Yikes, it's been a while and I'm kind of sorry but at the same time I'm not because this writing thing has all it's purpose and being in my whimsy.
On another note, I did something extremely stupid and irresponsible the other day that really hurt one of my coworkers. This is something that I think I do pretty consistently (though never on this grand of a scale) which drives me crazy because I know the message people get from it is that I don't care about them or what's going on and this is very rarely the case; as a matter of fact, it is the complete opposite. I have a tendency to care so much about and get so wrapped up in the people I am presently with and the moment I am currently in that everything else that happened before or should happen later recedes into the fuzzy background of my subconscious and is rarely brought back into the front of my mind when it should be. I can try to soften this unfortunate reality with fluffy adages like, "It's the thought that counts," but I know that when people say that, they means, "It's what they think you're thinking that counts."And this is a truth of life and people and relationships that I am willing to admit simply and without resentment. Our intentions will count for little if they remain intentions and do not become an actual living reality for others.
I say all this to emphasize that point that I have a very acute sense of guilt, especially, if not singularly, when I know I've wounded someone (what else is there to feel guilt about?), which may explain why I am awake at some ridiculous hour of the night writing an apology letter to this coworker of mine. When I wrapped up this letter and signed my name just a moment ago, I couldn't help but sadly reflect on past incidents where other people may have been similarly hurt by my apparent lack of respect and value for them. I couldn't help but think that perhaps this letter was one of hundreds that should be written. And then I thought, and this startled me, Will I be doing for the rest of my life? Will I forever be apologizing and feeling such remorse for this behavior of mine?
My initial reaction was, Damn, I hope not. And while this may sound rather irreverent and abrupt for this heart-probing confession, let me unpack that statement a little bit. I find it a little too ironic and convenient that this particular character flaw of mine should bother me so much right now as it stands against the backdrop of our recent discussions about character growth at Ada and my reading through Eat, Pray, Love, the memoir of a woman who travels the world seeking experiences in spiritual discipline and healing. This conviction, framed by these circumstances, has set the inclination in my heart for metamorphosis, the belief that I should transform, that I was meant to transform, that I can transform because people have gone before me and done it.
This is not a Damn, I hope I never have to apologize again, or a Damn, I hope I don't have the endure anymore uncomfortable, stretching situations like this.
This is a Damn, I hope that, when I look back on this episode months or years from now, I'll be able to say that I am different, that I am changed, or at least that I am changing and on my way to becoming different. I hope that I will be able to say that I have made my well-meaning intentions into a genuine truth that protects, affirms and values the people I interact with.
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