One of those things
I am careful with my upset. When it plops down next to me on the bench with all my other moods and emotions, I give it a good long look. I ask it where it comes from, what its purpose is. Whether there’s any substance to it or its just the left big toe of some other issue. Can I smile at it and send it packing, or is it telling me there’s something I need to do first? This approach, I think, is the upside of disliking conflict. It makes it hard to deal with this world though. The widespread global addiction to outrage we’re navigating takes everything I’ve got so when the otherwise delightful lady at work furiously lights up the message board when instructions are given that she doesn’t agree with, I find myself struggling more and more with the desire to withdraw. Where is the voice of reason? Where is the sense? What on earth did that accomplish? What good does any of it accomplish?