In light of something I didn’t do on Friday that made the guilt in my body swell up and meet me in my throat, I wanted to actually write about the one thing I don’t handle well–guilt.
I turn into this worthless doormat. I’ve been doing it ever since middle school, too. I’d latch on to a friend and be the sidekick, purely because I didn’t have enough guts to turn the tables around. Me and so-called friend would fight, and she’d hold fast and I’d feel guilty and come running back to her. I feel like I always do that. Too quick to say, “I’m so sorry, please take me back.” I was the same with my parents too, which led them to easier punishment pursuits, I’m sure.
“Did you skip school today?”
“Um, uh um…yes.”
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I’m trying to work on lassoing the guilt, but it’s still tough. Planning a wedding, I have found, doesn’t make it any better. I have guest-list guilt. People I want to invite, but don’t really know well, and really know in the back of my head that it would be easier to just to cut them. And then, on the other hand, cutting people that I really don’t want there, but feel they’re entitled to an invite? Don’t get me wrong, I want the wedding. I want people there with me to celebrate and watch me make the biggest decision of my life. But I also want it to be the people I couldn’t imagine not having there with me. And quite frankly, there have been some in-and-outs that I could care less about seeing.
Anyway, the point is, I’ve always had an issue with guilt. I have an extremely intense conscience, so I guess that’s both a good and a bad thing. If somebody tells me something about another person we both know, and it’s something that could potentially hurt them, I feel like I’m walking around with a bomb in my mouth, just waiting for it to explode. I don’t want to be the bad news guy, but I don’t like feeling helpless to the situation, either. Couple that with a serious importance in doing what I said I was going to, regardless of whatever it was, and I’ve got years of guilt, laid on like peanut butter to the roof of my mouth.
And I think it’s about time I scrape some of that stale peanut butter off.
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