Guilt and shame

Guilt is “I am bad because of what I did”; shame is “I am bad because of who I am”. It seemed my shame was like an overexposed photograph. All white without distinction, I could not distinguish the truly shameful from the everyday things which set off my jumpy, hair-trigger shame reaction. This could prevent a developed sense of guilt. At times, I felt guilty for things I could not control, such as the tribunals I lost, though not all were winnable or deserving. At others, I could excuse myself, I did the best I could. It seems to me these thoughts did not accurately reflect reality, were not a rational response to external factors but an emotional whirlwind.

I try absolutely as hard as I can. All the time.

English bitch Olivia says, You’re frightened that you’ll have [bariatric surgery] and your life won’t change. It’ll stay as it’s always been because this really is who you are. Or words to that effect. I love that character, and hope she will have some character development, not just be the English Villain. She says and does some brilliant things and, because she is English, the outsider, I have just looked up in Wikipedia that she only appears once again. UK broadcast is about three months behind.

This is the usual digression.

Here’s Ten Metre Tower, in which people climb up a tower to look down on a swimming pool, and decide whether to jump. I have done this. There was a crowd up there, and eventually I jumped, not being able to climb down. Watch them. More than one walks to the edge, then walks back, and fear of falling wars in them with fear of climbing down. As they turn away from the edge, fear of the course chosen grows and fear of the course rejected recedes, so several pace back and forth. I remember the exhilaration as I decided to climb up, then apprehension at the top. I am glad I jumped.

I am a human being. I do my best, and make mistakes occasionally. That experience of pacing back and forth between the edge and the stairs down from the tower is a common one, and I have been climbing down. Do I want to jump? (Metaphorically, I mean, I have never been up such a tower again.) Today it was around going cycling, which would be effort but get me out in the sunshine. I took my bike outside and found the chain badly needed cleaning and lubricating after a lot of riding on wet road. So I cleaned and oiled it, and did a bit of housework.

I have been climbing back down the tower stairs. Or not climbing the tower in the first place. It is where I am, I am unsure how to move on from here, and I will not feel guilt about getting here. I know I do my best. I feel guilt and shame would merely enervate me not spur me on, but climbing down means I climb down more easily. Aspiration or hope would be good.

And it is my judgment, not that of others. I know me better than they do.

That group judge me, and I wondered, if I went to the other group how will I feel about them knowing about the first group’s judgment? Am I ashamed of having this happen to me?

olga-boznanska-portrait-of-miss-pearson

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