Some times, I am really mean
The worst part is, some times I am really mean and I just don't care.
Ask my husband about this when I am trying to clean our house. There is no kindness there.
I have a soft side -- don't get me wrong. I have endless compassion. My husband will also tell you that I am a notorious bleeding heart and can have the patience of Job depending on the situation (like my niece crying because she wants her mom but I'm stuck holding her).
There's a lot going on in our lives right now. A lot I am not ready to talk about. A lot that is bringing out a very, very mean streak.
It is making me want to say what I am thinking. I would love to tell people what I think of them.
That I think my dog is smarter than my office manager (she may not argue).
That no one in this state knows how to drive.
That messing with my life and not thinking anything about trying to screw with me (or people I love) will not reign hell down you.
That the way you interpret that Bible passage is made-frickin'-up by your own self-serving purposes.
That not filling out the whole patient in-take form makes me just want to smack you -- because I told you explicitly to fill the whole thing out.
That when you try to convince me that taking a loan out for a new(er) car is a good idea, it makes me want to tell you to shut up.
That hurting my best friend's feelings makes me want to rip your hair out.
Then I take a deep breath. Or go for a run. Or cry. And I don't say what I think, because Lord knows it's not from a good place. Every once in a while, it comes out anyway.
And, as Robert is so good at reminding me, I am pint-sized and wanting to mess with things much, much bigger than me. Then he laughs at me, which oddly enough, diffuses the mafia-feeling. And helps me to remember that so many fights are not worth fighting.
"I have seen the others, and I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting.
And I've seen their mothers, and I will no other to follow me where I am going...
You ain't got no time to lose, you are young men you must be living...
Go now, you are forgiven."
Ask my husband about this when I am trying to clean our house. There is no kindness there.
I have a soft side -- don't get me wrong. I have endless compassion. My husband will also tell you that I am a notorious bleeding heart and can have the patience of Job depending on the situation (like my niece crying because she wants her mom but I'm stuck holding her).
There's a lot going on in our lives right now. A lot I am not ready to talk about. A lot that is bringing out a very, very mean streak.
It is making me want to say what I am thinking. I would love to tell people what I think of them.
That I think my dog is smarter than my office manager (she may not argue).
That no one in this state knows how to drive.
That messing with my life and not thinking anything about trying to screw with me (or people I love) will not reign hell down you.
That the way you interpret that Bible passage is made-frickin'-up by your own self-serving purposes.
That not filling out the whole patient in-take form makes me just want to smack you -- because I told you explicitly to fill the whole thing out.
That when you try to convince me that taking a loan out for a new(er) car is a good idea, it makes me want to tell you to shut up.
That hurting my best friend's feelings makes me want to rip your hair out.
Then I take a deep breath. Or go for a run. Or cry. And I don't say what I think, because Lord knows it's not from a good place. Every once in a while, it comes out anyway.
And, as Robert is so good at reminding me, I am pint-sized and wanting to mess with things much, much bigger than me. Then he laughs at me, which oddly enough, diffuses the mafia-feeling. And helps me to remember that so many fights are not worth fighting.
"I have seen the others, and I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting.
And I've seen their mothers, and I will no other to follow me where I am going...
You ain't got no time to lose, you are young men you must be living...
Go now, you are forgiven."
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