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.

Almost all of us feel alienation if we don’t find a place to call home
Who were you before someone told you who you were supposed to be?
Without motivation, dreams fade,
You’re wrong! And if you don’t agree with me, you’re an evil, lying moron
With millions jobless, U.S. companies struggle to find skilled workers
Banning access to guns won’t prevent the evil in human hearts
Kind words can make difference for stressed parents at Christmas
Why do presidents and candidates bother to release tax returns?
What are you likely to regret when it’s too late to change?