revjim.net

guilt

not like me

Jun 7th, 2009
by Jim Reverend.
3 comments

Sometimes I find myself seriously afraid that Celeste will end up like me. Well, no. That doesn’t sound right. I’m a good, honest, loyal person with a pure heart, and devotion that runs deep. I have a quick mind and a generally friendly personality. There are certainly things a lot worse to end up like than me.

But I also know how my brain can get. I know what that tunnel vision looks like when it sets in. I know how isolated I can feel when I am betrayed or facing a situation without companionship. I know how difficult it can be for a mind like mine to allow new friendships. And I know what the weight of guilt feels like when a situation is seen from all angles.

Sometimes, when Celeste is deep in thought, working through a spacial problem with her hands, or focused in deeply on a particular topic or object, I can see myself so clearly in her eyes. I watch her interact with other kids, even after 3 months of daycare, and wonder if she will have the same social interaction issues I’ve always faced. I relate to the look on her face when she is unable to do something that she feels she should be able to do. I feel her frustration when something isn’t as her expectations lead her to believe it is.

I’m sure there are others faced with similar afflictions, though I don’t believe I’ve ever met one. And I’m certain there are some minds even worse than mine to live in. And, even more, I’m certain that every mind has it’s good days and bad days. But still, I hope for better for her than I had in every way possible.

Don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy being me. At least most of the time. And if I had to give up any of my good qualities to get rid of any of the bad ones then it probably wouldn’t be worth it. But, at the same time, I can’t imagine my little girl suffering the same difficulties that living in this brain has presented me with.

I know there are ways to temper the bad sides of my personality. Over the years of being me I’m slowly starting to figure some of them out. I just hope I’ll be able to teach them to her when the time comes.

I see her now and, from time to time, I scare myself wondering if she’s happy or not. Sometimes I’ll tickle her or make a silly face just to get a smile and know everything is still okay. Even though I know that a smile doesn’t always mean it’s okay. At least not in my head.

guilty, without charge

Sep 15th, 2008
by Jim Reverend.
No comments yet

I regularly feel guilty for things that I do. It’s rarely, if ever, because the person I feel guilty about has done or said something to make me feel guilty. It’s usually not even because of some action someone else took. Most of the time the source of my guilt is contained entirely within the walls of my mind.

I was raised Catholic. Maybe that’s where all the guilt comes from.

I don’t get to see my wife and daughter often enough. With work, sleep, chores, and social expectations taking up the majority of my time (in that order), there’s little left for them. So any time I do anything at all that takes away from time I could be spending with them I feel guilty. It’s not that either of them do anything that makes me feel guilty. I just do. All on my own.

I need to get over it, take some time for myself, and get to the point where I feel good about who I am again. I need more photo sessions; more outings with friends in crazy, crowded bars; more outings with friends in secluded, intimate locations; more hikes; more stargazing; more road-trips; more projects.

The guilt, however, it not entirely without reason. It keeps me in check and makes sure that I’m taking time out for other people too: my wife, my daughter, my family, my friends. It makes sure that it’s not always about me. Because, unfortunately, the people that I love are not always interested and available for the things I want to do.

So that’s what I need now. I need to find a happy medium between satisfying my own needs and catering to the needs of those I love without feeling so guilty and stressed and, eventually, depressed, that I end up doing neither.