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I've actually had an interesting week of sorts.

I'm sort of sick of people and the way they define others.  Just because someone reads a page on this blog, or sees me not quite at my best, doesn't mean they know me. Just because something frustrating happens doesn't mean I let it ruin my entire day.  I am not a day on this blog.  I am not a mood that lasts all of 1 hour.  I am not a disease. I am not lonely.  I am not anything you think I am.

In fact, I like to think of myself as undefined.  Someone once said I was mysterious.  What is it about human nature that we have to define people?  I am amazed what people will argue about with total strangers.  It is staggering how you can't even say what you feel anymore without someone correcting your thoughts. It's kind of frustrating to me.  I guess it all comes down to ego. We somehow have this need to one up each other.  If someone has a story to tell, it never fails, someone has a better one.  I think social media just makes this worse.

Another experience I had was interesting. I met someone who said they really didn't think Sam was a good kid until quite sometime after they had been around him.  I asked why that was the case.  They didn't really have one good reason...single mom, he has a friend who had made some mistakes and they assumed that Sam made the same mistake.  He didn't.  He was not all deserving of these judgments.  Interestingly, their opinion changed when they found out that Sam had volunteered to help one of their elderly family members with yard work.  It wasn't a group activity, or an assignment, it was a personal choice Sam made on his own.

I get so tired of people making assumptions.  This has happened over and over.  They think because all three of my kids have DC we must be miserable.  It is even worse when we have a run of hospital trips and rough times.  They think all we do is sit around and wait to die.  We have been stereotyped because kids from single mom's never amount to anything.

We aren't any of these things.  We are a happy, well adjusted family. My kids aren't perfect and they screw up all the time.  I am not perfect.  I screw up more than they do!  We continually try to be better.  Yes, life is hard but it isn't bad.  It's just hard.  Hard is good.  Hard is when we learn and grow.  Yes, I have a mountain of problems but I have a mountain of blessings too.

I think we need to try a little harder to see each other in the best possible light.  We may not agree with or love the things that people around us do.  We may not share in the same perspective but we can try to remember that it is their truth, their story, their journey.  This is a lesson as much for me.  I let people get to me more than I should.  I need to let the toxic people in my life go.  It's that simple.

I am proud of my kids for rising above the stereotypes, and for not letting their disease define them or limit them no matter how hard it is.



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