I get that saying you're sorry is an incredibly difficult thing sometimes. Apologizing to someone you care about, or even someone you've simply impacted in an inappropriate way, means having to admit your own shortcomings. And I don't mean for little things, like bumping into them or being sick and making some off-handed remark; I'm talking about the truly hurtful things people do to one another.
When you hurt someone one, it usually boils down to one of two things: you were either careless and just didn't realize it would happen, or you had to make the conscious decision to inflict the damage. Even if the damage was unintentional or unavoidable, you still had to make the choice to act in such a way that was inflicting.
Today I'm on a rant about people who refuse to acknowledge or accept their accountability in the hurt they cause other people. An, "I'm sorry, but...," simply doesn't cut it. It doesn't go far enough in accepting your own role in that damage, in showing any kind of credibility—to others or to yourself. Blanket apologies, "I'm sorry for whatever I did," really aren't any better.
I've been on both sides of the hurt, certainly. I have done egregious things to others, on both a large and small scale. I'm positive I've never always had the opportunity to make amends, even if that was nothing more than letting the other person yell at me and tell me all the ways in which I've hurt and angered them. But I try to be cognizant of my actions and repair damage where I can.
Sometimes, though, I need to be on the other end of that. I need an uninterrupted moment to explode and spew forth all the pent-up vitriol, directed at the person who's hurt me. And, maybe selfishly, I feel like I deserve that opportunity, to really let them know and feel a bit of what they've done.
The people who know me best know damn well that my middle name should've been Spite. Really, you don't ever want to start a war like that with me; I don't play fair, and I can be horribly vindictive. But I try very, very hard to rein that in and not let it dictate how I respond to hurt. It would be easy to slip into those dark patterns of lashing retribution, but, ultimately, it does me no good. The equal and opposite reaction is more pain, self-inflicted and necrotic. I know that living a tit-for-tat life will do nothing but send me spiraling into some ugliness that only serves to prolong the agony.
So I try a little harder every day not to let it swallow me, not to let it control how I live my life. I have a thousand other good things to focus on, and I work very hard to tap the energy of those raw emotions and find a way to let them be productive. I don't always succeed, in which case I do my best to let it go.
But sometimes I would just like to be able to throw things at the asshats, like a cabbage or a stack of throwing stars fashioned from old CD's. It's not productive, I know, but it would sure as Hell make me feel better, at least for a little while.
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