Unstoppable Force, Meet Immovable Object

Hubby once said that watching me argue with my mother helped him to understand the unstoppable force paradox. My mother is a little bit crazy. Not as in “Oh yeah, all parents are a little bit crazy sometimes”, but truly crazy. I have friends who will attest to the truth of that statement. My mother is also a hard, hard woman. She shows no compassion; she sheds no tears. (My mother once told me that she was done with crying; she’d had enough  of that in her youth.) My younger sister, a touchy-feely type if there ever was one, thinks that my mother has buried her feelings so deep that they must be eating away at her from the inside out. I have no idea what dwells in the depths of my mother’s soul, and I’m fine with that – I’m not very touchy-feely myself. But one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be hard like my mother. I also know that I tend that way. So one of my goals for 2016 is to be more compassionate.

What would a more compassionate me look like? It would look like me not getting completely exasperated when the Boy needs to go to the washroom seconds after arriving at our destination, after having refused to go before we left home ten minutes before. It would look like me not getting visibly iritated with coworkers who aren’t being logical or doing things my way. It would look like me cutting everybody in my life some slack.

I have perfectionist tendencies and I rarely cut myself any slack either. Perhaps me being more compassionate with others will help me to also be more compassionate with myself.

I like the look of me being more compassionate.

 

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