My friends, maybe I worry too much.
I am pretty forgiving to myself. I get everything wrong. I botch most of what I do. I say things that I shouldn't. I give up too soon. I get too lazy. I get this intimate, front row seat to every little flaw I have.
And then I forgive myself for most of it. I've made friends with myself. We get along despite my many and varied shortcomings and my apparent schizophrenia because I am speaking about myself as if there were two of me.
Just me. All bundled up into one, imperfect package.
What I don't forgive myself for very readily is hurting anyone else.
I simmer and stew and grow more and more agitated toward my poor, unsuspecting family when I think I've upset anyone unintentionally. And I promise with all my heart that unintentionally is the only way I would ever hurt someone.
So, if anything I have said has made you weep instead of laugh, I really and truly apologize.
I am trying to make fun of myself and my life and not insult anybody else.
One of my best friends on earth is a woman in her fifties with five great kids, a huge heart and a saucy sense of humor. She taught me that it is okay to laugh at ourselves, and when we do it with love, okay to laugh at each other. It reminds us not to get too wrapped up in our egos.
So if I bumped into your ego and left any bruises, I hope you forgive me.
I will still be my imperfect, politically incorrect self on this blog, because that is the only self I know how to be.
I hope we can keep laughing about it - together.