Differences

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How you treat others who are different defines who you are!

When you see a person who is a head taller than you, do you stare? If someone in a wheelchair is struggling to open a door, do you help them? Your child comes home and says they “like” a person of a different race, how do you react? The new neighbor has a Ferrari, should you assume they are a snob? Your best friend tells you he decided to quit his job as a lawyer and join a traveling road show, do you think he’s crazy? A co-worker confides in you about questioning their orientation, do you spread rumors? And the man down the street hangs up a confederate flag, how do you react? What if the flag is a rainbow instead?

The old saying, “don’t judge a book…” isn’t just a clever cliche. What’s on the inside is much more important than the leather sleeve or glossy cover.

 

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it doesn’t matter…

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…that the color of your skin is different than mine, you are human

…that you are very tall or very short, you are human

…that the God you believe in makes you pray in another way, you are human

…that you have obvious facial hair, you are human

…that the food you eat turns my insides out, you are human

…that you grew up in a mansion or on the street, you are human

…that you were born in another country, you are human

…that the way you love confuses me, you are human

What matters is the way you treat me, the way you speak to me, and the actions you take toward others. Your behavior, your innermost thoughts, your soul.  These are the things that make you who you are. and you are HUMAN.

 

Got that right!

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Almost forgot

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write every day

even if it is one for a couple of minutes

write every day

so, here goes

I have these story starts singing in my brain. Sometimes I write them down, maybe even get to a few chapters, then I lose it. Not sure why. Hoping a change in lifestyle habits will change my mood, increase my motivation, and just get me jump started. Move more, eat sensibly, and write write write…

I find that when I’m down, I pick. Literally and figuratively. My fingers find small pimples to pop or dead skin to pluck or I grab the nail clippers and cut as much off as possible or get the pedi-thingamabob and slough off the dead skin on my feet. Something to remove imperfections on my external self. It helps me think. This becomes a way to rid me of the bad. But it doesn’t quiet the voices. They’re always there. Somewhere in the back. Angry, evil, negative, an inner bully that will not ever be completely shut the heck up!

OK, I’m rambling. Sorry, but sometimes I wonder if others have these same issues? Comment if you share this oddness.

A promise

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i promised myself to write more often, daily if possible

i promised myself i’d eat better, 3 times a day

i promised myself i’d move more, 2 times a day

i promised myself i’d try to be kind to me, 24 times a day

i promised myself to listen more to the good, motivating voices than the bad, bullying voices

i think i’m doing good so far

Life

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is a trip. I wish the stops along the way were all places like Disney World.

They say what doesn’t kill you… blah

Well, I may not be dead, but I think I was strong before I went through the crap. Otherwise, I would have given up a long time ago.

I have to learn to enjoy what I have not long for what slipped through my fingers.