Guilt: Stupid Emotion! (January 2, 2019)

When I take a moment and think back, I realize that much of my existence has been plagued with “responsibility” – for as long as I can remember. 

When I was young and we went out to eat, I made sure that whatever I ordered was amongst the least expensive options as I wanted to make a responsible choice that wouldn’t burden my parents or our family financially. 

When I got a little older it was the responsible thing to babysit or accept other jobs to help make money to buy things so that my parents didn’t have to spend money on the things that I wanted. 

In school, it wasn’t acceptable to be anything but responsible – whether it be getting straight A’s or living up to the expectation and responsibility that teachers gave me to be responsible for helping others succeed. 

As a teenager, I was expected to be responsible in my actions and was often told that other kid's parents were ok with their kids going places if I was going because I was so “responsible.” 

When I wanted a car, I had to be responsible enough to have a steady job so that I could make a monthly payment (Yes, it was only $80/mo. – but no one just gave me a car.)  If my car broke down, I was responsible for figuring it out. 

As a young adult, I had to learn to live with and through my decisions – good or bad.  I didn’t have parents who gave me a down-payment on my first house, or a large sum of money to help me in tough times.  I was responsible for myself and ensuring my own well-being.

Even now,  as an adult, if we go out to a concert or dinner, I realize that I need to be the responsible one and not partake in alcohol if I want to ensure my own safety and the safety of others. 

Feeling "responsible" runs deep in me.  I’ve forever felt the responsibility of defending those who aren’t looked after, teaching those who don’t know, helping those who can’t help themselves, making sure that people feel included, and giving to those who don’t have. 

Do you remember in school when other students would give words that would get put by your picture on the classroom wall?  I would cringe knowing that EVERYTIME “responsible”  could be found next to my name or photo. 

And what has been the ultimate result of being labeled and feeling such a deep-seeded responsibility?   Ironically, GUILT. …and boy do I do feel guilty. 

What do I feel guilty for?  Where do I begin? 

I feel guilty for telling my mom that I hated her french toast when I was 12.

I feel guilty for yelling at my brother on our trip to Moab in 1991.
I feel guilty for getting off the phone with my dad to eat dinner the Sunday before he died.
I feel guilty for making my husband ever feel that he isn’t the most important person in the world to me.   
I feel guilty for not being a better daughter.
I feel guilty for not being a better sister.
I feel guilty for growing up and moving away from home.
I feel guilty for not being a better friend.
I feel guilty for not being a better wife. 
I feel guilty for getting sick.
I feel guilty for not being a better employee.
I feel guilty for saying no.
I feel guilty for putting myself first. 
I feel guilty for not giving enough of my time to others. 
I feel guilty for not doing more for others who don’t have the privileges that I do.
I feel guilty for having an education.
I feel guilty that I live in a nice house.
I feel guilty that I drive a new car. 
I feel guilty for wasting time.
I feel guilty for wasting money.
I feel guilty for not spending more time with my dogs. 
I feel guilty for not being a more kind human being. 
I feel guilty that I have more than many people do. 
I feel guilty that I often forget how blessed and easy my life actually is.
You name it…I can probably find a reason that I too feel guilty about it. 

Right now – today, I feel guilty that my brother is sick. 

My Bubba is not doing well.  His health is deteriorating.  I am scared.  I don’t want him to die.  I’ve played the role of responsible older sister for so long that my instinct is to jump in and tell him what he needs to do.  I want to storm in, take control and demand that he take appropriate action.  It seems that my brother’s path has always been riddled with difficulty.  He is soft-hearted, quiet, meek, humble and kind.  He has never wanted more than to please others and have them accept him and like him.  He has a heart of gold, but is misunderstood more than not and has spent his life being taken advantage of because of his meek demeanor. 

I on the other hand - I am loud, crass, demanding, judgmental, harsh, independent, self-indulgent, determined, not easily flustered and usually impervious to the manipulations of others.  If anyone should have been gifted with the qualities to face the challenges that my brother has faced, it would have at least been a bit more fair if it would have him instead of me.  

As a child, I spent a lot of time being my brother’s defender.  I didn’t pick fights for him, but I most certainly finished them.  I didn’t seek out the opportunity to belittle his attackers, but I left nary a shred of their self-respect when I was done hacking them down to size in his defense.  I headed my dad's admonition and easily believed that if he couldn’t defend himself, I could defend him, stand up for him and protect him from cruelty and injustices that he didn’t deserve.  I knew I was strong enough to take that on, and what’s more, I understood that it was my responsibility.  

But now, I can’t fix this.  I can’t move home to care for him without dissembling my life into something I don’t recognize - without becoming someone I don’t want to be.  And so, I feel guilty.  I feel guilty that he has to go through this instead of me.  I feel guilty that he doesn’t have the quality of life that he deserves.  I feel guilty that I haven’t shown him enough that I love him and desperately want him to live.  I feel guilty that I can’t make it better.  I feel guilty that I’ve had experiences and done things that he will most likely never do. 

 

Oh, but it goes further….

My mom struggles to care for my brother, giving him every moment of her life and every ounce of her being to caring for and make his life as good as she can possibly manage.  That is the way that my mom is.  She has always sacrificed for others.  She does it so gracefully.  She puts everyone before herself.  And now, her whole existence caters to my brother.  It is without doubt very difficult for her – emotionally and physically.  She is alone in caring for him and struggles to keep up with him, a job, her house and shopping, not to mention her own health and any next to impossible moments to be carved out for herself.  I can’t imagine what she goes through and endures taking care of everything on her own.  And…I feel guilty.  I feel guilty that I ever left.  I feel guilty that I wasn’t around to maybe help prevent where they are today.  I feel guilty that I don’t struggle like she does.  I feel guilty that I can’t be there to help.  I feel guilty that I have a sense of financial security that my mom doesn’t have.  I feel guilty…about so many things. 

 ((sigh))

 

I’ve spent a lot of time and money in my adult life to understand the guilt that I feel.  It took hard work to realize that the sense of responsibility that was engrained into me, while on the surface appearing to be a good characteristic, was in fact harmful to me and caused certain aspects of my development to be skewed.  I spent a lot of time reprogramming myself and working to realize that I am not responsible for everything and everyone and that the guilt I feel is unhealthy and stems from me focusing on and feeling as though I need to live my life in line with someone else’s expectations.  I know this. 

And yet...I continue to struggle with the guilt - the emotion - and what a healthy response to them should be.  The sadness plagues me and reaches deep.