“Kindness is a weird and slippery thing.”
Sometimes I feel like kindness is confused with self-care—long walks and bubble baths. Time alone to watch TV. These things are part of kindness, sure. But such a small piece.
Sometimes kindness is kind words. Acknowledgment. Compassion. Maybe even self-love. Do I love myself? I think so. Mostly.
In my work life, sometimes I give myself more than kindness. And I too lenient here? Too self-forgiving? It still amazes me to receive good reviews with a little over half of my former energy.
I wonder where the old Miranda would be?
The one place I don’t struggle is in honoring my grief. In the love I give to both of my children. In this pure, authentic honesty. And although sometimes it is awkward, it is also the most important piece of kindness to me.
I am a mother to two children. And that fact deserves to be seen.
