now, and even though he’s right there, it is as though I am a million miles away, residing in my own bubble around my nice clean desk.

But back to the point. I was thinking — earlier today — about how much time I spend making sure that the people around me are happy. I don’t really begrudge these efforts, and the vast majority of the time I don’t even mind that people rarely notice how attentive and careful I am of them. I certainly put up the good front. I’m snarky, and bitchy, and quite a cunt when it pleases me to be so. It’s enjoyable to behave rudely for the common good. And it is for the common good. My bad humor, my off-color jokes, and my razor-sharp barbs are part of my method for keeping my family running smoothly. I make it okay for us to have faults. I make sure it’s okay to fail, to fuck up, and to do stupid things. Alex and I share this philosophy.

If you tell people that you love them, and speak clearly and directly about their faults, and continue telling them that you love them; they will come to accept their faults and accept that they are beautiful for who they are with no need to change or hide themselves from the world.

By teasing my friends and family about their mistakes, and by doing it tenderly, I strive to ensure they are strong. I strive to ensure that they accept every part of themselves, the good and the bad, so that when the bad comes up to challenge them, or when someone attacks them using their negative qualities against them, they will be prepared. They will know and accept their daemons, and they will decimate any who dare to try and use those shadows against them.

There is more too it of course. More than I could hope to share here. Ah, I must change the music now, this angsty rowdiness is not matching well with my current mood. Move to the background music playlist. Ah yes, very peaceful. Serene even. And of course the cat seeks my lap, “scoot” I say, pushing her to the floor.

There is more too it of course. I remember a few months ago. It was the night before some Brotherhood event that had been planned spontaneously, I’ll spare you the details. We were in the kitchen lazing about. Shivian, Lizzie, and I were talking, and Lizzie mentioned something about the next day, about the event. I realized that she hadn’t identified this as a Brothers Only event, and thought she was coming along. I hate being exclusive, and I wanted to make certain her feelings weren’t hurt, but I also needed to make sure she was aware of the miscommunication as soon as I could.

We continued to talk. Several minutes later, I took some conversational element, and stretched it a bit, I don’t recall what, but it was a stretch. I did it with the intent of being able to mention the next days events, and mentioning that they were Brothers only without seeming forceful or rude, without seeming to be targeting the information at Lizzie. It worked like a charm, and Lizzie popped out with the appropriate question, to which I dutifully responded something along the lines of “Oh no dear, I’m sorry, it’s members only tomorrow, we’re going to be doing some official work…”

I thought I had gotten cleanly away with it when Shivian called me on my verbal gymnastics and demanded to know how and why I had made that particular stretch of thought-patterning. Being out of tricks I explained myself concisely. “I realized Lizzie thought tomorrows event was public and I wanted some non-confrontational way of putting the information out there gently and conversationally, so I stretched my logic a little.”

Elizabeth seemed stunned, but recovered quickly. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt your feelings.” I explained.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” She said.

Shivian, in typical fashion just stared at me. Incredulous. “I find it very hard to believe that that was your main motivation for that leap.” He said, or something in that vein.

“It was.” I replied plainly. I was a bit hurt that he would question my motivation. Until Shivian opened my eyes there, I had typically assumed that people around me knew how careful, diplomatic, and cautious I am. I figured people knew that I was always taking stock of their moods and feelings and conversations, and adjusting myself accordingly. I honestly never thought that they might not be aware of that. Shivian, cocoon smasher that he is, woke me up from that thought.

Of course now, I find myself a little bitter that people don’t recognize or appreciate my efforts. Even though some of my friends will probably read this, I wonder if they’ll really understand how often I make their lives easier by going with the flow instead of asserting my own preference? How often I am keeping score in my head and choosing one side over the other to balance things out?

And even as I write this, I’m not trying to get anyone to recognize those things. It would be nice, but if I wanted recognition for my work I’d do it to get paid. But sometimes, like today, I wish that people would be as attentive of me as I am of them. The most I can really ask is that they give me space when I need it.

Shivian said something to me over a year ago. It’s something that’s stuck with me, because it’s one of the first things another person has said to me, that really helps to define who I am. I’m a very lucky boy. I have been granted many gifts to share with my community. The gift of my language, the gift of my heart, the gift of my mind. I hold my gifts in trust for those I love.

Shivian was talking about my ability to be friends with a friend of mine who is chronically late. I responded as always “That’s just who he is. I acknowledge that, accept it, and make certain it doesn’t stand in the way of our friendship.” He said something like “Your ability to put up with peoples shit amazes me.”

I realized then that my greatest gift is not my mysticism; it is not the fire of the gods, nor the poetry of my language. My greatest gift is acceptance. I have an uncanny ability to see people for who they really are and accept them with no questions or need to change them. I will gladly urge my friends and family to better themselves, to transform themselves, to change their lives, and to change their worlds. But that urging never comes unasked. I will not urge a friend to change if he has not indicated he wants change.

As with anyone, I make errors of judgment here. It is hard to tell what is a cry for help and what is just bad behavior. I do the best I can, and I’m proud that people can come to me as themselves, and be accepted as themselves.

I don’t know where my point went, it seemed that I had one when I started typing. Something about needing to move on from the rules that I don’t have to follow. Yes, that was it. I don’t have to follow the ‘make people happy’ rule. I really don’t, but who would I be if I didn’t?

If I wasn’t the person that was constantly aware of the people around himself, who would I be? That’s a question that will only get answered in time, but I recognize that I can only follow that rule so long as it doesn’t hurt me. And when it hurts me I need to be brave and release my cohorts’ expectations of happiness. When it begins to hurt I have to treat myself with the same compassion that I treat those around me, and nurture the part of myself that gives me the strength to make them happy.