Confessions of a Repenter

It’s not that I was bad about saying, “I’m sorry”.  It’s simply that I worked hard to never have a reason to say it.  I made the “right” decisions and got along with as many people as possible.  If I happened to mess up I would immediately rationalize and spin it, making myself look better than I was.  (Or convince myself what I did wasn’t as bad as the other person.  You don’t have to apologize if the other person hurt you worse, right?)  If it was a true mistake (notice I said, “mistake” instead of “sin” or “offense”?  See what I did there?), then I would muster the ability to overcome and not do the same thing twice. 
 
As the oldest child, it worked to distract my siblings with bossiness and determination.  When you’re high and mighty you can convince your subordinates that you’re above repentance.  Even coming into adulthood I frequently used the art of smoothing things over, thinking I could replace reconciliation with friendliness and compliments.  If all else failed, humor bridged the gap.  Somewhere in me I believed compensating and doing “better” went further than being broken and repentant anyway. 

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