Guilt. That weird emotion that exists in the background but every now and then, wakes up, taps you on the shoulder, reaches into the depths of your soul and then decides to take an uncomfortable ride for a while.
I’m not talking about natural guilt – the guilt felt after committing a wrong – the sting felt after saying something inappropriate or hurting someone’s feelings. Or the cringe when you remember a prank from childhood that backfired or the look on a loved one’s face when you confess to eating their Easter Egg. This kind of guilt is to an extent fixable - we can say sorry. We can learn, amend our behaviour, become a better human being and move on. No, I’m talking about the general feeling of guilt you can’t explain, that pops up to interrupt a sunny day or a positive thought. And it wasn’t until I started tackling my own anxiety that I realised a lot of the thinking behind anxiety is tied up with the feeling of guilt. I am not going to go into the psychology surrounding the types of guilt – I will leave that to the experts. I just know that for me, sometimes the underlying bad taste of angst that is there when I wake up - is just guilt, sitting on my shoulder like the poisonous parrot it is, trying to make me feel bad about enjoying myself.
A lot of us may have experienced something like this over the last year or so. COVID-19 has had an impact on all of us, changing the way we live our lives. But while there have been hundreds of thousands of people who have been directly affected with devastating consequences; there have also been hundreds of thousands who have not. Lockdown, especially the one in the UK Spring 2020 for some was a time of reflection, sunshine and peace. For those without school age children that needed to be home-schooled, or in careers where the transition from office to home was seamless and who didn’t suffer directly from being physically ill; may be forgiven for their thoughts of how lucky they were. One of the terms I heard flung around a lot last year, especially on social media was, ‘It’s alright for you.’ Comments not necessarily aimed at me (who, I may hasten to add, could work from home, had kids old enough to concentrate online and lived in a part of the country where we could squirrel ourselves away) – they were comments aimed in a vitriolic bitter way to those who weren’t necessarily in the thick of it, who didn’t suffer economically or physically - as if it was their fault they weren’t suffering enough. ‘Go on then’ – the commentators seemed to spit – ‘suffer some survivor’s guilt instead’. Oh my – that guilt seemed to seep into every living cell. I felt guilty that I was feeling OK. There were days I had to give myself a good talking to, reminding myself that it didn’t make me a bad person, just because I was ‘lucky’ enough to be able to hunker down in my little bubble and ride out the pandemic almost unaffected. I gave myself a similar talking to recently when I had the vaccination while more than half the world hasn’t.
One thing they didn’t tell you about in the Ladybird book of Becoming a Parent, was that alongside the exhilaration, love and pure exhaustion felt when your Little Poppet popped into the world; would be the overwhelming feeling of guilt. Actually, the first time I experienced Mummy-Guilt was when I was pregnant, and had my mind set on the type of birth I had planned. Mood music, candles, water and a soothing massage was what I had in mind. Medical induction, screaming, emergency C-section and a catheter was what I had. After the initial joy of giving life to another human, I instantly felt guilty I hadn’t experienced childbirth ‘properly’. As if I had let the side down. A woman’s desire once the decision is made to have children is to give birth naturally – and I had failed. I didn’t know who I was supposed to have let down. Me? My son? Womanhood? But the guilt of it stuck with me, so much so when it came to son number two, three and a half years later – even against advice, I was determined to try again for a ‘natural’ birth to make myself complete. The inevitable happened – all the things that could go wrong did go wrong and I ended up in emergency surgery again. More guilt ensued. My body had failed me again, and instead of seeing the wonder in the two joyous little creatures we had created – I just beat myself up for a long time.
Early motherhood in reality is as hard as it gets, but just so you suffer a little bit more, guilt certainly plays a big part in those early decisions. You are made to feel guilty if you don’t breastfeed, guilty if you do. Guilty if you let your baby feed on demand 24/7 or stick to a strict routine. Guilty if you decide to go back to work, and then guilty if you use paid childcare. You feel guilty if you use a jar of baby food rather than have time to mush up organic chickpeas and home-grown carrots. Guilty for not feeling happy 100% of the time - instead feeling cross, tired and hopeless. Surely you should be bursting with euphoric pride at your baby’s amazing ability to fill a nappy two minutes after changing or be suitably impressed at the sheer distance achieved with a projectile vomit? I felt guilty I didn’t live up to the images of clean beaming bouncing babies and perfect flawless glamourous Mummies splattered across the plethora of Mother & Baby magazines that were thrust at me by well-meaning visitors. All I can say is thank goodness Instagram wasn’t a Thing when my two were little. And if you did have a grumble to someone or admit to feeling flat – you would feel guilty for even complaining. Surely, you should be grateful you even have a baby to complain about?
Guilt is very much tied up with what you think people think of you, of being judged. It is associated with what you think you should be doing or saying, rather than just doing what you want or what you know is right for you.
The trick I have learnt is to not give a hoot anymore.
I spent too long in the past worrying about worrying. I still have days where I feel guilty for no reason, almost as if my mind wants to bring me down for the sake of it. Yes, each time Spring comes around, I feel guilty I never got around to planting the tulip bulbs out back in Autumn. Yes, I feel guilty while I work at my desk as the dog looks at me with her brown soulful eyes, head resting on both paws as she longs for the extra dog walk or treat. And yes, I do feel guilty I could do more for my neighbours or for lonely relatives that live 400 miles away and guilty I haven’t texted or called friends I haven’t heard from in a while.
But I figure if I am so wrapped up in the complexity of my own guilt complexes - constantly worrying about offending people and feeling guilty about it - I am never going to feel free to concentrate on the real needs of those close loved ones around me.
And then I really WILL feel bad.
© The Real Tilly Fairfax
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