The Things We Flog Ourselves About

There is a peculiar punishment we sometimes inflict upon ourselves.

We do something.

We mean well.

We walk away.

Then the mind begins its work.

What if they took it differently?

Perhaps they think I meant something else.

Maybe that person believes I did it because of this.

What if they think I was trying to achieve that?

And suddenly, something that was simple when we did it becomes complicated when we remember it.

We replay the conversation.

We examine the gesture.

We inspect the words.

We reconstruct the moment from the perspective of people whose perspectives we do not actually know.

We become prosecutors of our own intentions.

Sometimes, the thing we are flogging ourselves about was never a crime.

It was simply something we did because, at the time, it felt worth doing.

Not because someone was the prize.

Not because we were seeking something in return.

Not because there was some hidden transaction behind the kindness.

It was simply what we believed was right to do.

Yet we worry about how it might look.

And perhaps this is one of the quieter prisons of being human: the desire to control not only what we do, but what other people think our doing means.

But we cannot.

People will interpret us through their own histories, fears, experiences and expectations.

We can be sincere and still be misunderstood.

We can be generous and have our generosity questioned.

We can act without an ulterior motive and still have one assigned to us.

That is the price of being visible to other people.

So, should we restrain ourselves?

Should we stop doing the things that feel worthwhile simply because someone might talk?

Perhaps not.

There is, of course, wisdom in restraint. Not every good intention requires expression. Not every impulse deserves action. We should examine ourselves before we act.

But once we have examined ourselves honestly, there comes a point where we must stop.

Because there is a difference between self-examination and self-punishment.

One helps us become better.

The other merely keeps us afraid.

We are sometimes told that if our intentions are true and genuine, we need not worry.

Truth eventually finds its way.

Perhaps it does.

But why do we still worry?

Because we are human.

We want to be understood.

We want our goodness to be seen as goodness.

We want people to know what we meant, especially when what they might think of us matters to us.

But perhaps freedom begins somewhere else.

Perhaps it begins when we accept that we are responsible for our intentions, our actions and their consequences, but not for every story someone else constructs about them.

There will always be another interpretation.

Another suspicion.

Another version of what happened.

We cannot live by all of them.

So examine your heart.

Question your motives.

Correct yourself when you are wrong.

Apologise when you have caused hurt.

Then, when you have done the honest work of examining yourself, perhaps you can leave some things alone.

Not every good thing needs defending.

Not every misunderstanding needs a courtroom.

And not every innocent act needs to be flogged until it confesses to an intention it never had.

Nugget:

Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to believe the person who actually knows why we did it.

Ourselves.