guilt
DammitJanet you feel guilty.
for different biological fathers
for the divorce
for working while we were still babies
for the live-in boyfriend you later married
for feeling now like you've abandoned us
but why should you feel guilty.
for giving us life
for moving us away from the violence
for supporting us
for giving us a father that actually was one
for allowing us to gain independance
and for all of this i thank you mom.
i can't thank you enough.
030208
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no reason i don't know why i feel guilty about so many things. life shouldn't be about meeting others' expectations. 140525
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epitome of incomprehensibility Doesn't work properly. 150320
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unhinged im filled with it. maybe it is lingering catholicness 150321
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e_o_i It can be the impetus for apologies, but for action? To me, guilt isn't a great motivator. Better is to look forward, think about what things you could help make better, maybe. 150807
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epitome of incomprehensibility The idea of volunteering in person, prepping meals for the homeless, feels virtuous. It was nixed by the Council of Presbyterian Parents. They would be uneasy at the possibility of plague transmission as I am living with them. Makes sense; I acquiesce.

The idea of biking to see my boyfriend feels self-indulgent, a license to indulge the lusts of the flesh, including the drive to borrow books. Parents: up to you, but better to bike then to take public transit. So I've done that twice so far.

Dream: I'm in a chair beside him at McGill Library, leaning against him while we're both reading.

Librarian man (grey-haired, but plump and loud-voice with little resemblance to my father): "Are you respecting social distancing?" (Glares at me.)

Me: "But, but we live together."

CD doesn't stay to hear the end of my sentence (which isn't true in real life; see above). He's annoyed at the older man's officiousness.

I try to find him but then I'm distracted because there are free hamburger and salad plates for some reason. I think, "Well, it's almost six PM. I might as well eat supper here."

...

In real life, yesterday, I felt guilty because my student was supposed to hand in her short essay at 7. Our tutoring session was scheduled for 6-8. Halfway through, she said, "Oh, I should hand it in," and she was anxious the rest of the class because the online system timed out at exactly 7:01. She'd emailed her teacher to explain and to hand it what she had so far.

Well, she had a first draft done, but it had spelling and grammar errors and the conclusion didn't really follow the guidelines the teacher set for it. So she emailed a half-edited version.

The second half of the class we finished editing it. My parents were at the table, out of camera range, eating supper. They both thought I was telling her what to write too often instead of letting her figure it out. I know I was. I was anxious, too. The student emailed her teacher at the end, asking to have her final version counted, if possible.

I felt guilty for not understanding before that her deadline bisected the class. I felt guilty for telling her what to write.

But I can make mistakes and not be a failure. With my high school student today I consciously avoided feeding her words, although she did use the phrase "potentially embarrassing" I gave as an example.

Guilt and potential embarrassment: the story of my life!
200415
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nr over confrontations

triggers the avoidant_tendencies
211202
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tender_square now that i’m married, i have skin in the game,” he reasoned. “i want things to be settled.”

but couldn’t a desire for being settled result in settling for less? he disagreed. said his life came together when he found me.

i don’t understand people in their twenties—hell, people our own age, even!—who have an inflated vision of what they think the next thing is that’ll bring them happiness.”

and i felt implicated then for wanting more than he can give me, for taking more than he realizes.
211202
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tender_square is the rat inside her ventricle walls
that gnaws at the electrical wires,
short-circuiting the spark within her soul
that wants to burn the whole block down.
220112
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unhinged nagging
tugging
spinning
pulling
220112
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nr i feel guilty when people do things for me. i am appreciative and flattered but a part of me feels undeserving, and like i won't feel good unless i reciprocate. 220212
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e_o_i nr, too relatable: earlier this week I got a package delivery, a poetry book, and I thought, "Oh no oh no David emailed me something from England for Valentine's and I didn't do that because I didn't find time..."

The note with it brought great relief. The book was a prize I'd won at an online launch months earlier, but the organizer hadn't gotten around to sending it.
220213
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e_o_i Popular remedies exist for undeserved guilt, at least in the form of sugar-pill platitudes.

Not that they work either.

But I'd settle for some slogan to put a salve on deserved guilt. Because I'm itching at it and it hurts.

I'm sorry already, all right? I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
220213
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nr i remember a long time ago he filled out one of those early-internet surveys we'd send to friends, and one of the question was "worst feeling?" he responded "guilt."

i think after all these years, i think he had something there. it at least hits like no other emotion does.
220913
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nrS *one of the questionS 220913
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tender_square guilt has been keeping her up at night. the mother has her little fiat back and it's restored again to its former glory (new rotors, new tires, an oil change and fluids topped). but she can't enjoy driving it, not when her daughter is desperate to get to work. the mother feels that she's the one who created this mess by taking her car back from her daughter. after all the work and all the threats and being told by her daughter their relationship was over, the mother now wants to strike a deal where her daughter pays her money every week to reimburse for the repair costs in exchange for continuing to use the car; if a payment is missed the car gets taken back again. but it was the daughter's lousy decision-making that created this mess in the first place. the mother had given her 45 days to get money in place; to pay for the three-thousand dollars in outstanding parking tickets so that the fiat could be transferred to her name and pay an additional two thousand to buy the car from her mother. the daughter avoided her for weeks; lied and said her money was locked away. meanwhile, the money had been spent, and the daughter accepted this new job two weeks into knowing that the car would not be hers in future. the daughter never went to her mother to say the money was gone, could they strike up another deal, she just kept pretending the money was there, that her anxiety was too high to deal with the situation and so she waited until the clock ran out. 230209
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