We may clutch at another excuse for avoiding an inventory. Our present anxieties and troubles, we cry, are caused by the behavior of other people–people who really need a moral inventory. We firmly believe that if only they’d treat us better, we’d be all right. Therefore we think our indignation is justified and reasonable–that our resentments are the “right kind.” We aren’t the guilty ones. They are!
Happily, I really haven’t been treated badly in my life. I mean I can and do blame my mother for stuff, but really I’ve had it very easy.
I can blame other people for causing my excess of negative emotion though.
My blog has seen me through several presidential elections at this point. I’ve been hopeful and happy and crushed. I’ve been privileged to say alcohol has not played a part if my coping mechanisms or celebrations since my very first election, when Reagan first won. As my grandfather had just died and I was at his visitation when I heard Carter had conceded, announced by my mother’s husband, well it all just fit…….
Now, I have trouble understanding voters on the other side of this debacle. I cannot understand them. I don’t know why mocking a reporter who has a disability was not a disqualified. I don’t.
I do understand that intolerance is a character defect of mine. It’s not pretty and it isn’t righteous. The behavior of those who support what I consider to be unsupportable can’t make me turn away from what is ugly and rotten in me. I am the guilty one. If they are, or if they aren’t, that isn’t my concern.
I was recently at a meeting when someone commented that, when making amends, apologizing for “my part” is really pointing out that you have a part as well. And that’s not what I’m here for. It is never about them, it is always about me. That’s the only thing I can change, so that’s the only place I can find real hope.