Always remember this when you meet people.  I am a victim of this at times.  People assume that because I live how I do now, for example, that this is the life I have always been accustomed.  Nope.  I know government cheese (and butter) and was a kid whose school lunches were free and/or reduced.  People see me now and assume they know my story.  Nope.  Most don’t.  And that assumption typically gets them into trouble.  Don’t do this to others.  It may have been a long, tough road that got them where they are.  And they likely will not wave that flag.

A good rule. Don’t just fill the air with words just because you can. Sometimes silence is the better course that cannot be improved upon.  Consider it.

This about this one next time you feel like one person is fucking up your life.  Why are you letting that one person have so much control? There are many MANY other fish in the seas – friends and/or lovers.  Throw that person back – and catch another one.

I told a friend this story about a month ago when something was overshadowing a lot of things.  She was having a hard time seeing anything as positive because of one thing.  When I played softball, I simultaneously played the worst and the best game of my fast pitch career.  The first inning, I was catching – and I didn’t knock down a pitch that was thrown. The runner on base scored – and it pissed me off because I should have done knocked the pitch down.  I should have been able to do it.  After that moment, everything I did was not right. I felt I was in a downward spiral and wondered why they didn’t just pull me out of the fucking game. No one could talk to me.  I was angry at myself – I was letting the team down – and each inning, my anger would grow.  The bottom of the final inning and we were down a run. The runners were in position for us to either tie or win the game. And I was up to bat.  I hit a triple and scored the winning run. While everyone was celebrating, I was thinking it was the least I could do given how much I fucked up. 

My dad came onto the field and gave me a huge hug telling me how great of a game I had.  “Your best game I have ever seen you play in” was his final words. I stood there looking at the man like he had something growing out of his forehead.  Given the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, he started running down all of the things I did that made this my best game.  I had missed every one of them.  Why? I was focused on that one fucked up pitch in the first inning that I missed.  A pitch, according to my dad, was a wild pitch and not my error. 

How I perceived things and how they really happened were in a huge disparity.  I learned in that moment that I needed to not let anger take me down that rabbit hole.  Doing so would just color the world in a way that was not accurate.  And I would miss the good things happening around me – things that could drag me out of that funk or away from that bad thing. 

And even though it’s Monday: