Hating hatred

There’s a lot of hate out there. People who have allowed it to consume them are doing some pretty horrific things.

That makes us frustrated and shocked and sometimes even numb.


And then along comes anger to pull us out of it. Anger thrusts us into action, although often it is without thorough thought about what may come after we jump into this particular anger-induced act.

The call for our leaders to do something, be they political or religious, screams in all of our ears.

For some reason I find this a bit ridiculous. What do we expect them to do: tell us to be nicer to each other?

No, we expect them to severely punish the perpetrators. I wonder if that isn’t more like standing in the storm, calling for the lost horses after they have stampeded out into the night.

It makes us feel like we’re doing something, but…

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Understanding that I’m mentally ill helps me not be quite so nuts

The last few days have turned a bit downward as far as the magic of mental illness goes. I had been riding a bit high in the days before, dreaming of going back to work and even fantasizing about the job that would work well with me being a bit nutso.courage

I had spent quite a bit of time carefully pointing out to Ann just how great I was doing in taming my OCD, and was a brand new person, and did she notice, huh, did she notice how laid back I am now? If she didn’t notice, I wanted to make sure that she did.

Of course, repeating it to make sure it was clear made me feel a bit better about the whole thing.

Yep, I’ve obviously still got some work to do there.

But, as we know there is opposition in all things, there certainly is in being bipolar.

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Dysmorphia: why don’t I see what you see?

You may or may not be familiar with this word. If you aren’t, that’s probably a good thing.

Merriam-Webster defines it as: pathological preoccupation with an imagined or slight physical defect of one’s body to the point of causing significant stress or behavioral impairment in several areas (such as work and personal relationships).

Dictionary reference simply states: a mental disorder characterized by distorted body image and obsessions about perceived physical shortcomings.

Okay, hold on to your socks as this will be a HUGE surprise to you, but I have a bit of a body dysmorphia problem.

I know – me? Mr. Sanity?Eating-Disorder_Body-Dysmorphia-994x350

(Source: The Bliss Project)

When I look in the mirror I see flabby jowls, skinny arms, chest, and calves and an almost pregnant looking abdomen.

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Why turn the other cheek?

Lately there has been a lot of media hype regarding the story of a woman, who biologically has two Caucasian parents, yet identifies herself as African American.

She has stated that this is who she feels her true self to be, who she really is inside. She has taken steps to alter her physical appearance so that she does, in fact, look as if she is an African American woman.

interviewThe media and African American community, along with many others, are screaming for an apology for her actions.

It appears that this has hurt them deeply, whether it is from the lie or the presumption of understanding just what it means to be Black.


I’m sure I’m not the only one who is scratching his head here. Wasn’t just a few weeks ago that Bruce Jenner was given an award for courage?

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I’m really sorry, but…

Remember when we were kids and we had done something mean to someone else, and our parents caught us? Usually we were grabbed by the ear and placed squarely in front of the offended child.

“Tell them you are sorry.”

This was followed by a look that combined but-Mom-I-was-right-and-he-was-wrong and do-I-really-have-to?in trouble

Of course our mothers understood what our look was communicating immediately, and just as quickly they returned a look that WE understood immediately.

With a gulp, and a kick at the dust, we turned back and muttered “sorry.”

It’s probably safe to say that 98% of the time we weren’t sorry at all.

Well, probably sorry we got caught, but that was about it.

I’ve thought about this childhood experience as I’ve witnessed some adults offer apologies.

Continue reading I’m really sorry, but…