The Guilt-Edged Life

Folk philosophers and self-help "experts" (seriously: what kind of person claims to be an expert in living somebody else's life!? I mean, BESIDES me) have hypothesized about the negative emotions that we struggle with when we become painfully aware of our own flawed natures. In my own experience, I can identify three, and this year, I'm going to deal with each of them differently than I have before.

1) Shame. Shame is that mortification and humiliation I feel when I see my flaws through somebody else's eyes: a symptom of valuing their opinion above its worth. I want to learn how to put negative feedback - verbal and nonverbal - into context, subordinate to what I know is true about me, the world, and God. And I want to distinguish between my actions and my identity. I can be mistaken, but I am NOT a mistake. I am Batman, but that doesn't mean I accept all the pop-philosophy of the Christopher Nolan films.

2) Guilt. Guilt is the puritanical conviction that I have made an unfixable error, that I am irredeamable, and that God has abandoned me, and given up. I think there's a part of my nature I call "my inner German nanny" and she's very, very hard on herself. She feels alone all the time, but not because it's true. She feels alone because she thinks not being alone is an illusion and a weakness. My inner German nanny is the one who cleans up after my inner social butterfly gets stepped on, and goes squish. She's amazingly strong. Think Hyde from Moffat's Jekyll. I'm not well-defended or insulated from human interaction. My butterfly does what butterflies do, but there's a toll, and my inner German nanny pays it generously, every time, so she becomes a disciplinarian. She sets the ground rules for my behavior and then exacts the punishment when I fall. And when you consider that all of these characters are pieces of me, "this will hurt you more than it hurts me" becomes an even more painful cliche. Guilt is my emotional punishment of myself. But it retards my progress, and interrupts valuable social interaction. I want to change the way I think about my own weakness and disobedience. Also, I suspect the adversary has had too much influence through this mental pattern.

3) Remorse. Remorse is the sudden or slowly awakening awareness that I have hurt somebody. No other "sin" has any real meaning to me. Sometimes, the only person I have hurt is God (and myself as well, consequently), but I care. It matters to me very much that I am so clumsy. My butterfly - she is clumsy. She's childlike in her honesty, and unrestrained. But she's courageous and passionate, and I need that. But when I hurt somebody, I am always faced with a choice. I can curl up under my own emotional abuse (see: nanny) and prepare for the worst consequences, or I can use my faith in the Atonement. I believe with all the desperation of an otherwise-damned soul that if I do what I can to change myself, to apologize for my mistakes, and to ask for forgiveness, no power to heal will be held back. That's what Jesus was doing. He bought that power and created the system that would make it available to us.

I think, in the end, dealing with my own flaws requires the constant and sometimes concrete reminders that I still don't see clearly. It will require spending more time in a place where the air is clearer of world-smog. And a conscious and prayerful effort to analyze and prioritize feedback.