Your therapist has been taking you through the baby steps towards getting you to own up to the unforgivable wrongs you've done to people in your past. So he's been having you write letters of apology, stuff them into bottles and then throw them into the river. Each letter gives the address of the recipient of your apology, and it asks whomever finds the bottle to deliver the letter if they'd be so kind. So no one can say that you aren't trying to get the apologies into the hands of those who deserve them.
You have to admit you've been feeling pretty good about yourself. The fact that the apologies are floating around out there allows you to imagine that they're all being delivered to the right people. For all you know, they could very well be. And yet, whenever you imagine those sad victims of your dark cruelty reading the letters and taking some satisfaction in you having admitted you're wrong, you can just retreat behind the overwhelming odds against anyone ever even finding a single one of those letters. Until today.
Today you're in Honolulu for a conference (you're a neurosurgeon) and you're going to find one of your bottles on the beach with a note still in it. Before you even pick it up you'll feel the whole charade come crashing down around you. Of course it was a worthless gesture. How could you ever have allowed yourself to believe you were actually taking responsibility for your actions? How could you have believed the letters would ever find their destination?
You'll open up the bottle and fish out your letter. And you'll find a note scrawled in red ink over the text of your apology.
NOT ACCEPTED! THAT YOGURT WAS THE ONLY THING MY DIET ALLOWED ME TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST YOU SELFISH JERK!
You'll drop to the beach and stare at the sunset, remembering your ex-roommate and all of those kooky things he kept in the fridge. He could hold a grudge almost as tight as that 25 pounds he was trying to lose.
Happy Apologies In A Bottle Day!
