I interrupt our regularly scheduled Blog Me MAYbe
programming for something that’s near and dear to my heart. (No, it’s not the
pulmonary artery, you wise-ass.) It’s, well, I’ll let the lovely CarolinaValdez Miller*—mastermind behind this project—tell you:
Too often kindness is relegated to a random act performed
only when we’re feeling good. But an
even greater kindness (to ourselves and others) occurs when we reach out even
when we aren’t feeling entirely whole. It’s not easy, and no one is perfect.
But we’ve decided it’s not impossible to brighten the world one smile, one kind
word, one blog post at a time. To that end, a few of us writers have
established The Kindness Project, starting with a series of inspirational
posts.
Warning #1: I want to start off by telling you that I don’t
even consider myself in the top 80 percent of kind people in the world. I’m
not, you know, terrorist-level mean or anything, but I generally don’t go
around pouring syrup on people’s pancakes, if you will.
Warning #2: I’m going to get all serious on you here. If
that freaks you out, have fun here or here. (You might want to click those anyway.)
Glad we got that cleared up.
I’ve mentioned this before, but nearly two years ago, I was
diagnosed with EM, a rare chronic pain condition that’s changed my life. This
past year, as the EM worsened, I’ve been trying to get a handle on how to meld
the life I knew with this new, painful one.
Most days I’m good. But then there are those other days, the
ones where my feet burn for 12 hours straight and I can’t focus and I think
about doing this for another 60 years and I, well, I break down.
Sometimes, though, someone—a friend, an acquaintance, a
stranger—will do the smallest thing and it’s like, bam, there’s light in the
darkness.
Over the weekend I got a letter from my mom’s college friend, who’d heard about my EM. Her letter told the story of her mother, whose siblings were taken to a state sanitarium when they were diagnosed with tuberculosis. The state trapped them there for eight years—no contact with friends or family, no life outside the hospital. Her uncle spent 23 hours a day on bed rest, only seeing the outside when his nurse wheeled his bed out to the porch.
Over the weekend I got a letter from my mom’s college friend, who’d heard about my EM. Her letter told the story of her mother, whose siblings were taken to a state sanitarium when they were diagnosed with tuberculosis. The state trapped them there for eight years—no contact with friends or family, no life outside the hospital. Her uncle spent 23 hours a day on bed rest, only seeing the outside when his nurse wheeled his bed out to the porch.
And then one day, someone found a cure. The sanitarium’s
doors were unlocked and the kids were freed.
She wrote me a letter to tell me a story to show me that
research is ever advancing, that I shouldn’t give up hope that EM could one day
be cured. And that simple act? Writing a short letter? It made all the
difference.
The reason I joined The Kindness Project is because I know how
random acts of kindness can take away the sting, promote confidence, and give
hope. To live a life of purposeful kindness? Imagine what that can do.
Posting today for The Kindness Project:
Be sure to check them
out. We post the second Wednesday of every month. Want to join us? Grab
our button and spread a little kindness.
*Speaking of kind, Carol is seriously the nicest, most selfless person I know. It’s fitting this is her brainchild.
*Speaking of kind, Carol is seriously the nicest, most selfless person I know. It’s fitting this is her brainchild.
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