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August 17, 2008
A not so funnny story.
While watching myself this week I noticed that I get really irritated, sometimes angry with people who don't say sorry or thankyou when I expect them to.
This came as a bit of a surprise as with the little ones I work with I have no such expectations, in fact I encourage other staff not to put children into a position where they are hounded into saying thankyou or sorry instead I encourage staff to be good role models and lead by example and to use positive praise to promote manners that will help children get along with others. I am a firm believer that a sorry or thankyou means nothing unless it comes from within, with a true understanding of why it is being said.
So I was more than a little bewildered when I noticed this oddity in myself. I first spotted it during one eveing when I answered the phone and found myself saying "sorry, I think you have the wrong number" the person who had rang put the phone down without even acknowledging me, when I sat back down I found it difficult to relax back in to the program I had been watching as I realised I was feeling really cross. The next day while driving I noticed myself becoming irritated with drivers who didn't say thankyou when I stopped to let them out. Interested in my reactions I started to watch really carefully and noticed that often I say sorry in situations which are not my fault, for instance someone bumps into me in the street, I feel fear and say sorry without thinking why i am saying it and I now realise that whenever anything goes wrong, if i'm there I expect to be punished wether it's my fault or not. I think that my fear and need to say sorry probably makes me angry and resentful towards those who do not feel this way.
Then I remembered a 'funny' story that my mum used to tell of when I was small, it goes like this.
When I was about four years of age I was playing dressing up in my older sisters clothes, excited with my new costume I ran down the hallway stood on the front of the dress and went flying though a glass door, ending up with one half of my body in the kitchen and the other half in the hallway, the story goes that whilst my mother and older brother were trying to get me out all I kept repeating was "sorry Mummy, sorry Mummy, sorry Mummy" My Mum was more worried about getting me out and finding out where the blood was coming from. Incidently I only had two small cuts on me and the blood was pumping out of my mums foot, which in her panic she had not felt at all until I was safe.
I do not really have much conscious memory of this incident, but I know well the fearful little girl who needs to say sorry.
It makes me wonder at what age The Feel Fear- Expect Punishment- Say Sorry Program was started in me.
Posted by Shelliz at August 17, 2008 04:35 PM