I can relate to this, I often did step up because I was good sized. But I still feel bad about the times I did not step up.
I’d be more interested in hearing what the people I know in real life think is the worst thing I’ve ever done, but this is what I carry: about four years ago we were so broke we could barely afford the Dollar Store. Our grown sons were living with us because of the economy (they both had inadequate jobs.) We could afford one meal a day, supper. For some reason one son freaked out and wouldn’t contribute toward food. (Up until then we had been middle class and yes our kids were coddled/became entitled.) Anyway, one night I only cooked enough food for three (pork chops…meat!) When he got home from work there was nothing for him.
Things were worked through, things worked out, but the worst thing I’ve ever done is purposefully not fed one of my children.
The second worst thing that bears on my mind is when my co-workers were putting somebody down, somebody who had helped me during working hours with things he didn’t have to. He walked up while their words were still hanging in the air and had obviously heard. And I hadn’t said “Well, I like him.”
I’d been bullied in High School. I met a college room mate who had a few issues for the same reasons.
Even though I knew better, pred instinct kicked in and by the time it was over the room mate was in the psych ward.
TreacherousCretin, I for one would like to read your house-selling story as I’m gearing up to sell one myself. I’m sure your tale, far from being uninteresting, would be instructive. Maybe see you over at the Barn House?
Things from “later childhood” – which have me feeling that around the ages of 11 / 12, I must have been a really horrible little shit. I recall in particular, two offences on my part, closely in that age-ballpark – well over fifty years ago, but I still cringe when thinking of them.
No. 1 – I seem to post rather a lot on SDMB, about sibling-related doings. I (male) have two brothers, both younger than myself: the one I tend to post about, has a fair few interests and activities in common with me. The other – middle brother of us three – is a most excellent and stand-up guy, but he and I don’t have a lot in common.
Source of guilt here, involves me and abovementioned middle brother, when I was aged twelve, and he, five. In the course of a quarrel between us, I bit him. He told our mother (our father as of then, deceased) that I had done so: I denied it, and mother believed me.
Nothing highly horrific came about then or thereafter, in relationship between me and brother; we are nowadays good friends, although with little common ground – and it would seem overwhelmingly likely that he has forgotten all about the biting episode. I still feel that it was a bit of vile behaviour on my part, and sometimes feel moved to apologise to him about it – I imagine my ending up doing so some day, when we have both had a lot to drink. It’s doubtful, though, whether anything positive would be achieved by dragging this thing, probably forgotten by him, up from half a century back.
Bad act No. 2: I went to a boarding school (all-male) from age 11. There was a boy there, my contemporary, who was a completely benign and harmless character – and in some matters, very bright – but rather weird and “off in a strange world of his own”, and tending to come out with a lot of very naive things. I’ll call him K. I was a bit that way myself; but I was “Master Sharp-and-Cool” compared with poor K. Pre-teens can be extremely nasty; and this unfortunate and innocuous lad was quite mercilessly picked-on and mocked and bullied, for his lack of worldly savoir-faire. On the whole, I didn’t join in, but nor did I do anything to support or befriend K. And in the course of one particular group mocking-and-oppressing session, something possessed me to punch K. in the side, hard, a couple of times; for which I was applauded by the bullies (who a lot of the time, had it in for me to a lesser extent, but for much the same reasons).
K., who must have had the patience and forbearance of a saint, did not seem to particularly hold this act against me. After two years at the school which we attended, he left that establishment and, per info which I got, furthered his education at another school elsewhere – hopefully a more civilised and humane outfit, than our particular alligator-tank. I’ve felt remorseful ever since, and have wished for the chance to contact him and apologise. Maybe, in the Internet era, I could create a website for this specific purpose…
Er, after someone cuts you off without a word, I don’t think it’s such a horrible thing to say what you believed happened when specifically asked to speculate about why. (Had Alex told you about X-Y-Z events, sure, I’d say probably not a great idea even post-alienation to share. But that isn’t the situation you described.)
That you were (apparently) correct just means that the guy still has plenty of issues he needs to address, and he’s probably misdirecting some of the self-loathing your way.
FWIW, IMHO, you didn’t do an awful thing, and if *that’s *the worst thing you’ve ever done (to someone else v. yourself), you’re almost a saint.
She’d be a saint is she wasn’t so sexy.