Three Nice Things about Myself -- Day 6

My blogging buddy, Kwizgiver, wrote a post that really resonated with me. She detailed how self-care helped her helped her prevail during a (ridiculously) tough month. Her tips were very wise and so doable! So she has inspired me to take one and integrate it into my own life.

Since I can be a pretty harsh self-critic, this is the one I chose. I hope I can do this every day during March. By then it should be a habit, right?

Three nice things about myself -- March 6:

1) I wasn't a bitch. Both my friend Elaine and I find ourselves exasperated by Betty, also in our movie group. Betty is over 60, attractive but mature. She cannot resist mentioning to us that she was Miss Chintatown Chicago back in the day. That day was decades ago, and it's not like it was a national title. And it really seldom comes up organically in conversation. Betty has to shoe-horn it in, which she always manages to do. Anyway, she sent me a video of her teenage self singing in the Miss Chinatown Chicago talent portion. She found a tape of it, had it converted to DVD, played it on her TV, filmed it with her phone, and texted it to me. How very Betty! I have never once expressed interest in this, mind you. I was dying to share it with Elaine, along with a snarky comment. But I didn't. I reminded myself that it seems the highlight of her life happened when she was a teen. Maybe sharing it with me made her feel closer to me, which is something of a compliment, right? Instead of forwarding it, I responded by saying I didn't know she could sing, and that her daughters must love seeing her so young and beautiful. Betty thanked me profusely. I like myself for how I handled this.

2) I didn't hit "send." Similarly, I wasn't bitchy to my oldest friend. Though I wanted to be. Her last two emails were silly, superficial affairs that read more like those mass letters you get in a Christmas card than real correspondence between close friends. She annoys the shit out of me when she's like this. I started to tell her that if she doesn't want to talk, then don't, but don't bother me with this drivel. Instead I just deleted her email and my reply. I love her. I liked myself for remembering that and curbing my tongue. (Or fingertips.)

3) I didn't just sit here. I signed up to write more postcards encouraging Democrats to vote in the fall. I like that I'm not one of those people who just yells at the TV when I don't like the news.