Tuesday, July 5, 2011


There are times I carry around so much guilt, I should be Catholic. (Or so the saying goes...)

Guilt sticks to me, like I'm made of velcro. It always has. I still feel guilty about buying an Aran sweater when I was visiting Inishmore in 1995. (It was a very expensive sweater). When I think back to telling my ex that I wanted a divorce, the memory makes me physically ill with guilt. I still even feel a little guilty about being angry at friends that hurt me, because I should be better than holding onto the anger.

Lately I'm carrying around more than my fare share. I feel guilty that I chose to take care of my own fragile mental state, rather then helping a friend that is dying of cancer. I feel guilty that I never helped him pack, when he moved home to spend his remaining months with family. I feel guilty when I gain weight. I feel guilty when I leave dishes in the sink, and laundry in baskets. I feel guilty about not seeing my family more often, but guilty about spending the money for travel. I have guilt over buying myself one book a month (my allowance of reading materiel for the Nook). Worst of all I feel guilty about having emotions.. feeling upset, angry, depressed.

Luckily all of that guilt flows in and out, staying briefly before flowing away, replaced by another emotion. Like things caught in the tide, it comes and goes.

I guess I need to take up residence at the shore, tossing the guilt that washes up back out to sea.

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