When I was around nine years old, I read a short story called “He Was Sorry For Himself”. (It’s in Enid Blyton’s “The Flyaway Money and Other Stories”). That little story was my most favorite in the whole collection, basically because the title was so odd. The arrangement of those words obviously made it very catchy.
However, looking back now, I realize the real reason I enjoyed it so much was because I had no idea what it meant to feel sorry for yourself. I thought it was just something a fictional character could only feel (God knows what other crazy thought I had), and I constantly made fun of the poor kid because of the stupid things he worried about.
But now as a teen, I’ve come to the ugly realization that I’m always feeling sorry for myself. Even more so than the boy who did in the short story. And it’s terrible. Self-pitying breaks you down to pieces and makes you compare your life to others and blame yourself for certain things that have happened to you and to others. Sometimes it happens so suddenly it takes forever to recover. Isn’t it true? Correct me if I’m wrong.
This sort of progressive self-destruction makes me forget the goodness of the Lord and what He has done for me: giving me a family, an education, food within my reach every single day, two legs, two arms, two eyes, two ears, you get the drill. It’s amazing! It’s the kind of stuff we all take for granted. And yet, when something happens to even the smallest part of our body, we realize how much work it does to keep us alive every second; how much it means to the body.
It just blows you away. Kapooosh.
I need to stop bashing myself for freezing up on stage that one time. Yes, it was entirely embarrassing, but it’s the past. It’s time to smile and appreciate the amazing things that have happened to me. You should too! You’ll realize that you have a lot more to be thankful for than to be ashamed of.
Disclaimer: I do not own that photo.