Guilt

My life is changing shape. I am being kinder to myself than ever before and giving myself the flexibility and freedom to choose what works best for me. In doing so, I am going to a different church that is closer to walk to and has later Mass times. I am not pressuring myself into making any changes that anyone else is asking of me but waiting until I am confident it is for my own best interest. I am pouring so much energy into fixing me that there is less than ever to give out to those around me. What do all these things have in common? Guilt.

I feel very guilty, if I allow myself to. And I say “allow” because guilt is something we feel whenever we do something that our society or close network of family and friends would deem unusual and not proper practice. Obviously, if laws were broken you should definitely feel guilty but not doing something that someone expects you to do is not a crime by any means. You’re not hurting the person, you are just falling short of their expectations and probably bruising their ego a little. But, when I really stop and think about it, I do feel a sense of guilt for the people and places I have left behind, somewhat, in the last few months. People who have always been a part of my life in small ways or big. I’m confident that one day I will serve those people how I feel is necessary.

One thing anxiety steals away from you is true connection. Whenever you stop and think, “I wonder how they are, what they’re up to?”, you can’t simply call up and ask or call round to their house without your mind convincing your body that danger is inevitable. I mean, I’ve never known anyone to become violent because someone came round with a box of chocolates to see how they were, have you?!

This all rang true when I discovered a member of my old parish community had passed away. My first instinct was to send a card, but then I realised that it had been almost a month since they died and I hadn’t known. Guilt! I thought of his presence in that community, the kind words he always had. How loving and supportive his daughters always are towards me and my siblings and the kind words they always have for my mother since her own passing. I thought of how out of touch I am with all those people who helped shape and guide who I am as a person and how little I’m giving back right now, or have ever given back.

And in writing this, I realise how much I’m thinking about me, my actions and their consequences and less of those around me and maybe therein lies the problem?