Shame in the morning.

Waking, and immediately confronted by envy. I’m sure this is envy? Envy of a person whom I have little relation to now, in a different profession, in a life I don’t want, with a partner and friendships I do not know. From a time long ago.

Where is my gratitude for the person I’ve become. For the work I’ve invested. For the love I’ve received.

Is this envy or is this shame? Social shame. My shame. This is shame, I can see this now. This is my standard of myself now, against a man I bearly know.

Shame of my incompetence at that time, in reference to that man, in that way. The confusion. The preoccupations of that man.

Measuring up to myself. To myself now, against myself then, at that time. When I should have been better. When I should have left a better memory of a man.

This is not regret but disappointment, invited by my past self for a future self, who requires more of me. I need a new memory of myself; for myself.

What is this? Why after sleep? Is this me climbing from a regressive dream or does this concern the day ahead? A question of competence. A piece of work that troubles me, with a man whose life I might envy. Whose competence and achievement I might covet.

I believe this state, this shame, this envy, these feelings, relate to the way in which I hold expectations of myself about a part of me; not, the whole of me.

This state, these thoughts, these feelings are of one part of me, assessing; competing not with the whole, but another aspect. I know this, as I am not just this. I am more than this. I am not just my father’s mind.