The Calculus of the Recovery from Hatred (As Hate approaches Love, what is the value of Me)

Hatred is not something that is discussed in clinical terms very often at all, at least from my experience. It should be. What is it? Of what does hatred consist? What is at least anecdotally known is that it makes people, some people, very sick after a spell hatred. Mental exhaustion and depression invariably follow a bout with hatred, unless one pretends it away with escapism in one or more of its many forms. Hatred's opposite, of course, is, in the beginning, non-hatred and it's gradual ascent toward love. When hatred is directed a specfic person, and that seething rage circulates ad hominem, within and without, love is a ridiculous alternative. But, there exists a sliding scale that has worked for me. First: Can I love the hated one. Invariably, the answer is, "not on your life." Secondly, can I have compassion for the hated one. Again, that box is rarely checked. But, third, can I simply accept that the hated one and I exist, and that I should simply practice non-hatred at first, leading to the eventual letting go. To think there'll be eventual love is simply out. As regards these persons, and indeed places and things, the best I can, is going to end at letting go. I don't give up on moving further along, to kindness (an act), and it's object, compassion, but it would be a grave mistake to try to skin ahead. There are antecedent moves that open laws of letting go. I have to work the steps, just like in AA. So, the point is made: I can[t got straight to love. While it sounds good, the act is nonsense. I have to approach love, like calculus (hate approaching love). As hate approaches love, what is the everchanging value of me. (h horizontal arrow l) affecting the value of m. The oddyssey from h to l begins, in my way of thinking with first attempting simple acceptance of the existence of hatred, even in me, and then consciously working away from it toward non-hatred. Then acceptance, not of hatred, but of the fact that I a prone to bouts of hatred, clinical hatred, upon the presence of the right conditions. Dilligence should warn me that these conditions are gathering, but, at least as concerns this last monstrous attack, I didn't recognize the onlsaught until it was too late. I am deeply to those were were exposed, even tangentially, to it as it consumed me. I can do better. To recognize the hatred's assemblege, and what better opportunity is there to imbed this into my bones now that the presidential election is upon me. I'm going to accept the outcome with flowers. With tiny bees and fall colors, frost astors, and bright blue skies. Dilligence is my morning jacket. But it's not to forgo another hate-sick morbid hangover and slow recovery. That's ancillary. I'll do it, and godammit I will, because it's a right as anything I can imagine.