Blame, blame, blam!

BLAME Everyone Else!

It’s so easy.

Try it!

It feels very good. At least for the first five seconds. Then,

• Guilt shows up uninvited.

• Pleasure seeps out.

• Pain offers a seat to Shame.

They’re all having a party with Angst and Regret.

Finger Pointing never got me very far. Maybe just out of spitting range.

Sometimes I think I can get away with it. Not feel badly. If I stuff myself with chocolate cookies, not one, but an entire package, I believe it will soften the blow.

NOPE.

The rage, gossip, ranting, bile comes out sideways, at some time or another. It cleverly poses as the flu, a spiked fever, diarrhea, migraine, or indigestion at best.

I battle with Truth over it on occasion. Keep placing the blame out there, anywhere, with anyone but the one wearing my underwear. (No one else wears them, as far as I can tell. The dog prefers boxers so it isn’t him.)

Just, me.

The sooner I come up with the conscious awareness, the better. In the blink of an eye, snap of a finger, occasionally in the middle of the blabbing, I see it, hear it, feel it, know it. This is MINE, all mine. To take home.

If I’ve done damage, I need to apologize, get on it immediately, in whatever method I can. Act as if your best friend’s dad died and get on the horn. NOW.

Blurt it out, there isn’t any other way. Be blunt. Aware, sincere, sorrowful. Humble never killed anyone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it for what it was at the time and I’m to blame, not you.”

Don’t even think of throwing in an additional comment such as “At least this time….” or some other messy statement that you deem an apology.

Yesterday, I scooped-up a spider, large enough to be scary, and tossed it out the door. Then I realized, there is snow on the ground and the poor thing will most likely freeze to death. Was that a better demise than to be squashed by the condo owner who screamed like she was the Lead in “Psycho?”

I’m to blame for the death of the black Widow (I know, or am pretty sure, it wasn’t a BW but the client was) and the spider was going down.

There are so many more opportunistic examples of being able to blame someone else, anyone, for making your decision.

I killed the spider.

And am sorry.

Just hoping, if I learn this lesson, the spider won’t come back as a tick and give me lymes.

Just sayin’!

Share, please. Think about your choices, before you blame someone else. Tell me how it went. I’d love to hear. (In the comments, preferably.) So I know someone, anyone, is reading.