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What If is a question never answered, and so Why Do We Ask the Question? |
| Over the years I have come realise there are two forms of guilt, one is forced upon us from a court of law, the second is self inflicted. Guilt is a wonderful emotion full of self depreciating anxiety and remorse, a voluntary emotion causing unnecessary pain fed upon by those who can never forgive nor accept their own guilt. Yesterday I was talking to a friend who had been victimised by a conman. Playing his final hand, he used words designed to finger the blame by stating how remorseful he would be if he lost her friendship. Of course he would have regrets, by losing her friendship he stood to repay a large sum of money lent to him by my very generous but naive friend. By taking a premeditated course of action with the intention of hurting another the guilt lays squarely at the feet of the perpetrator. Unfortunately there are many who are unable to accept guilt finding a way to off load it by way of excuses. Such was the case with an acquaintance whose accountant was a family member claiming to be the best in the business. The tax department caught up with them demanding payment of accrued tax liability. Believing there was no liability on his part, the accountant claimed his actions were borne of the very best of intentions. At the time, the Oscar Pistorias court case was the focus of worldwide media attention, and the similarities in motive were too close to ignore. Good intentions have left Oscar’s girlfriend dead and her family a lifetime sentence, my friends lives have been turned upside down leaving them almost destitute. Families are very good at offloading guilt, feeding off its effects with a gluttony of neglect. Such was the case in my own family where guilt was sustained through the power of suggestion for more than forty years. Mum was very good at burdening guilt upon the hapless. In my early forties I was advised by my mother that in her expert opinion I was Autistic, or at best, high performing Aspergers. I was both confounded and grateful that she had inadvertently lifted a heavy cloud of guilt from my shoulders. To clarify any uncertainty I took myself to a clinical psychologist who pronounced in no uncertain terms that I was not, nor had ever been autistic, nor did I present any symptoms of Aspergers. From that day on, I understood Mum carried an immense amount of guilt about her feelings toward me. I also came to accept that I was not the child she wanted nor would I ever be, and with that understanding came a lightness of spirit and a glimmer of hope that my life would become free from a sense of duty born of guilt. |
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