Why is it so easy to be mean to those we love the most? Once we get comfortable, that wall of self censorship completely disappears.
I’ll give you a perfect example. I like to have lights on. Bright lights that you can see from the next town over.
Rodney hates lights. His eyes are very sensitive to them, so he likes me to turn them off whenever possible.
Tonight, I left the kitchen light on. I was in the living room, but I left the light on anyway because I like for it to pour in.
Rodney poked his head downstairs and said “Why is the kitchen light on?”
“Because I want it on,” I replied. I’m ashamed to admit, but that’s a terribly sarcastic, even childish response. My Dad talks the same way to my Mom. I don’t like it when he does that, and now I do the same thing to Rodney.
What I should have said was “Well, honey, I like for it to be on and since you’re upstairs, I figured it wouldn’t bother your eyes.”
Next time I start to say something rude to someone I love, I’ll pretend they are someone I’ve just met and show all the charm and warmth that I provide to perfect strangers. I’ll work on this.
UPDATE: Tonight Rodney asked me why I switched the cat bowls. “Because I wanted to…” I replied, quickly catching myself. I corrected myself by explaining why the other one was better, and he noticed. 