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.

A warm and loving heart can finally turn to cold indifference
Slow death of painful past leaves me trapped in fog of depression
Social creatures: We heal each other, but start dying when alone
As a photographer, be prepared to doubt your talent every single day
Pretty much everyone shrugs at my most life-changing discovery
Before you can rescue other folks, you have to learn to save yourself
Want to really understand someone? Visit the places that shaped his past
A ‘faux father’ loves being adored, but a real father is there full-time
I quit striving to save the world and focused on changing myself