Tough Love: Shattering Your Own "Glass House"

It's hard to admit being wrong.  Oftentimes we seek an ends to justify our means, but even once proven wrong we try to tear down our accusers with charges that they are no better than we are.  "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," Christ said, right?  "If you live in a glass house, don't throw stones," right?  Our defensive nature comes out like an attack dog, putting down those who would dare take a shot at our honor.  We have so many reasons not to judge others, but we have far fewer reasons not to judge ourselves.  Sometimes the "glass house" in our lives needs to come under attack.

I spent most of my teenage years thinking I was always right, and those around me who disagreed with me were always wrong.  There's no way someone with at least half a brain could think the other way, I thought:  there must be something wrong with them, or they run around with the wrong people.  To hell with what I myself did when no one was looking:  I thought that what was done in public was the most important part of a right and moral character, and at times I failed to embody the same type of life that I communicated on the outside to others.  In the end, I judged a lot of people, and in situations where my judging was more overt, I lost at least a few friends.  I still look back at those days and shake my head, even though I've long forgiven myself and strive to be better as a result.

From an early age we are taught to have self-confidence, and it is important to approach life with a certain swagger.  This confidence helps us to get employed, overcome the jitters of a big test and to talk to that person we've been crushing on for the past month.  With it, however, comes an overcompensation:  the failure to quit while we are ahead, or to refuse to take responsibility for a mistake.  We are so confident that something is right or correct, that we cannot imagine an alternative reality where it could be wrong.  In the end, without the opposing foresight to determine that something was a bad choice, we end up hurting ourselves and others in the process, and then the healing process from a mistake takes that much longer.  I grew up in a faith that built a sacrament into this very feeling; and while I admit that I should probably get back to a confessional sometime soon, I'm glad that such an experience is available in which I can reflect on things I did wrong, accompanied by the guidance of a cleric.

Here's a thought experiment for you all this weekend:  if you've got fifteen minutes, take fifteen.  If you've got an hour, take an hour.  Think about anything wrong you did this week, focusing on what you did or what you neglected to do.  There's a web of possibilities from there:  reflect on the aftereffects of that bad choice.  Who did it hurt in the process?  What did you lose that you could have gained with a better choice?  What is something that you can do to right the error in the future?  To whom do you need to apologize?  How can you keep yourself from making the same mistake again?  Many factors go into the analysis of a bad choice, and it is up to you to determine how deep you want to go.  Can you do it by yourself, or do you need a friend?  Would you yourself be willing to help a friend walk through a mistake, and in turn be there for them if they're willing to make up for it?

Finally, before we approach a nice weekend here in Pittsburgh, consult the comforting words of Canadian poet Alden Nowlan, when he said:

“The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself he becomes wise.”

 The very day that you can own up to a mistake, learn to forgive yourself.  Take the opportunity to do the thought experiment that I outlined above, give yourself time to cool off, and then forgive yourself and strive to be a better person.  In the end, you'll thank yourself, and you will be able to do more for others than you could when inhibited by your past.  Enjoy your weekend!