One of my biggest pet peeves is to be misunderstood. That gets under my skin like few things do. Why? I’m not sure, but I do know (now) that the more it bothers me the more I find myself in situations from time-to-time where I’m bothered. Maybe it’s the journalist in me or the fact that my parents allowed our feelings to be shared or not understanding how what seems so to me seems foreign to others. I just want my voice to be heard whether you agree or not and I’d prefer you agree, especially if it’s something affecting me.
Anywho, last month I returned to the land of four eyes, donning glasses for the first time since my miraculous healing and return to 20/20 over a decade ago. My trifecta of stylish specs has sharpened my sight for things close up. So now, rather than stretching my arm out like a rubber figure from the 70s I can see clearly when I read. My focus and view are on fleek.
The same is so, I now see, in others. Now, don’t get me wrong, some people are just plain mean and don’t care to see or accept another’s point of view. Others, however, simply don’t share the same focus, insight, vision or perspective.
That’s a hard pill to swallow especially when the unshared or unwelcomed receipt of my point of view is from someone who matters to me. Oh well…at least I can see.