On comfort

The metaphor of myself as a colicky baby just isn't coming out right.

I want to say this: It is good to feel comfort. It is good to be able to feel comfort, feel comforted.

Sitting here in the lovely silence of Sunday morning, smelling the amazing, green smell of spring, I think: about how wonderful it was to have bf's arms around me as I fell asleep last night, how much I love to hug the little one at bedtime, how my oldest laughs when he's truly tickled by something.

I'm imagining my breakfast this morning, and how good it will taste. I'm thinking about how calm I feel right now. Physically and psychically mellow. Pain free.

When my mood is very bad (and I am trying to find one word which will describe it more clearly, but cannot), I do not feel pleasure in the same way. I am indefinably uncomfortable. I sleep fitfully, or too much, or not at all. My mind is dull, or races with an overabundance of energy. My body aches, and I'm easily fatigued.

When my mood is good, as with today, I feel so...at peace. And that is amazing to feel.