Have some people grown up without consequences? I feel like I’ve been checked, in some way, for my actions ever since I was a child. Nowadays, I’m more responsible for those consequences than are others. I’m not able to forgive myself without having paid for my indiscretions.
Even doing well is not without its due. My success is not mine alone and I cannot accept credit for it without acknowledging all that has contributed to it. What I know today and where I’m at is the result of the efforts of many other people. I’m heavily indebted to my parents, of course. So too, I owe my friends for supporting me, to teachers for educating me, the concierge for accepting important packages on my behalf, for my sister’s patience with my nonsense. The list, as they do, goes on.
Are the people who believe in being “self-made” the same people who never acknowledge their own faults? Where did they buy the brush that paints the world with blame and leaves their oversized button-up spotless? Most likely, it was a gift they vehemently believe they earned.
I can’t place blame on others without considering my fault. This is particularly troubling when I know that I’ve not done wrong because it’s that much harder for me to figure out what I’m to blame myself for. Some people, it seems, have no issue with externalized fault and absolving themselves of any wrongdoing. What does the world look like when your agency is flawless?
Admittedly, I’m finding the people I interact with increasingly intolerable. I’m unable to restrain the curmudgeon within me. He is becoming increasingly grouchy. Being nice to others seems like a wasted effort, one that too often goes unappreciated. People seem to see what opportunities exist for them, regardless of the expense to others, and take full advantage of them. When those opportunities don’t materialize the way they had hoped, it seems that they are able to blame the situation and not themselves for acting without forethought.
I don’t know, though, because I can’t come to an understanding with people. It confuses me. It troubles me. It confounds me. All I seem able to do to help me is write out these blog posts in an attempt to work toward an understanding. More importantly, I’m trying to figure out how to deal with these increasingly regular situations. I’m quick to anger but that only hurts me. This seems to be one way for me to keep myself in check.
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