The Apology

The Apology.  Sounds like a bad movie.

What a concept.  With the exception of sharing my gut-wrenching 4th Step inventory -- with a real, live human being who was going to be shocked and disgusted and appalled -- nothing was so intimidating as the thought of making a face to face apology to another person.  And a lot of these people deserved an apology from me.  I didn't behave properly when I drank.  Hell, I don't behave properly half the time now.

It was important for me to learn how to apologize.  And to mean it.  I apologized all the time when I was drinking regardless of the fact that I was almost never sorry.  I was sorry I got caught.  I was sorry whenever I was in any physical, mental, or emotional pain.  But sorry that I had harmed someone?  Yeah, whatever.  I know that I would say anything to stop emotional discomfort.

Step 9 was my first attempt at the sincere apology.  I was a master of The False Apology, the Hollow Amend, and the Qualified Expression of Partial Sorrow.  After a searching, fearless, and thorough inventory it was time to learn how to apologize properly.  It really stuck in my craw at the start.  I didn't know how to do it.  I didn't like doing it, either.  I wanted it to be a two way street.  I wanted my overture of remorse to the wronged party to be met with a response something along the lines of: "Oh, don't worry about it.  No problem, Horseface.  No problem at all.  Forget about it."

Some people did that but a bunch of them just fixed me with an icy glare.  They were familiar with Fake Apology Horseface, not Sincere To The Best Of His Limited Ability Horseface.

That's OK.  It's my amend.  It's for me.  I'm cleaning up my side of the street, not your side.  Moreover, people are definitely suspicious.  That's what happens to someone who lies repeatedly.  People expect to see some sincerity in action.  We call that Living Amends.  We have to do both: we have to apologize directly then act better.

Yeesh.