Guilty when I’m watching TV instead of polishing up article pitches.
Guilty I am on my own enjoying space and quiet while Timmie has the kids a few thousand oceans away.
Guilty when I am just sitting, drinking iced lemon tea, and staring off into space.
Guilty when I am not doing anything, not finishing up the websites x 2, not drafting marketing material, not thinking about the event organization, not drafting the next blog post.
Guilty when I feel completely inert, and void of motivation, feeling like I cannot do it.
Guilty for eating delivery food, using up more plastic boxes, and cutting down more trees with writing on paper.
Guilty for not going swimming, running, or even attempting to practice the taichi moves my teacher relentlessly teaches me.
Guilty when I want to take a nap when I feel like I should kill another thing on my to-do list.
Guilty when I actually take a nap, and snooze the alarm, and end up sleeping 2 hours instead of 1.
Perhaps I could analyze it to say that I would feel inadequate, not good enough, an impostor blah blah blah if I did not do anything I considered productive, and therefore, feelings of guilt soufflé up like when cream is whipped too much.
Strangely though, today, my mind meanders to how unable I am to receive help of any kind. Or even just to receive a favour or someone else gets the bill for the taxi. I cannot simply appreciate that someone else could – and would – pull in weight sometimes and help me out, because I tell myself I am not worthy of their kindness. As if I therefore, owe them my life.
I asked Timmie why I feel guilty all the time. His response rendered my whole blog post of seemingly deep introspection redundant. He said, “Coz you’re a wacko!”
Sometimes, it is as simple as that. I overcomplicate.
Time to hug a bear.
