Ever wish you had a do-over button? Oops. Did those words actually fly from the dark ratty crevasse of my soul out into the light of day?
I’m not talking about those sharp-edged, curved blades of anger thrown at loved ones in the heat of an argument over who ate the last fudge bar.
No. I’m talking about re-writing personal history. See, I think, at least in my case, I actually have a do-over button. It’s limited in scope and power, I’ll give you that. But, evidently, when I say or do something that I know perfectly well is wrong, I simply edit the behavior and repeat the story, as soon as possible, to someone else.
Let me give you a quick example.
The other day I made a comment to an acquaintance about one of my closest friends. It wasn’t a mean comment, but I phrased it in such a way that, even as the words left my big fat mouth, I knew that, if my friend were to hear it, she’d be hurt.
The very next day, I overheard myself re-telling the incident to another friend. Except, in this rendition, it was the acquaintance who phrased the comment in my original words and me who corrected her and spoke up for my friend.
And, here’s the worrisome part.
I don’t think I would have realized I changed the story except there happened to be someone at both incidents, someone who heard my original comment and then over-heard my do-over. At the exact moment I realized this person had been there both days, like a revelation, I saw that I had twisted the truth.
Here’s another interesting thing.
When, like an epiphany, I saw my behavior for what it was, my very first thought was, “Awesome. I can use that in a story sometime.”