Old vs. new-rotic
Recently had a discussion about Being Sorry with a couple of friends.
For years, I’ve asked my mother-in-love not to bother apologizing for little stuff: not returning a call on the same day, not making a fancy enough meal.
She reminded me of my own sorry self.
Having a dignified, excruciatingly thoughtful relative apologize over trivia made me wonder if she was approaching her second childhood.
But my apologies are even more annoying. First, I forgot to exit childhood in the first place. And my not-so-original sorriness is nearly existential. Perhaps common in Catholics who took catechism literally?
‘Excuse my existence, I was born guilty”.
A lifetime of of reflexive apologizing has made me a little famous, for the wrong reason.
The nugget I gleaned from the talk the other night was: apologizing all the time is handing the other person the power to forgive, and the position of Judge. They might not want it (though most sadists would grab the opportunity, natch).
Why is this new to me?
Am I going senile?
The new thing is: do I want to be judged that badly?
This is probably not quite the bike blog you were expecting, but there you are.
The five year old brat who has never been evicted from the upstairs garret learned early on: apologize for everything, and collect fewer spankings. Plea bargain! Lie if you have to, but look sincere.
The guilt will come.