how do I respond when I know I've failed?

OK, so this is personal. I had to think twice before writing about it on here … but I guess I’m either doing this transparency thing or I’m not. If I was writing in my hard copy journal, this is what I would be writing about … so here we go. A little background / caveat: Over the years I’ve dug deep to try to understand my insecurities, the illusions I have of myself, my hopes of how others will perceive me and the games I play in relation to these. I have no expectations, and in fact it would be wrong to assume, that anyone else shares these same idiosyncratic psychological pathologies. These wrestlings are mine. Maybe they trigger some things for you … but that is your business not mine.

This morning I got an email in my inbox that triggered a train of thoughts that took me down a painful rabbit hole. It wasn’t about the email per se, it was because of who it came from. Let’s call him David. I’m on a list that means I get emails from him every week. They are some of the best emails I get, full of smarts and wisdom. I respect the bloke. Professionally at least. There are some things about him I don’t warm to, but overall he is an amazingly talented human being who is making a valuable contribution. He doesn’t know me very well, in fact he probably thinks I’m a prick. I don’t know for sure, but I’m almost certain he doesn’t have a milligram of respect for me.

That’s because I once copied him in on a resignation letter I sent when I was emotionally charged and angry. I copied him because (at the time) I wanted him to know why I’d resigned (he was a key stakeholder), and in the back of my mind, I knew it would hurt the person to whom I wrote the letter. It was dumb. Classic knee jerking error.

The rabbit hole I went down (while driving up the freeway to Melbourne) was to identify four other instances from my past that cause me shame. Shame because I behaved in ways that, based on my consciousness now, I know were harmful and disrespectful. I’m thinking of Peter, Hayley, Owen and Phil. In each case, as with ‘David’ above, I most likely disqualified myself from ever having a trusting, respecting relationship with them. It’s also highly likely, that these five people don’t care, they moved on years ago.

So why does it trouble me?

As well as the email from David, this morning I also received a text message from someone with whom I’d spent a few hours recently. The message was one of gratitude for how important and grounding the time with me had been. This text message is an example of how I see myself, and how I hope others see me. As someone who offers peace, energy and joy. As someone who is a guide to emotional and mental health. As someone who facilitates groundedness.

This is the story I tell myself. It is the reality I choose to believe in … but it is simply a story. Yes, it may have some connection to reality, but the power of stories is that they become self-affirming; I selectively build it by adding anecdotes consistent with it, and (often unconsciously) disregard counter anecdotes. Of course, over the years I have no doubt there are many people I have engaged with who I have left feeling the opposite of what I aspire to. But I have been oblivious.

So I wonder what to do about his blight on my integrity, this recognition of people from my past who I know I’ve left feeling judged and diminished or used.

1. I make peace with the fact I am a deeply flawed human. Despite my story to the contrary, I know I’m rooted in my core. This isn’t about some self flagellating myopic. It is also true simultaneously that I can act in noble, beautiful and altruistic ways. It is a peaceful self confession that I’m not perfect and will disappoint others as well as myself.

2. I won’t make matters worse by trying to ‘make it right’ with these people with no context and load of geography and time between us. I recognise this is my issue. Unless, circumstances arise that offer an opportunity for a meaningful apology …

3. I name the reality that it matters to me what people think, and as well as knowing I’ve violated my own integrity by my behaviour, it also pains me to know that people I respect (probably) think of me in unflattering terms.

4. I become conscious of the story I tell myself about who I am; who I hope to be and what I wish others would think of me. This helps me recognise behaviours that are deeply motivated by orchestrating outcomes consistent with that story, while in parallel making me alert to events that offer a counter narrative - things that happen that ‘tarnish my reputation’ or undermine the legitimacy of the story.

I think part of what I’m pondering here is the freedom that comes with identifying the story I tell myself about who I am and what my contribution is. By being able to identify the story, with it’s selective evidence base, I am freed from it. I can be at peace with my failures. I don’t need to pretend or hide my imperfections. The choice to address past wrongs can be motivated by what is helpful for others, rather than my own need to purge my conscience.