If You’re Not Cringing, You’re Not Growing

In the last three years, I think I’ve learned more about myself than I have in the forty years prior. Now, when I look back, I have difficulty reconciling the person I was with the person I am.

In my youth, I was a selfish, self-centered prick. I don’t know why I was. I just was. The only thing that mattered was getting mine. To hell with anyone else or their feelings. I’d love to blame this terrible behavior on my upbringing. Maybe some part of it was. Perhaps that’s a fucking cop-out.

I was in my late twenties when I met the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was cute. He was funny. The total package.

The bonus: he liked me back. There’s a bit more backstory to how we started dating, and I’ll tell that story — just not today.

That brief relationship was tragic. I was toxic but thought I was behaving normally: I wanted all of his attention every second of every day. Of course, now I know that I was responding to past trauma, but the damage I’d done to this man, our friendship, and even our friend group should have been unforgivable.

When I looked back at that time, I realized I didn’t want an equal. I wanted a possession. I liked this man because of how he made me feel. And that was it. His sole purpose was to make me happy.

I treated him horribly. The fact that we’re still friends says more about his character than I ever could. I would have dropped myself and not thought twice about it.

It wasn’t just him, though. I behaved this way toward many of the men I’ve dated, and it wasn’t until a few years later that I got a dose of my own medicine.

It was a problematic relationship that I stayed in for way too long, but I’m grateful. If it hadn’t happened, I’d probably still be the same asshole I’d always been.

After that relationship ended, I went to a therapist. I had to deconstruct my behavior and learn to take accountability for my actions. It was awful. It took a new level of honesty and accountability that I wasn’t used to. It was uncomfortable, painful, and absolutely worth it.

When I think about my past now, I cringe. When I think about how I treated people, I cringe. I cringe at my words, my actions, and how I took people who cared about me for granted.

Pat, my therapist, said, “If you’re not cringing, you’re not growing.” You recognize how your behavior affected others, and you’re embarrassed. Good. That means you’re trying to do better.

And I’d like to think I have done better. This self-reflection has made me more aware of others’ feelings, but I still screw up. And if you’re going on this journey, too, you will screw up. That’s okay — don’t stop trying.

Just remember not every cringe-worthy moment is a springboard for growth — like when you farted in Mrs. Wilson’s ninth-grade English Lit class (I’ve heard).