Jonathots Daily Blog
(2656)
XIV.
I confess so I can heal.
If I deny, I remain sick.
When I began this series on confessing, I made a private covenant with my ego to avoid revealing current events and basically stay focused on sins of the past, long ago resolved.
But unfortunately, I continue to transgress.
I travel on the road.
That’s what I do right now because it’s my way to try to speak some simplicity into the complexity of our world, and sanity into the raging din.
Arriving at my lodging on Monday, I found myself disgruntled. It is summertime, so motels and suites are more expensive, and therefore my budget does not allow me to stay in the top-of-the-line institutions, but rather, places me in Mom and Pop establishments, which are often a mixed bag.
Usually I have pretty good perspective.
For instance, I don’t call the carpet “shabby,” but rather, “quaint.”
I don’t refer to the furniture as being “outdated,” but rather, “antiques.”
But for some reason, this particular week I was fussy. I didn’t like the room. Rather than considering it spacious, I thought it was convoluted.
It put me in a mode: “I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
That sentiment is the soil for the seed of all iniquity. If you catch it early enough, you can keep it from going any further, but I was in no mood to be introspective, so I went to Phase 2: “I feel like blaming you.”
Self-pity never allows me to take any responsibility, so we grab the closest innocent victim and thrust him or her into the role of the villain and the source of all inconvenience–and that particularly dastardly profile was placed on my partner, Janet Clazzy.
So I growled at her a little bit. I expressed my superiority to the meager station of my surroundings. Since she’s the one who acquired the room, it was obviously her fault that they had not changed the paneling since the Eisenhower Administration.
We argued.
It wasn’t really an argument–just a general “blooming onion” of complaint, which had no real center to it, and therefore, no completion.
Shortly after finishing my griping, I went into the third phase: “I’m feeling stupid.”
This is the most important phase. From this point of feeling stupid we can either move to repentance–or we can simply recycle and start all over again with “I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
Matter of fact, I will tell you that a good portion of the population lives in a meaningless, constant circle of feeling sorry for themselves, blaming others, feeling stupid to return to feeling sorry for themselves.
It must have been a good day, because fortunately, rather than feeling stupid and going for another try at feeling sorry for myself, I repented.
I apologized.
And it was amazing how quickly the room went back to being a room instead of a prison cell.
I am the master of my own destiny. No one’s calling the shots but me. If the shots suck, it’s because I suck–not having the sense to avoid feeling sorry for myself … insisting that I got screwed over.
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