“Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
Safe to say we’ve all heard that from the Burning Bush in our lives?
More than once?
Can I have a show of hands?
Okay. You can put your hands down now.
There is one simple question I ask myself when honestly considering the accuracy of such an accusation:
“If I heard the same story as mine – even just a short portion of it –
being told by someone else, no matter what kind thorough asshole they might bewould I feel sorry for them?”
Then I ask myself a second and possibly more important question:
“Why should I cut some other asshole more slack than I cut myself?”
Now “pity” is another story altogether.
If the story I heard from a total stranger involved something of their own doing or thinking or not doing or not thinking, and it could easily have been avoided with a modicum of prudence and foresight …
that would be pitiful.
I would have pity for them, and that is not an either sympathetic or empathetic response on my part. It’s actually somewhat a slap in their face.
If the story I told myself involved something of my own doing or thinking or not doing or not thinking, and it could easily have been avoided with a modicum of prudence and foresight …
that would be equally pitiful.
Doesn’t mean I would have pity for myself.
I’m just not coordinated enough to slap myself in the face and kick myself in the ass at the same time.
