Stop Staring at the Bruise

I went to school in a small town. Not quite Mayberry—we had two stoplights. Small town means small school. I went K-12 in the same building and graduated with a class of 77. That’s not even enough people to answer a Family Feud survey.

"Survey says: We couldn't find 100 people!"

It’s easy to bash my small town, because when you have something that small, the bad stuff is easier to target. But honestly? You only noticed the cracks because the foundation was actually solid.

We didn't have late-night Korean BBQ or the Eras Tour. We had the Show-Me Christmas Basketball Tournament and "The Library" (which, strictly speaking, dealt in domestic drafts, not Dewey Decimal). It wasn't that we were simple or lacked ambition; we just learned to be unbelievably grateful for what we had.

That "simple" label the world slaps on the Midwest? It’s just the mirror image of the confusion we feel looking at them. We're both looking across the divide thinking the exact same thing: Why do you live like this?

I’ve been fortunate to grow up in the woods and prairies of the Midwest, spend time in our largest cities, and even live abroad. And honestly? I guess my only question left is: Is there actually a "best" way to live?

Actually, I think that search for "best" is the trap.

It creates that same small-town problem all over again: holding a crisp apple but staring at the single bruise until you miss the fruit entirely. We get so obsessed with proving our apple is the cleanest that we forget to take a bite.

We spend so much time stuck in comparative living—measuring my "Library" against your Eras Tour. But comparison is just staring at the bruise.

The shift is simple: Stop poking the soft spots in someone else's life to make yours feel firmer. That is collaborative living. It’s realizing that the foundation is solid, even if the floor plan looks different than yours.

Word Count: ~285 words

Approximate Read Time: 1 minute, 15 seconds