The Defiance of Accountability

I hate being wrong.

About anything.

I also really despise something being my fault. Clearly, someone else is at least sorta at fault, or the ethers conspired against me, or aliens inhabited my body, or my dog ate my homework, or there is some explanation, somewhere, for why I’m only a teensy weensy bit at fault.

Yeah.

Because of this desperate desire not to be wrong, I’ve often confused “accountability” with “responsibility”. I have no problem being responsible. I always show up, with what I was supposed to bring, mostly on time, with extra everything in case you forgot yours. My work is always done on time. My house is always clean for guests. My bills are always paid. I even have some weird subconscious thing that takes over when I’m hammered and inevitably, I wake up to find my clothes folded, my face washed, my contacts in their case, with freshly brushed teeth. It’s creepy, I know.

But accountability is not responsibility. It’s what you do when something goes wrong. Or, said another, more accountable way, when you (ie. I) fuck up.

There’s also the issue of whom one is accountable to. Is that reserved for partners, parents, and close friends, or do I have to own up to my brother, my boss, my neighbor, the chic I hate, and the mailman too?

What’s the half life on accountability? Is it sufficient to say “I was wrong” once and tacitly agree to move on, or must one suffer through repeated gleeful reminders from the other party of the transgression?

And to what degree does one need to be accountable? Like, is it necessary to admit I didn’t send the email you’ve been looking for all day because I really thought I had and wanted it to be your inability to find it in your Inbox or is accountability reserved for cheating on your taxes, adultery, murder and the like (in which case, I am faultless people!)

In an odd twist of fate, I’ve noticed that my mentors, those people I intentionally chose to guide my professional and personal development, are accountability fiends. Despite being some of the most accomplished humans, they universally are the first to admit fault, apologize, and accept the consequences. I was seriously hoping once you achieved awesomeness, the need for that bullshit was beneath you. Alas, I was wrong.

I like to steal smart shit from other people. I usually give them credit (working on it, people, be patient). One of my dearest friends who is both wise and unafraid of accountability once said:

“Be proud of how you handle yourself, and you will always be able to meet your own eyes in the mirror.”

Have you ever tried that? Go fuck up, side step the blame on to someone or something else, and then go stand in front of a mirror. Meet your own eyes. Not some 2 second glance to check your mascara. Really look. If you’re me, you either can’t do it, or the shit storm of shame starts rolling over you.

The defiance of accountability is always meeting your eyes.

Therefore, to whom is one accountable? Everyone and only you.

How long is one accountable? Always.

For what is one accountable? You tell me. Can you lift your gaze and hold it?

I hate being wrong, but I hate shame even more. I always want to be able to hold my head up, meet my own eyes, and acknowledge the flawed perfection staring back at me.

I’m not there yet. But my mirror will wait.