Dealing with Feelings of Guilt

Why do some people feel they should be given things and do nothing in return? I try to put myself in that spot and struggle with it. I’d feel so horribly guilty. Yes, I know, feeling guilty is one of those emotions that bring you down. Have I suffered some aspects of guilt for a good part of my life?

What do I feel guilty about? And how do I turn it around.

1.)  Not appreciating my mother enough while she was alive. (Well, this is only partially true – I think it’s my own guilt why I make that statement.)

Oh, I have lots to say about my Mum, most of it positive. I love her soooo much, even though she’s no longer with me. But, towards the end of her life, I was frustrated. The most horrible is feeling guilty that I didn’t take care of her well enough in the end; that I let her go instead of giving her the care she craved. But I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t give her what she wanted and needed. I know that logically, but deep down will always be the guilt I didn’t do enough.

All my life, she did so much for me. She was always bailing me out when I was stupid about finances and overspent. Yes, she could be very critical and quick to find faults. But one thing I recognize now in her, of which I have a similar streak, is that she often made her own paths. I hadn’t noticed that when I was much younger.

Our similarities are in walking individual trails. Yes, there are family and friends, but I feel we have been different from most others. Heck, who taught me to be at peace in the woods? Who taught me not to be afraid while out by myself walking old trails? Who showed me it was OK to be solitary (though it was never specifically mentioned)?

What happened years later, especially after Margaret, her twin, went to a nursing home, was I felt Mum was trying to live through me. She got very controlling. Even when I was in my 50s, I felt I had to get her permission to do anything or go anywhere. Anything she disapproved of, I’d get the “attitude” and feel her disappointment. That made me pull away.

2.)  Not being a good mother – because I’ve not been the type of mother/grandmother that so many other women are.

But is a lot of my guilt just because I am not like most others? I’ve been trying to describe and figure this out for years.

There has just been something inside me that couldn’t be this other kind of person – the kind of person others seemed to have expected of me. Or even as I expected of myself from witnessing how others were. But I just never could not be that way.

3.)  Not being able to stay involved in groups or even wanting many of the things other people want. Something in me always took me more along solitary paths. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I’d get bored or frustrated or other aspects of life took me in other directions.

4.)  Not feeling I give as good as I receive. And where money is concerned, I’ve always had issues …

Yet, there’s something within that makes me want to give as I receive. Even in that desire, though, I struggle. As long as I have money to pay for things, there’s the exchange. But what happens when there is no money? Or if I feel what I’m being charged isn’t worth it. As I get older, it’s something I worry about. Especially as many things I am unable to do, I have to hire someone to do for me.

I continue on to walk my own path, become strong in who I am, and do what I CAN do.

 

 

Part 1 -- Cry the Lone Wolf; An interesting life

 

I believe everyone has an interesting life. We don’t have to be rich or famous to have stories to tell. I started journaling in 1977 when I took a creative writing class at Northern Essex Community College, and, as of this year, I have now written 200 books about my life. The first ones were just a few pages, but later, I began writing almost every day. And yes, there are a lot of boring tales … but there are exciting ones, too.

I turned 70 years old this year and I’ve been contemplating writing my life story, picking out the interesting aspects of my life. Julia Cameron, author of “The Artist’s Way,” calls journaling “morning pages.” She said to write every day but to never go back and reread them … and I hadn’t.

But now, in contemplating telling my story, I decided to look back. Are there differences between what I think I remember and what I experienced in reality? I know how I feel about my past, but are my memories correct? 

For the most part, I feel a good part of my life was spent being miserable and unhappy. Yet, there were some wonderful times. I haven’t been a total loser; I’m not a loser at all, really. My mother once said she didn’t know why I was sad. She said I always seemed like a happy child. 

I don’t remember being happy much – but that’s not true, either. I know I had happy times. My happy place was wandering the woods, playing in the brooks, exploring old trails, just being out in nature… alone for the most part. 

So now, my goal is to search for the gold of my life. What have I learned? What has made me who I am today? In telling my tales will I discover I really am worthy? 

I’ve spent this week looking through the first few books. Holy crap, I was a miserable git by 1977. (Stories of earlier years will have to be pulled from memory or from looking at old photos.)

One surprising element was how much I did, how many classes and seminars I took while working a fulltime job and raising two kids. There were many side jobs with trying to sell various products. I got involved in various groups. I’d forgotten how many awesome things I did do. 

Now the task is to pull this all together. Goodness, I’ve been writing for most of my life. I’ve written thousands of poems (no exaggeration), some short stories, essays, et. al. Art has also been a big part of my life. 

So, how do I start? I began a timeline by year and making notes for each year looking through those first journals. It seems weird to start when I was in my 20s. Maybe I need to dig into childhood memories to create the base of where I came, how I developed, which leads to who I am today … and why.

I need to focus and take one step at a time.