I never was a good person. I wasn't even a bad person either. I drifted between both, I guess. I had been told as a child that I was a bad person because I wasn't what my parents wanted me to be. Because I was unhappy in an unhappy home, I became moody, cranky and even bad tempered. That led to me being frequently called a grouchy kid, a bitch, and that I had a nasty attitude.

I would try to prove that I was a good person. That made me eager to please others and also convince myself that I was good. Sometimes I would do nice things just to seem nice so no one would say that I was mean. I 'd feel guilty when I did that because that meant my niceness was not genuine.

Well, this past weekend, someone thanked me from the bottom of her heart for a kind gesture I did a couple of weeks ago. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, but it wasn't from total goodness. However, she saw me as a genuine good person, and I could not ignore that. I had to take into consideration that maybe I am indeed a true good person.

Today, I was feeling stressed and a little depressed. I found myself blaming others for my problems. During my rage, I briefly imagined attacking my own mother in order to get even with her. I even made her cry in that brief vision. That made me snap and say to myself, "what the hell is going on here?"

Am I a total bad person?

Do I have any goodness in me?

How can I even think to hurt my own mother, even if it was only done during a fit?

I couldn't ignore that thought. It came somewhere deep within me and it wasn't something to shrug off. I had to learn to calm myself down, and be kind to myself of all people. I am trying to learn to nurture and look after myself, so soothing myself emotionally is a very new thing for me.

As I calmed myself down from this rage, I realized that I do have the ability to be kind not only to myself, but to others. And it can be authentic.

I guess this is what it means that genuine kindness can only come from within, not out of desperation.