Not Guilty

Tonight started vacation Bible school at our church.  Molly opted out, but when Anna burst into the house with exuberant reports about how much fun it was, she might be convinced to go tomorrow night.  (Anna was sporting a fabulous new headband and an elaborate Egyptian eye make-up job, which might have added to her convincing effect). Anna left nothing out of her descriptions.  She gave us every detail, including a list of every single person we knew who was there. 

I relished her excitement.  

I also felt guilty.

This is something I hate about myself.  I experience guilt often.  For all kinds of reasons, fresh and ancient, shallow and deep.  Once, my mom was trying to get to the bottom of who opened a new package of liver sausage. (I don't know why it was a big deal). She was interrogating all of us, and then she said, "Tiffany - you look guilty! It was you!"  

First of all, I was not really a liver sausage eater.  I was not a logical choice.  Secondly, the crazy thing is, I felt guilty even though I didn't open the liver sausage.  My sister Kelly finally piped up, "I did it - for crying out loud, Tiff, how can you look guilty about something you didn't do!"

You have probably noticed this if you've followed this blog.  I obviously often feel guilty about not being a good enough mom.  World Citizen. Whatever.  

Tonight, I felt guilty because I did not volunteer for helping out at vacation Bible school.  Yes, it's my first year at this church.  Yes, I worked years and years of VBS before I had children of my own. No, I wasn't asked to volunteer this year.  I never saw a sign up sheet.  I know I don't have to sign up for everything at church, and yes, I am currently in charge of the backpacks for New American kids project (which I of course feel I'm not doing a very good job with).  But nevertheless, I feel guilty. And I know full well I don't need to.

This is something I desperately wish I could change about myself.  I have tried and tried to rid myself of this tendency.  Even when I am feeling a sense of peace, I would bet a cottage on Keuka Lake that I feel more guilty than the average person.  And yes, I feel a bit guilty about wanting a cottage on Keuka lake.

If you are about to be caught for a crime of some sort, please do not use my admission to shield yourself and attempt to frame me.  Don't put my name on your offshore bank account.  Don't try to manipulate me by trying to make me feel guilty, because believe it or not, I've actually gotten pretty good at sniffing that one out because in the past, that weakness of mine has been taken advantage of enough times....  

If I were going to try to break the pattern, I would sleep in tomorrow.  I wouldn't run.  I would let my kids get their own breakfast and lunch.  Jeff would have to take care of dinner.  I wouldn't do laundry, dishes, clean a thing.  I wouldn't pay attention to the dog or the kids, for that matter.  I would eat whatever I wanted to.  I would not work on the backpacks or make necessary phone calls.  I would go get a pedicure.  

A claustrophobic would fare better if you locked them in a little closet.  Wouldn't Freud have had a field day with my id, ego, and most of all, my superego?!