I recently read Sidney Poitier’s book The Measure of a Man — I’d been thinking already about a similar theme so was struck by his thoughts: “…I’m so many different things. …. The things I don’t like about myself, the things I do like about myself, the things I‘m not but I’d like to be, the things I am but don’t want others to know about – these are all percolating inside. All these contradictory aspects are the basic me. Courage and cowardice, strength and weakness, fear and joy, love and hate…” This resonated with me.

At 53 I am thoughtful and level and caring. I am also impatient, intolerant and subject to SOC (sudden onsets of crabbiness). Most of this ugly end of the spectrum I’d like to think is not visible to others. (Our beloved postmaster once remarked to me that I am always in a good mood—I told him I just try to stay home when I’m grumpy.)

For Poitier the range was an important feature from which he could draw: “All these contradictory aspects are the basic me…that’s what makes up the actor so that’s available to the camera”. All fine and good if the dark side enhances our work; not so great if it rears its ugly head in the midst of an otherwise pleasant interaction.

I’m pretty sure I am not the only person out here who experiences what I have come to refer to as ‘the range’. Even with an understanding of grace, it is still difficult to shake off the reverberations of a less than mellow exchange, whether we’re on the business or receiving end of it. What is helpful to us in recovering from a difficult interaction?

One key element for me is a short interval between the incident and my taking responsibility for it, basically honesty instead of denial, fessing up instead of justifying myself. But even if I can come to this place quickly, there have been times when I had to wait to be able to speak to my friend (who was out of the house or out of cell phone range). That was a very difficult waiting time, because the feeling of shame is something we are not meant to be stuck with and it’s hard for things to feel settled within ourselves and in our relationships until we hear the words “I forgive you”.

Shame is a lousy feeling and a good teacher, and it makes us yearn for restoration. I have been blessed with forgiving friends and having a clean slate with them has meant I behave better because I want to keep that slate clean. What if the forgiveness is NOT offered, though; or in the case of us being the wounded, what if responsibility is not taken and a confession is not made to us?

This is the harsh and gritty stuff of life and my bet is that you the reader might have some thoughts about experiences that have led to growth. What has been helpful to you in coming out the other side? I invite those thoughts.

Cathy Sakiyama, M.Ed.
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