I am a guilt-ridden-southern-gospel-raised-bible-belt-living person that makes a big deal about putting down the glass figurine in the Hallmark store so they won’t even think I’m trying to steal. It’s crazy. I feel guilty about the things that I’m not even responsible for and not guilty about screeching at my husband in front of the child. I’m a lovely mess.
I’ve been like this my whole life, I can trace it back to Mrs. Wiggins Kindergarten class where we went on a field trip to see sheep, and the people there were showing us how they shaved the sheeps’ wool, then scratched it between two brushes to clean it before making it into yarn or what-not. Feeling gloriously wicked, I stole a tiny patch of wool only to feel truly guilty later on that night. I glared at the wool, dismayed at my weakness.
That was a terribly example actually, now that I think about it, because I was actually guilty of doing wrong and my point is that I shouldn’t feel guilty about the things I don’t do… case in point:
Summit burned his hand the other day on my chi when my back was turned. I feel guilty about that, perhaps rightfully so, I should have been watching him better, but today when I took him to therapy I felt like I was an abusive mother or something. He burnt his hand really strangely over the top and side of it and his therapist looked at me suspiciously (ok, not really) and asked how he got such an oddly placed burn. I felt that awkward self-awareness like I felt in the Hallmark store with the glass figurine. I felt flustered and guilty, and stammered out something about how I had no idea. Then I furthered the discomfort by trying to act out with hand motions how he must have grabbed the chi iron. Yeah. She stared at me and (bless her) nodded like I was making sense.
By the time I talked to his third therapist I was acting a little paranoid. I again explained how I had no idea how he must have done it and felt the need to act it out. I felt very conscious of myself, annoyingly so and tried very hard to act normal. (On a separate note: two of his therapists took him to the nurse to look at it.)
Sometimes I still shock myself. That awkward person still exists loud and proud under my easy going personality. I try to squash her but she comes out at the least opportune times. Like right now. How am I going to end this post… feeling uncomfortable…
silence.
Yeah, so that’s it. Come back later for some more wisdom (laughs) from my own humiliating experiences.