Step 10, Personal Inventory and Admitting We Are Wrong

Step 10

10.  Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.[1]

I try to do a Step 10 every morning when I wake up.

“What do you want me to do today, God?”

I try to do a Step 10 every night when I’m lying in bed.

“Did I do what you wanted me to do today, God?”

These phrases are typed on signs that hang near my bed.  I read them before I turn out the light.  I think about the day and think of things that I did that weren’t good for me or someone else.  This is usually a very long list.  Then I correct the situation.

For example, sometimes I make students responsible for my feelings.  This doesn’t serve them or me.  They’re just kids after all.  So when I realize I’ve done this, I apologize to them. I said the following to a student once. 

“I was having a bad day last week and I’m afraid I expressed frustration to you when it wasn’t your problem.  I’m sorry about that. I was wrong.”

Another situation in which I had to admit I was wrong was the situation with Melba Toast. I should have taken her outside by herself to talk to her, instead of talking to her in front of the whole class.  I was wrong.  I have not admitted this to Melba.  Perhaps I should now, even if it is a year after the fact.  I will turn the situation over to God.

Students really respect me more when I am willing to admit that I am wrong.  They trust me more. 

It’s also wrong for me to answer the phone after 8:00 pm when I’ve vowed to set a boundary about that.  The stated boundary is that the phone gets turned off at 8:00 pm.  Sometimes, however, I still answer the phone after that time.  And I get mad at the person who is calling after eight o’clock.  Then I do Step 10 and realize that I was the one who answered the phone. It’s not the fault of the person who called, it’s my fault for answering the phone.  Then I vibe them out.  I’m the one who broke my own boundary, not them.

This reminds me of that saying that when I point the finger at someone I need to remember that four fingers are pointing at me.

[1] Ibid.

Juliet Wright, Everything is My Fault, VT: Hidden Angel Publishing, 2012, p. 42.