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Chronically Writing: Guilt


Today is just one of those days.


It was not bad outside. The sun was out and the wind calmed down. Calvin wanted to go outside. My friend's dog, MJ, was out and Calvin loves the dog. I told him to grab his hat, coat and sneakers. Out the door we went. I was watching him from my back stoop and then was playing with him and MJ. A friend was outside and my husband came home from work.


But after everyone left, it was just me and Calvin. I was tired already and playing tired me out more. Calvin was growing bored and played on the outdoor glass table (it was secured). Then, it was getting colder and the sun began to set. I told Calvin it was time to go in.


Normally, I would have embraced all of spring. Ran through the mud. Raced Calvin. Kicked more balls. I would have danced because it was getting warmer.


But the weather changed all of that, It is going to rain here tomorrow and I can feel the barometric pressure change. Calvin was disappointed, of course, but he enjoyed what was inside. I also promised more time outdoors if it's nice Sunday. We usually walk to the park.


It's the guilt about chronic illness that gets to me the most.


The things I cannot do with my son and having to explain to him why I cannot chase him anymore and handle the outdoors. Having my body change so drastically in as few as twenty minutes. I have not figured out how to find another way around it. So far, I've been adaptable and found other methods to do everyday tasks - washing the dishes, folding laundry, even typing on a computer or a tablet. Getting the energy to play is another story.


Just to note: my husband went to work immediately on our kitchen sink after he came home, which has not been working. This was why he could not help and take the child. Not to mention, I try to give him time alone to chill out from work. I could ask friend, but there was that guilt. Yes, I could have asked for help, but a lifetime of abuse makes me believe that I had to do it alone.


Yes, that is partially why I do not like asking for a babysitter either, unless we have to.


Trauma has a lot of guilt associated with it. It's not being enough for those you love. It's finding fault with yourself year after year, hoping to find some way to make ourselves perfect. It's admitting where you are wrong and fixing that - the people pleasing, hovering, love bombing. Those are the dark side of nice.


And I always have to remind myself too: it's not me and it never is about me.


Namaste, everyone!


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