I have two drafts posts here on Canvas [okay, I actually have more than two but those two are… particularly difficult]. I’ve been meaning to finish them for a while. I started one back in May and the other one a bit more than a month ago. I tried again just now. Read the first one, couldn’t bring myself to write anything. Closed that tab, went to the other, felt myself being triggered again. Closed that tab too.
So, I’m going to write about something that has been bothering me for a while instead.
I have come to realize I am very judgmental.
And I don’t like it.
Now, if you’ve met me in person, you know that I am pretty much the same in real life as I am here. Which is friendly, smiley and bubbly. I am definitely the kind of person that “counts their blessings” instead of focusing on what they don’t have.
I am also helpful, compassionate, understanding. I am the kind of person that will bend over backwards to help friends and strangers alike. If it is in my power to help in any way – big or small, I will do it.
I am mostly charitable too. And there’s where the line starts to become blurry. Cause, you see, sometimes is very easy to be charitable. Take your loved ones, for example. It is easy to be charitable to them because, well… you love them. People that are nice to you? It is easy to cut them some slack.
But then, there are the people you don’t know personally. People you don’t know if they are nice people or bad people. You don’t know what they’ve been through. That’s the real test. Can one be charitable to/non-judgmental of those people?
I have a lot of trouble being charitable and/or compassionate about certain things. But I find it very hard to not get judgmental about say, parents who abuse their children. Spouses who abuse their life partners. People who are racist. Extremists of any kind. Things like that. I find it impossible not to judge those people.
During my rotation at the Pediatric ER, it was not uncommon to admit little patients who had been abused. All kinds of abuse.
Corporal punishment type of abuse was very common. Broken bones. Burnt hands. I always wanted to kill the parents. I had no compassion whatsoever for them. One of my professors used to tell me that I had to understand that most abusive parents are abusive to their children because they were abused children too. Still, I could not relate. Still, I judged them. Still, I had no compassion for them.
One might say, well, those are extreme cases. But, where does one draw the line, then?
For example, I can’t help but be very judgmental of parents (or care givers) who smoke in the presence of children. Yes, smoking is an addiction, I know. But second-hand smoke can and most likely will make them sick. One could say this is not an extreme case. I still can’t help it. I judge them.
It doesn’t feel good. Judging doesn’t bring anything good. Judging doesn’t help anything. Judging doesn’t solve anything.
And yet, I judge.
* I initially titled this post “Thou Shalt Not Judge” but it sounded a tad too biblical for me so I changed it. Let it not be said that the SSG has messianic delusions.
** You may find this strange but I throw bloggers I interact with into the “people I know” pile. So there.
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