I was at Barnes and Noble studying, researching, minding my own business. After a brief walk around the store, looking at new titles, I walked back to my spot where an employee was picking up extra books. I saw my table loaded with books I had previously bought right there at Barnes and Noble. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with guilt. For what, I countered? I had bought them, the receipt was somewhere at home or in the dog's kennel or something, but I had truly bought them. This didn't matter. I was flooded with a feeling of "she's going to think I didn't buy them and now she's going to say THIEF in front of everyone in this store and they will stone me with thick biographies."
Continuing in this ridiculous paranoia, I walked to the front to pay for two books I was now buying, not from guilt, of course, and hesitantly asked the cashier what if, say, I really had bought some books and brought them back to the store with me, but I thought the store people, i.e. she, might think I had really stolen them, when in fact, I had actually purchased them over the course of several weeks on my night out, which is always on a Wednesday?
She blinked. I took it to mean she thought I was a thief. She slowly said to just relax about it, as if I had an Uzi in my purse, and suggested I keep future receipts in the books.
It was 45 minutes of total stress, on MY NIGHT OUT, about something that wasn't even true but that I felt guilty for. Ever felt that? The guilt I felt wasn't related to non-stolen books but to all things I have done and not fessed up to. Criminal things, like retelling a story and saying it was Elm Street and later realizing it was Pine Street, or parking in front of the Do Not Park sign to run in a video.
There are two types of people in this world ("those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't") and there are two types of guilt: healthy and pointless. Healthy guilt prompts you to change wrong behavior. Pointless guilt prompts you to eat a box of Ho Hos. With this, you say one thing but think another and mentally carry on several guilt-chats while having a real-life conversation (this, incidentally, is annoying to real people involved in the real conversation).
It's time to squeeze the guilt sponge and let the guilt drain out. To do this try one thing: Say to yourself, "I am not perfect." It sounds simple, even brainless, ("Well, of course I'm not perfect").
Simple things are usually the hardest to practice because of the seeming ease; things like eating well, exercising regularly, getting adequate rest. No-brainers, guaranteed success, and yet still we say, "Oh yes, I should really do that."
This week try this no-brainer: When you lock yourself out of the house, burn the lasagne or forget your son's appointment, stop before launching the guilt-attack. Laugh and say, "I'm not perfect!" and give the guilt sponge a satisfying squeeze.
LIFEChange Tip: When feeling overwhelmed with guilt, stop and enjoy saying, "I'm not perfect!"
Book pick: "I'm a Day Late and a Dollar Short" by JoAnne Larsen.