I never make New Year's resolutions because they're cliché and I try not to be trite. I also don't think you need to wait until January 1 to start something. Or a Monday. Or Lent.
I also don't like to set myself up for failure. Not that I'd ever fail (ignore the title of this blog).
Well, this past year I did make a resolution. I didn't tell anyone because see above. But I'm telling you now - and I fell short (that's different than failing).
My resolution was to stop saying sorry. I know, what? I realized in late 2013 that I say sorry for too many things - and this isn't a post where I wax about not being sorry for my weight, sexual proclivities, or beliefs. No, I was saying sorry for you running into me at the grocery store with your cart; sorry that my friend canceled plans an hour before the event and these plans had been made weeks ago; sorry that I gave you one simple task and weeks to do it and you're emailing me the night before that the project isn't done, NO BIG DEAL; sorry that I'm tired and don't want to be hungover with you tomorrow.
The vocalization wasn't always "sorry." It was just as often "You're fine," "It's fine," or "No worries." WELL, GUESS WHAT, IT'S NOT FINE!
As much as I hate the millennial buzzword #SorryNotSorry, I really am not sorry for not forgiving you. Your sole job was to plan the membership retreat next Saturday, and what do you mean you were drunk all weekend? Were you drunk also the last two months?
...Sorry, buried student org frustrations from undergrad.
Anyway, being honest that someone has indeed disappointed you (because did you not say you'd come support me at the event I planned where no one else is going that I like? Did you not state that in a text?) is a lot harder than Hollywood depicts it. As much as I admire brutal betches (all hail Jessica Lange roles in American Horror Story), these characters are generally caricatures that don't have lives outside their scripted lines. Aka they don't deal with the aftermath of burned bridges and a reputation of wrath.
Alas, today I went to the coffee shop and asked for green iced tea. The barista said it wasn't on the menu, but she'd love to experiment and make me one. I was all for it because I just wanted cold green tea (what I probably meant is, I want a green tea Frappucino, but I'm not at Starbucks). Fifteen minutes later, she had concocted something and had me taste it. It tasted like I had just paid $5 for pee-tinted water. Also, this took fifteen minutes? But I said: "It's good!"
And I realized I had utterly failed at my New Year’s Resolution. I deserved that $5 yellow water.