Not too many. I have secondary progressive MS but I am happy that people complain about me, so I don’t have to make complaints myself. I am proud when someone thinks I am bright and positive. I am, partly. I don’t complain too much. Next to that, I am regularly depressive and I am having fights with my family.
This morning I meditated on the voice of Edel Maex, a Belgian mindful psychiatrist. He spoke about the importance of mildness in mindfulness. I agree, mildness is very important. I’m being mild, about myself, about my dear ones, about my disease. I am being mild and sometimes I am not. Like I was mild when my mother gave me a new brush for the toilet. I didn’t know I needed a new one. It was a bit bigger than the one I had and it didn’t fit well either. But okay, I accepted the gift, being mild. My father decided to put the garbage somewhere else than where I put it. At his place it was more out of sight, so it would bother people around us less. I couldn’t see my garbage either and I forgot that there was any. I accepted the kind gesture. I was being mild.
Today I forgot to put the garbage outside for the dust cart. The garbage my father put somewhere else has been around the house for 3 months now. Today I wanted to use the toilet brush. It was stuck in the box. I pulled it out and my socks were wet with dirty water.
Mildness confused with acceptance
Mildness helps, I’m sure it helps. And sometimes I am afraid of the mistake of the confusion that it can be used as ‘acceptance’. Sometimes being irritated by something can help too. First lesson should be: be mild about yourself. Noboy’s perfect!