louder

Why is it that the horrible stuff is easier to believe than the good?

Why IS that? I just don’t know.

Lovely people who love you as much as you love them back can tell you that you’re smart and creative and make them hiccup.laugh, that you rock a great pony.tail (one of those ones that swiiish and make you want to walk from side to side so yours will do the same), that you’re a better wall.paper.er than anyone they know, that you cook a mean meatball and that really, come to think of it, you’re one of the people they would most likely choose to share a glass of wine and a gentle Sunday afternoon.

But then some mean.black.cloud comes along and tells you that you could have done better with that report, that you’re thoughtless and selfish, that you used too much butter, that your presentation lacked punch, that your nose is wonky, that you answer the phone in a weird voice or that you just don’t live up to some Arbitrary Unknown (to you) Standard.

And there you are. Reduced. Depleted. Less than.

How can we make the Good Stuff speak louder? I’m not sure.