Feeling Guilty

(here we go again, Lori is feeling guilty about having feelings...)

If my mother knew what I was starting to *feel* about my b-father, she'd quickly remind me that he deserted me and then spew out the bad things that she spewed the night I found out that he was dead. I don't know what happened between the two of them and I can understand why my mother would be angry with my father. My mother has told me stories of not having enough money to feed both of us, so she fed me. Or we'd share a can of food (whatever that food would have been.) I'm trying to put myself in her shoes and think of how I'd feel. I'm very sure I'd of given up the anger after 45 years, but it's not my place to judge someones feelings.

Then again, I was virtually placed in the same situation when my ex-husband left me. It was sudden and I didn't receive child support. I've never told my boys anything bad about their dad. He's the one who was dumb enough to tell them that he had affairs. I never did. When their dad wiped his hands of them because they were KIDS, I was the one who bridged the gap between them. I didn't particularly like my ex-husband after the divorce, but I wasn't going to share my feelings with his children. I honestly believe that if I hadn't of bridged that gap, they may still be estranged.

I'm sure I worked so hard to do this because of my own situation, but still.

I'm feeling disloyal to my mother by even entertaining the thought that my father was a good man. I believe what my half-sister has told me about him. I believe what my aunt told me about him.

..yet I feel guilty about believing it.

I want to know more about this 'new' family. I really LIKE them. I spoke with my other half-sister today and we laughed like we were old friends. I feel very comfortable with all of the people in my fathers family that I've talked to so far.

...yet I feel guilty about wanting more of it.

I need to turn my feelings off for a little while. Too bad there's not a switch, because I'm on overload.

I've been in a situation for a while now that fills me daily with guilt. This post is going to be vague because of privacy issues, but I just need to get this out there in hope that there is someone reading my blog that can offer something. Advice? Permission? I don't know what I'm looking for here. I honestly don't. All I know is that there isn't anyone that I know in my life that would be able to relate to this on the same level.

As my regular readers (you know you're more than readers to me, right?) know, I volunteer with Hospice by making calls to family members of our patients who have passed on. In these calls, I assess how they're doing, let them know of our follow-up services, and I also provide an ear and a shoulder should they need it.

I'm going to admit something here that may sound shocking to some people, but I think it will help you to understand why my current situation is so difficult for me. I got into Hospice because I've always had issues with boundaries. I am the type of person that people lean on. And lean on. AND LEAN ON. I have never really learned how to shut it off properly. My usual M.O. is to dissapear from their life completely if they don't take subtle hints that I feel like I'm being used. I've been a magnet for emotional vampires as long as I can remember and these types of people don't seem to get the hint.

Hospice was perfect for me because I am able to give 110% of myself to someone, and not worry about how I'll 'escape' the situation if it gets out of control because the relationship naturally ends. When I make my phone calls, I am fully theirs. I think about them, sometimes for days or weeks, and wish them peace after I hang up the phone, but the relationship ends when I hang up the phone.

A very close friend of the family lost a family member a few months ago. Offensive things were said and done during the end of that persons life, but I chalked it up to emotions and stress. After the death, there were more offensive and hurtful things said and done. Sometimes to me, and sometimes to or about people I love. This person went on to become ill on top of losing a family member and became very needy. While I can completely understand why this person would become needy, the need was piled upon offensive and hurtful behavior. I tried to remedy the situation, but this person not only didn't understand what they did wrong, they accused me of untruthful things.

This person isolated themselves over the past few years, mainly because of their loved one's health. Because of the isolation, this person only had a few people left in their circle. My husband is part of that handful of people.

I am not in a situation where I can completely shut this person out of my life, due to the relationship they have with my husband. My husband feels obligated morally and emotionally to continue with the relationship even though he has also been the target of offensive behavior over the years. As his wife, it is my obligation to support my husband in the things that are important to him.

I'd made a deal with myself that as long as I had to be in this person's life, I would practice my 'boundary' skills whenever we were together. My plan was to always ask, "What was the intention behind that statement (or action)?", just so they'd be put on notice that I was not going to be a doormat or put up with offensive comments and behavior. It made me feel better to know that I was doing something to take care of myself and my loved ones, even if the other person didn't 'get it'.

In theory, this sounds great but I just can't seem to put it into practice because I cannot bring myself to make contact with this person. When I receive email from this person, I cannot offer anything personal. Just answers to questions, nothing more. I do not feel like sharing any details about my life. I don't share with people that I don't trust. As a Hospice volunteer I feel that it is my personal responsibility to use the things I know and have learned through Hospice whenever I'm called upon. I FEEL that I should put aside my anxiety and give this person what they seek.

As the imperfect human being that I am, I bristle and feel horrible guilt over the emails spouting off how 'kind' this person was or that person was to call them, adding "I know how busy you are, so even though I am lonely and needy I understand why you don't call or write".

I supposed I should talk to my Hospice bereavement counselor and ask her advice, but I'm embarrassed that I feel this way.

I don't want to feel this way.

Where have you been all my life?

The Hubs is out on a business dinner, so I decided that tonight I was due for another installment of Inner Outings. Tonight I pulled a card called, "A gift for me".

