It’s hard for me to love other people. It’s even harder for me to love myself.
I was driving home from work Monday evening and I had just angrily hung up the phone. A woman had called me from a company that did some work at my house a few years ago. I didn’t like the way the company was handling its business with me, but it was nothing personal with the woman.
The thing that annoyed me wasn’t her fault. She was just reading a script. She was doing her job. But I was in a bad mood — and I took out my frustrations on her.
I wasn’t nasty or rude, but I certainly wasn’t kind or loving.
As I drove the rest of the way down I-459 toward home, I stewed in my irritation, but my annoyance quickly turned toward myself. I wasn’t upset with that woman or her company.
I lectured myself about being a hypocrite. I berated myself about my unwillingness to live up to my values when it wasn’t convenient — when I wasn’t in the right mood.

Silly controversy over Cadillac ad reminds us we want different things
My programming from childhood still equates blame with shame
Do you obey petty rules? Or do you fight The Man in hopes of change?
Bias, incompetence or manipulation? Things aren’t always what they seem
Has my ‘insanely great’ servant slowly become a digital master?
Genetics, culture work together to drive us to pursue what we want
I haven’t learned to stop walking on eggshells around angry people
‘One more thing’ can never bring the peace we can have right now
HUMOR: The senator chooses whether to live in heaven or hell