I didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed, or with an angry intention in my heart. I had to assist my husband with an less than pleasant task, a life lesson the “keeps on giving” so to speak. Reminding myself that taking care of this task was a step closer to the lesson being done “giving” to us, I hopped in the car and set out to get things taken care of. This was a third attempt to take care of this, and the strain of the delays was felt as soon as we saw this this was going to be a failed third event. The feelings of judgement and discrimination were palatable, and The Internet that lives in my head hurried to jump in to to tell my the reasons I shouldn’t be feeling that way that I did. It went a little something like this:
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