SHAME/PSYCHOLOGY/MORALITY

I Pushed, Then Elbowed, and Now I Suffer the Consequences

What are the consequences of hitting another person?

What I did the other night, I locked it away for a reason until now.

And here and now, I’m revealing an action I’m not proud of. I use “action” in the common and arbitrary sense, meaning that my sense of order, fairness, and personal control has come under self-scrutiny.

Something more profound than the action, less definable, frightened me. No civilized reason would cause me to lash out; only fear of my behavior caused me to feel wounded as well. Psychologists and clergy use the term “moral injury” to describe distress when our behavior fails to live up to our moral standards.

Moral understanding is a matter of knowing right from wrong. Yet, no one is naive enough to believe that all moral beliefs are universal. Today, some countries lawfully beat and imprison homosexuals, and others accept gay marriage; in some places, the corporal penalty is the obligation of a responsible parent and, in others, grounds for forced removal.

However, no matter where you go, hitting another person is wrong. Ethics says yes to admitting mistakes, and yet instincts can be unruly. The brain is wired for self-deception, and people are biased to think of their choices as correct. I’m here to admit that mine wasn’t.

Most of us believe in our ability to exercise control over our own lives. Our emotional reactions, body language, and eye movements reveal our thoughts.

Yet, our innermost thoughts are locked away from outside access unless we share them with others. I was confronted with the pulverization of my fortress and unearthed that honesty would save me from blazing hell.

Most of you will undoubtedly find the psychology and the view of human nature outlined above grim and shocking in the extreme.

So, take a few seconds. Check in with yourself. Knowing what I’ve done, ask yourself how you feel about me. There might be compassion and maybe some moral judgment. There might even be resentment that I’m imposing my story on you, whatever your reaction or feelings toward me might likely change. I will leave it up to you.

It was an emotionally charged night. Thousands of us stood in solidarity, suppressing tears of anguish. After standing for hours in the cold, my feet throbbed. I was hungry and sad. A pedestrian barreled into me when I left the event, and I nearly fell over.

This collision caused a chain of events. It ignited in me an anger I couldn’t control for what I perceived as being assaulted and for having my personal space invaded.

After the momentary shock, my immediate reaction was to push, and then I elbowed her. My physical response still baffles me. It took me a few seconds to register what had happened.

I then realized that my greatest weakness came from the inherent conflict between what I aspire to be and my natural primal instincts.

The woman was fine. We were both shocked. She uttered a few choice words and continued on her way.

Sadly, my awakening senses lead to such a merciless judgment of myself — to say nothing of what I understand about life. I can say that human weakness is one of the great enduring truths of the universe. So, if mistakes are an inevitable part of life, why is it so hard to accept it?

But the moral blocks I had supposed to exist between me and civility were so tenuous as nearly nonexistent. My behavior forces me to confront that I have far less control over myself, my world, and my fate than most want to believe. That’s a frightening realization, so frightening that it can be easier to look away. But I can’t. My shame claws and pulls at me.

Physically shoving the pedestrian away was all adrenaline. The damage I caused was minor.

I can rationalize my behavior by saying my shame is a good, healthy signal to fix whatever I messed up. But hitting someone is immoral because it hurts.

A universal principle of human morality is that an action’s moral merit depends not only on the action’s outcomes but also on the person’s intentions.

My intention wasn’t to hurt the woman. It was a reflex reaction, one which I hadn’t experienced since my childhood. I was utterly depleted and exhausted and released, for that moment, from all my hurt and sadness.

I was aware then only of my relief.

Yes. I felt relief. I could not ask myself why my relief had to be achieved in such a primitive fashion — at once so unspeakably archaic and shocking.

But I was morally wrong. Because I could have offered an apology, and I didn’t. But I must accept the moral weight within me to deal with the untapped and dormant force of shame to survive as a human.

I know the tension between self-respect and mistakes, the grinding way I remained stretched between these poles — continually attempting to choose the better rather than the worse.

There are too many things we do not wish to know about ourselves. And this human truth has an especially grinding force here, where truth is almost impossible to achieve, and we are perpetually attempting to find our feet on the shifting sands of life.

Thank you for reading. 💞💝