I've mentioned a time or two that I have an extraordinary capacity for guilt. Shoot, I even have a category dedicated to guilt (look to the right- you'll see it right between family and health.) Hmmmm.

The funny thing is that I feel guilty about things that are completely out of my control. Good fortune comes my way? I feel guilty because it didn't come the way of someone who needed it more than I did.

I once had a therapist congratulate me because I went 45 minutes into a session before the word "guilty" passed my lips.

Huh.

Probably the most absurd and long-standing guilt I've experienced has been regarding my job. More specifically, my income. For many years, I couldn't come to grips with the fact that I could make the money I make without back breaking work. I was constantly questioning why *I* was so lucky to have my job, and that there are people who have to work in sweatshops or stand on their feet all day just to make a percentage of what I earn. I just couldn't rationalize it in my head because it didn't seem fair. I've even gone so far as to tell an employer that the raise they offered me was too much.

Do I hear crickets chirping? Yeah, I've already admitted that this was an absurd one.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about purpose and intention, and the things I've studied are starting to really sink in. I'm starting to let go of that guilt because I realize that I was never handed anything. Nobody plucked me off the street and said, "Hey RisibleGirl, you seem like a nice person so we're going to give you this job". That never happened. What happened was I worked for it. I set goals and I achieved them.

If someone looked at my educational background and training and compared it to other people in my position, I'm sure they'd be surprised. I don't have a stitch of formal training to do what I'm currently doing. I've been a waitress and have worked in a sewing factory (that didn't go so well and required several trips to the ER for stitches, but that's another story for another day).

The path to my current position started as a Realtor. I'll bet my mom has no idea that she was the catalyst for my current career. She paid for me to get my real estate license and we worked as a team for a while. That is, until I set my sights on real estate lending. We had a lender that we worked with and I became fascinated by the inner workings of lending, so I decided that this was what I wanted to do.

I told him that when he had a receptionist position open up I'd like him to consider me and I was hired shortly after that. I then asked the processors if I could help them with their files because there wasn't enough for me to do. I learned their job and was promoted to processor within a month. I learned all I could and then talked to the underwriting manager about my desire to become an underwriter. Within six months of that, I was asked to move to another state to work in the underwriting department. Because I hadn't been in lending a year, I had to have another underwriter sign off on my files after I did the work. But I made sure that my work was perfect. There was never a question about any of my decisions. Beyond wanting a job and learning about it, I make sure I do the best job I possibly can once I have it. It's because I have a lot of gratitude for the opportunity I am given.

My current job has nothing to do with lending, but it is at the top of the layers of building blocks starting from that receptionist job. Each job went down a different path until I landed where I am today.

I won't bore you with my entire work history, but that's basically my M.O. I see something I want to do, I find opportunities to learn about it, then I apply for the job. I've never been turned down for any job in which I had an interview. Lucky? Maybe. I'm more apt to think that it's about intent. My intent shows in the passion I feel about the job when I talk about it to prospective employers.

I think that the wiring that most people have that tells them not to jump off a bridge is missing in my head. I've never been intimidated to go after what I want. It's never scared me even a little bit.

And that is what I thought of when I pulled the "A gift for me" card from my Inner Outings Diarist deck. This topic is something that's been renting a lot of real estate in my head for the past couple of weeks. I think I've always known deep down that none of this was about luck, but I had a hard time explaining the principle behind it. Because I couldn't really explain it, I couldn't justify it in my own mind.

But now I understand. This is truly a gift that I give myself. The gift in knowing what I want, then seizing the opportunity as it comes.

The gift of believing in myself.

In case it's not glaringly obvious in the things that I write here, I have an extraordinary capacity for guilt and I feel guilty for things that are completely out of my control. This is something that I'm currently trying to fix.

Although my parents do not know where my blog is, they do know it exists. I've made them promise me that they will not go try to find it, and in return I agreed to send them entries that I knew wouldn't offend them. There are a lot of things in my blog that would offend my parents on many levels, but I also wanted them the opportunity to know what I was thinking and doing. I did this mostly because I was feeling guilty about not writing emails several times a week to my parents anymore after I started this blog. They used to be the recipient of they types of things you might find here.

So, rather than calling my parents after I got the news about my father's suicide, I sent them a copy of the blog the entry and prefaced it with a note that I didn't really feel like talking about it. I really didn't. I had a lot of things to process before I felt capable of talking about it.

I felt guilt over sharing my sadness about my father's death, then subsequent sadness over the way he died. Even though my dad knows that in my heart he is and will always be my dad (vs- my father), it still felt a little disrespectful to mourn this. My dad has always been there for me since I was five; the year he married my mom. My dad has always made me feel that I was 100% his daughter, for better or worse. He's my dad. Simple as that.

My dad sent me a simple, yet very meaningful, note to me yesterday acknowledging my sadness and what a shock this must have been for me. He didn't try to turn it around to say that I shouldn't feel these things because this man never did anything for me, nor did he question my feelings. He acknowledged my feelings and supported me. That's the kind of dad he is, and why I feel blessed to be his daughter.

I want to thank the people who've left supportive comments in my blog after that entry. I have sorted through my feelings and have a fairly firm grasp on what I was feeling and why. I'll write more about that later on this week.

I'm in a much better place now.