guilt

I am a guilty man. I have been found guilty of many things ever since I was just a boy. But, am I guilt stricken? Most definitely, yes. I think there is a distinct difference between the two. The former tends to refer to a charge. To have been “found guilty…” is to apply guilt to another. That, has been found of me many times. 

To be guilt stricken is to apply guilt to oneself. To feel guilty. That is the scenario of guilt that has suited me the most.

Sometimes, to be found guilty can make one feel guilty stricken because the accusers may make a case that appeals to the accused emotions in regards to the situation at hand. Even if has been twisted in a way to conceal the truth about said situation, if the emotions of the accused have been touched just right, both statements can be made the outcome.

In the simplest of ways I can muster…..

If a bad guy convinces other guys that a good guy has done a bad thing, good guy is guilty.
If a bad guy convinces other guys AND the good guy that the good guy has done a bad thing, the good guy is guilty and guilt stricken.If a bad or good guy convinces another bad or good guy that they’ve done a bad thing, but not any other guys, then they are guilt stricken.

And the “good guy” doesn’t necessarily need to be an actual GOOD guy. He could be a bad guy  who tries to pass off as good. Or not pass off as good. That guy just got caught. That guy is a REALLY bad guy.

Point is, guilt can be thrown around and stuck to anyone under the right circumstances. How much one becomes stricken with guilt really just depends on their emotional sensitivity.

I was a sensitive kid. Still am. Though, no longer a kid. I AM A SENSITIVE MAN.
…..that was hard to say. Surrounded by “real men”, a “man” cannot show emotions, or “weakness”…..but I digress.

The things I was, and still are sensitive to had much to relate to other human beings. Mostly, I have a strong empathy for my family, and those friends that have become family. Even the more difficult ones. But really, just my immediate family.
Problem was, my parents were raised in very negative environments, and once they had kids of their own, there was no good rule book to fall back on. So it goes.
It was a combination of this lack of direction and my hyper sensitive empathy for the ones who brought me into this world that is my downfall, and the reason for being so stricken with guilt.

My parents would fight. A lot. Mostly over money, and the future. And they would constantly worry. Mostly about us kids. And who could blame them? It’s gotta be tough raising 3 kids when you don’t have a college degree and you’re working manual labor and reception jobs. Everything you do must be planned and mapped out so you don’t spend too much. This explains an almost neurotic daily routine concocted by my mother, and a more relaxed, yet nuerosis-shrouded approach from my father. But it was the negativity around money  and our future that impacted me the most. 

I began to see money as the CAUSE for my parents’ hardship.

It made me feel bad to ask them for any help with money, or really any help at all because they’d become so negative about it all. I just couldn’t add to their distress. It would only add to mine anyway.
So who’s the bad guy in this situation? Who’s the good guy? It seems that we all have aspects of both.

So I have been flying just above tree level since I could understand the power of money. It scared me. I didn’t want money to turn me into my parents, and yet here I am stagnating. There are so many things I could blame, too. But I won’t. Not now. Not in this entry at least. This is on me. Me and my fickle little emotions.

It’s a fun ride, fer sher.

My guilt is placed on me, and I am bereaved with guilt.
My accuser is in my guilty conscience.
I am my own accuser.

Despite all my fears concerning money, I am beginning to think that a return to school may be in the cards. Which is a mountain I’ve always been scared to climb, but if I do it right it may only be a Sugar Loaf Mountain, instead of an Everest. I’m starting to see it differently.

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