Do you have memories that make you cringe?

 I do. 

They stay hidden away in the attic, rattling around in the dark until something causes them to wake up and come back, 

awkward with their presence.

Most of these memories are small, but some are doozies. 

Many are what I call my “Bridget Jones moments”, the type of situation that would be funny if it were happening in a movie, or better yet, to someone else. 

The kind of moment that leaves you praying no one saw it.

I remember these times with a grateful heart that Social media wasn’t around when I was creating them. I see others today, with their dirty laundry spread out on the clothes line of Facebook or instagram and watch their mortification become viral, 

their lives destroyed for the enjoyment of others.

I am happy my life isn’t something that is fascinating to anyone other than possibly my loved ones, depending on the day.

 I have no famous friends, no luxurious wealth or fame to draw the eyes of the uncaring,

 the individuals who enjoy schadenfreude and the destruction of others.

But I also worry when I see these moments arrayed like the bon bons of Peg Bundy for mass consumption. Is the world a worse place now, or do we just see the indifference and the spite of others towards those they have no connection to on a larger forum? 

Strangers in a strange land?

Are embarrassing moments among friends and family part of the fabric that makes us feel close to each other? Is it possible that the moments that make us cringe also glue us together with shared experiences, for good or bad?

And if so, why does this glue become deadly when spread out over the world? Instead of glue, a corrosive acid that tears strangers apart? Destroys far beyond the nature of the transgression?

The dose makes the poison 

I keep this in mind as I mindlessly scroll, watching the moments of others with a kind heart and justifications.

Do unto others includes social media, even if you never see them in reality. 

Kindness costs nothing, but the effects are priceless