I typically tell someone I’m sorry for something 3 to 4 times a day. Lately, though, I catch myself before I apologize. Because I’ve realized in truth I’m not sorry, not even at all, and I’m not even sorry I’m not sorry, either.
Are you like me? Do you also have a secret (or a few) you don’t want to tell anyone? I get it. I do. One reason we choose not to share with others the toxic Twinkies our shame-filled secrets are, is we think we know how people will feel about us if we disclose our darkness. Because of the unsavory way we feel about ourselves over our missteps.
The night my husband confessed his affair to me, I learned volumes about secrets; including why we attempt to keep them and the negative effects of doing so. At 2:00am, too wracked with gut-wrenching guilt over what he knew he needed to tell me, he hadn’t yet been to sleep. The terror of having to tell me what he’d done had wired his brain to static awake. Long before he found the courage to speak, his palpably anxious energy woke me. Upon hearing me stir, he haltingly declared, “Jodie, I have to tell you something.”
It had become obvious our friendship had suffered a significant setback, but I had no idea why. So I asked my friend. She told me nothing was wrong, if anything, it was her, not me. She said she’d just been so busy and under so much stress and she knew she’d been a terrible friend. She insisted she loved me so much and would try hard to show it better and she was so sorry she’d made me feel this way.
In effect, she gave me the runaround. I know it was the runaround because after that conversation things just got worse.
I don’t typically give advice, because I don’t really have any. But also and mostly because I don’t think people like to be told what to do. And in most contexts, I think ‘should’ is a dirty word. I don’t mind making a call to action when I see the need for one though, and this, this is that.
I read lots of books written by women for other women. Also, tons of female-authored blogs, articles, posts, social media shout-outs and shoe descriptions on Zappos. And I’ve noticed ladies I admire and respect write a lot about girlfriends. Specifically, how phenomenal theirs are. Like, SO PHENOMENAL. And something doesn’t sit right with me.