Judging.
Sometimes when it’s nice out, I sit in the courtyard of my apartments and play on my laptop. There’s this family that lives in an apartment by the table where I sit. The very pregnant mother is always outside smoking while her other kids (I’ve counted three so far) run around barefoot in outfits that are usually combinations of pajamas and swimsuits.
{ snip }I find myself facing a moral dilemma with the thoughts I have about this family. I consider myself an open-minded, liberal, non-judgmental person. But I will freely admit that I judge the hell out of that woman and the way she’s raising her kids.
{ snip }I don’t know this woman’s story. She could be doing whatever she has to do to provide for her kids. She might come from a place where loan stores and a parade of strange men and daytime drinking and smoking while pregnant and letting kids run wild half-dressed is just the way things are.
I thank whatever forces have saved me from being in similar circumstances. Then I tell myself that even if I were in her shoes I’d be nothing like her.
I judge her. And I feel bad.
The internal conflict here is interesting. Just from what you’ve said, I find it hard not to place judgment on this woman. So many times I’ve thought “I’ll never be like *that* person.” but in my heart of hearts, I realize I’m just as flawed.
It seems like you’ve struck up a rapport with one of the young girls. Why not introduce yourself to the woman and get to know her? It sounds like she may be in need of some compassion. You might be just the person to offer it to her.
