Topic of the Day

Why Saying I'm Sorry Just About Kills Me

The words 'I'm sorry' are often tools that successfully mend everything from broken hearts to broken glass to broken promises and forgotten vows. Can you imagine how many times a day these two words are spoken by humanity, my guess is as much or more than 'I love you'. I think it's safe to assume we screw up on a regular basis, it's a flaw we all have, some more than others. I'm sorry has fixed more than Elmer's glue I think. It's a powerful healing tool.

That being said, say those words, for me, are like vomiting razor blades. I hate it. I do everything I can to avoid having to say those words. When I have to suck it up and do it, I feel as if I'm starting to hyperventilate, my heartbeat speeds up, I start sweating and feel like there's a frog stuck in my throat. And when that happens I have to wonder, is it even worth it?

Of course it is. I'm not a total idiot.

Even knowing that I still don't say it half the time I probably should. The funny part about it is, I should say it a lot, cuz I really screw up a lot. I can't imagine what it is like for Ox to put up with this flaw. Poor guy. Now if I accidentally step on your toe I have no problem saying it. But if I step on your heart, that's another story. In other words, I buckle in clutch time.

Here's how it goes: I say something very snotty and uncalled for which spawns Ox to say something equally hurtful, which makes me madder...and so on. Before we know it we have both crossed the line of what is appropriate in even a productive argument. We have gone way past trying to work out the problem and into saying whatever it takes to simply make the person feel like crap. Keeping in mind, at these times I am the one who definitely started it. (Not that I start every argument, but I am responsible for a fair share).

So, I'm now fuming and hate his guts and can't stand to see his face because he's an insensitive jerk who has successfully made me teeter the homicidal line. I storm off. All the while I can't believe the nerve that jerk to say those meanful things to me. I can't believe I married such a beast.

I sit for several moments, stewing in my hatred. I've locked the door, otherwise that animal will barge in and insist on talking (the nerve!!). I'm ranting to myself. As the moments pass I begin to calm and think more rationally. I'm going over in my head the things that were said and who did what and when and why. It begins to dawn on me that, perhaps, I had actually started the awful thing and am responsible for turning it into something it didn't need to be, had I kept my mouth shut. Damn. I hate that. So I'm contemplating making it right. I know all I need to do is to holler for him and to say those two words, 'I'm sorry.'

But do I do it? No, I don't. I know I should. I feel like pond scum and really am sorry I did it. I love him and want him to like me again. Yet, I say nothing.

Eventually he comes into the room and do I show my pain and sorrow? No, I feign still being pissed at what a louse he is. I glare and ignore him. Say you're sorry, for crying out loud!! (I'm thinking). Yet I have no control over myself. I'm another kind of being that will be struck with some vial disease if I say the words 'I'm sorry.' Those words are death to my kind, otherwise I'd say it for sure. So, I continue to pout pathetically.

This is where he is sits next to me quietly and begins to mend ties that I broke. He's sorry, he's an ass, he shouldn't have said those things, he's wrong and please don't be mad. Damn right! Ok, he did it first, it is now ok for me to say it too, and I do. He then tells me there's no need for me to be sorry, so I'm not. But deep down I really am. I forgive him.

At this time I realize he really is the better man in these instances. He apologizes first whether he screwed up or not. And for a brief moment I feel like a total ass. I know I was bitchy and shouldn't have let him be the one to end the argument. And I ask my self why I can't just suck it up once in a while and say I'm sorry, when it really is my fault.

It's a character flaw that I'm acknowledging and hence trying to work on my talking about it. Of course, the above analysis is only relevent to arguments where I am the bigger bully. Trust me, there are plenty when I am not and he should be apologizing first. But that's another day. For now, I'm working on this. I have babbled incessantly for several paragraphs now and for that....

I'm sorry....
Sissy