All Apology

I never used to apologize.

As an Army brat, I moved around a lot, and I was often the new kid.  For those not in the know, being the new kid equals being fodder for the bullies.  I got picked on quite a bit, and I had to grow a hard shell rather quickly.  Part of my defense system involved the idea that I shouldn't have to apologize for anything because I was always right.  Freud probably would have had a field day with all the meaning behind that, but I was just an oversensitive kid trying to get through my day without getting pummeled or ending up with a wedgie. We all do what we have to do to survive.  

So I never apologized for anything, back in the day.  To apologize meant that I was wrong, and back then, I was never wrong.  Never.  Not once.  Oh, people often tried to tell me that I was wrong.   A boy named Tyler told me that I was wrong that cold sores were herpes, for example.  I lovingly wrote a research paper on the subject, put it into an envelope with lots of hearts drawn carefully on it, and gave it to him right in front of a crowd of his friends.  Of course, he never spoke to me again, but since he usually insulted me, I wasn't that upset.

College is a great place for epiphanies, there among all those books and that whole learning thing.  My great epiphany in college was that I needed to admit it when I was wrong.  I should be strong enough, and smart enough, to be able to take responsibility and admit my faults, as terrible as they might be. So I started to say that I was sorry more often. 

But a funny thing happened when I started to apologize more often--I felt worse, not better.  I felt less than, not equal. Why was this?  Because many of the things I was apologizing for weren't things that I did, but were parts of who I was.  I wasn't ladylike enough?  Sorry.  I don't smile enough? So sorry. I wasn't perky?  Sorry.  I hate math?  Sorry for that as well.  A person can only take so many of those kinds of apologies before they are reduced to nothingness. Another epiphany:  I'm a person, not a doormat. 

I've grown up quite a bit since then.It has been a work in progress, this letting go of the need to be right and learning to apologize. My husband has been a big help.  I have learned to ask forgiveness for things I've done wrong. I've learned to say that I'm wrong, and mean it. I'm still horrible at understanding nonverbal cues, and I miss things.  I don't always have to be right anymore, and that sometimes I am flat out wrong, and that the world doesn't end in either case.  I learn from the experience, and I grow.  





1.) The last time you apologized to someone was for...

Epiphany

"...So if you're tired of the same old story, oh baby, turns some pages..."

I love this song. I've heard this song a kajillion times since the album came out, so much so that I usually don't even hear it when it plays on the radio. Then one day, when I was standing in one of the valleys in my life, this song was playing. That line just stood out, like it played at a louder volume than the rest of the song.

An epiphany is, according to dictionary.com, "a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience." This is what occurred. I had an epiphany.

It was like the Hand of God reached down and slapped me upside the head, and I finally understood what that lyric meant. That day I realized that we never have to keep to the same path we start on. We can change our direction, choose a new destination, go another way. If we find ourselves on the road to ruin, as they say, we are not bound to stay on that road--we can exit to the left or to the right or even turn around completely.

We are only stuck if we allow ourselves to be. If you are tired of the same old story...turn the page and start a new story. Maybe even one you write yourself.