Stuff

I started working as a health care aide over a year ago now. I began my career at an assisted living complex where I went into people’s “homes” (rooms) and helped them get up, get ready and get on with their days. This particular establishment doesn’t insist on standardized beds, but allows people to bring in their own furniture. Though some have rooms that scream “recently purchased” at Bed, Bath and Benign, most of the contents have aged right along with their occupants. It’s not just their furniture, but their pictures, knickknacks, linens, and clothing, pretty much everything connected to them.
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On Insecurity

I’m insecure. I can hear it dribble out sometimes when I talk, like when you’ve come from the dentist and the freezing hasn’t subsided yet and you don’t know you’re drooling until you feel it on your chin. I catch myself trying to puff myself up ever so subtly and cringe on the inside. Why do I need to do that? I notice others doing it and say in my head, “that person is insecure just like me”. Usually, knowing that you’re not alone makes a person feel better, but I don’t in this case. It speaks to some lack in my relationship with God. Rather than being rooted firmly in the love he has for me and resting there, I’m anxious, eager for glances and superficial flattery from people I hardly know.
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