Why Are Acts of Kindness Uncomfortable for Me?

As I sat in the drive thru waiting behind the weave of cars, feeling inpatient because I was thinking about work. Trying to be early, yet wishing I was going anywhere else, I didn't know I would experience a small moment. A pause for thought.

Medium hot coffee, three cream. Yes, I know. Very exciting. A routine. Always a routine with me.

But today, it was different. A stranger, not sure why, decided to buy the coffee for the second car behind. An act of kindness.

And this is where I stop to consider my reaction. Of course, I was surprised. Grateful. And then I felt guilty. Yup, I started to cry. I didn't think I deserved it.

Weird reaction to a three-dollar coffee. When did my self-worth become all about giving and never receiving, feeling guilty about needing or receiving anything from anyone? Trying to answer this question as I write makes my chest tighten, my fingers tingle, and I am struggling to keep on.

Introspection is a bitch. So why am I still writing?

Because apparently Take Two means I don't get to hide from the uncomfortable stuff. I may not have thought this through.

For today, I need to stop.

Still counts.