With Yom Kippur just behind us – the time to take stock and atone for the transgressions of the past year, I got to thinking about the act of “asking forgiveness.” After, hopefully, an honest evaluation, I am proud to report that I am pretty good at saying “I’m sorry.” I may even excel at it. At this age, I don’t mind being in the wrong. I’ve had a lot of practice.
For me, apologizing can be a great relief, if not downright pleasurable. What could be more liberating than saying “I’m sorry”? With just a few heartfelt words of contrition, an outreach of genuine remorse, you get to throw off that wretched guilt and feel better. It always does the trick. It’s healing.
I’ve known this instinctively for some time which is why I’ve always envied Catholics. I’ve envied them for their school uniforms too – a brilliant solution, I concluded in the 7th grade, to the angst of the teen clothes’ competition as well as the dilemma of making dress decisions at 6:00 am. A uniform would certainly have simplified my life. As for weekly confession – well, who can argue the health benefits of wiping the slate clean on a weekly basis? Sorry Rabbi, but it’s much better than just once a year. Hail Mary.
Religion aside, I became very good at the art of the apology when I became a mother. I can’t remember the first time I apologized to my daughter, the age she was or what I’d done, but I remember the twinge of humiliation I had to overcome to get the words out. Sometimes it took a day or even two to get up the nerve, to swallow my “mother knows best” pride and come clean. It wasn’t easy.
After all, there was no precedent for it. I had no role model. My parents did not apologize to their children, period. Not for their words, not for their actions. I loved them anyway, but it might have been nice.
Throughout the years, I have apologized to my daughter with greater regularity and a lot more ease. A grumpy aside or a nasty critique from my lips has me doubling back quickly to make amends. The truth is, this mother is not always right. This mother has moods and a mouth and a dark side that will sometimes come bubbling up to the surface uninvited and unannounced. It seems only fair to own up to it. Important to do – even for a mother.
The beauty of practicing all this on someone who loves you – like your kid, or your mate, a sister, a friend – is that apologies get to be a breeze (well, O.K., easier) with everyone else – waiters, clerks, co-workers, clients, even employees. Once you get, really get, that you’re only human, the rest is gravy.
Sixties Chick 