[01.04] - A Fresh Start

It’s a term with less-than-stellar connotations in my books—mostly based on high school, when it was usually followed by “in a new place”, and applied to naughty boys who fought and sold drugs, or the occasional girl caught freaking in the woodwork shack.

These days, I’m trying to put a positive spin on that Fresh Start concept, and look at people anew. It’s hard.

See, I have a special skill: an elephant-like memory, mammoth both in size and duration. Especially when it comes to people doing stupid things.

Friend who stole my plastic ring when I was six? That biting comment about the faux leather dress I wore in ’95? The girl who shunned me when I was three? All filed neatly away in my brain, with a date, name, and level of displeasure and desired revenge attached.

It’s not good. Yes, there’s a certain benefit to the ‘once bitten, twice shy’ and ‘fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me’ mentality.

There’s also a time to stop giving the second, third, and fourth chances.
Sometimes, contrary to popular tunes, once really is enough. You shouldn’t extend mercy to your psycho girlfriend for hot-gritsing you for bringing home the wrong brand of ketchup, nor give your husband a second try when you catch him merrymaking with your cousin. There’s a sharp divide between “fresh start” and “wilful stupidity.”
Still, it’s worth remembering that we all say, and do, things that are inconsiderate, ill-thought-out, immature. Sometimes, though, people change. And sometimes these are isolated incidents of folly. It’s worth actually taking the time to see who and where a person is at any given moment, rather than hearing their name and gleefully rolling out the old filing cabinet of possibly outdated negative associations.

Of course, old, and now inaccurate, memories can be endearing. Without it, my family would never have enjoyed the poetic irony of the repairman dubbed ‘Skinny’, though he must have, for decades, weighed in well over 250 pounds.
Part of the problem of clinging to old judgments, though, is that it’s lazy. Sure, it’s too much to reassess someone every single time you meet. But sometimes it’s okay—and necessary—to simply let go and move on to getting to know who someone is now.

I’m writing this little forgive-and-forget edict with a bitter taste in my mouth. An acquaintance recently made a tactless, ignorant, and offensive comment. Those three traits are three of my least favourite, and I have to admit, I got the filing cabinet of Sin and Stupidity out.
I’m trying right hard not to whip out a new folder, emblazon their name on it, and slip this incident in right at the front. So I know only too well that letting go is neither simple nor fun.

Still, I’m giving it a try.
I’m attempting to step away from the cabinet and put the foolishness-file down. Hopefully, tomorrow—and the next day, and the next, I’ll be (at least slightly) able to step back from the memory of jackassery, and take the time to take a sincere look at who they are in the moment, now.

-ja**ly