I have an illness and its name is nice. Show me someone who needs help----a little emotional uplift or personal assistance, and I'm right there. No drama is too large for this girl.
I used to believe it was part of my "self-contained package," if you will. I believed it was my ability to take care of myself without much support from others. Well, I don't think so any longer. In fact, I now believe I'm a classic co-dependent.
Isn't it interesting that we (that is presuming anyone else at my age is still discovering oneself) could still open up a door to our personality at the ripe old age of 40-----to open up that door and feel its newness amidst familiarity and recognize its contents as if finally, the correct lenses have been placed upon our eyes to look about the room.
That's me, the terminally nice. I must work on that. But to what extent? I like being nice. I like helping others. I guess that's where my work en-lies: where to draw that line.
Have you discovered yourself lately?
