Making Peace With Guilt

“The guilt can be laid to rest. And once you decide to do that, you may discover the real purpose of that mistake - the lesson. Guilt is a feeling. Lessons bring wisdom. You need the latter to move forward. So take that, and run forward.”

I was baking chocolate chip banana oatmeal muffins in the kitchen as I read the above words on my laptop by Parool Sharma, a healing arts champion.

Guilt has always shown in the form of punishment for me - a guest I’d invited out of obligation and who’s now overstayed their visit. I’d love for it to leave but I don’t have any polite means of saying so.

I never imagined guilt as serving a lesson in my life though. Can I really get rid of guilt so easily? Is it as simple as letting it serve its purpose and laying it to rest as Parool suggests?

The trick though, lies in being mindful of your present and choosing to live in the now. As Parool says: “…the past is gone. What’s done is done. You have work to do in the present. If guilt is still tugging at your heart, CHOOSE not to answer its call.”

Easier said than done, right?

Especially if you’re a chronic daydreamer like me who uses fantasy and escapism to run away from your regretful past and challenging present. Dwelling on your future is out of the question as the future is always a blur -especially when you’re raised in a family of overthinkers.

You see, being mindful of your present demands you to fall in love with your now. For an average person like me, it can be excruciatingly boring to fall in love with my present. I’m an average-looking person married to an average husband with average kids and an average career living a Very Average Life.

What is there to love about average? There’s nothing extravagant about average. Average is quite unexciting, and unstimulating. If average was a flavour it would be vanilla.

While I find vanilla nice and sweet, I find it quite basic and unimaginative. I love flavours that tickle my senses - sweet is plain and nice but sweet combined with salty is fun! Spicy is exotic. Like my fantasies.

The draw of my fantasies has been so strong that I’ve practically created an alternate, exciting world in my head. Living in my head is attractive and easy. I know because I’ve lived there for decades now - since my childhood.

It’s the middle age, my 40s that has been a rude shock. My therapies have convinced me that living in my head is not serving me any purpose. I just hate to admit it. The romantic affair going on in my head was sexy!

The aroma of sweet bananas and deep, dark chocolate chips coming from my oven fills my kitchen. I use the leftover olive oil to smear my fingers and massage the back of my neck in soft, gentle strokes.

Where do you carry your guilt in your body? For me, it’s at the bottom of my nape, the part that connects my head to the rest of my body, just around the cervical region of the spine. This is where I’ve stored years of untold stories. It’s left me with an unimpressive, protruding bulge at the back. My father had the exact same bulge. So does my mother. All that cumulative generational weightlifting has started to feel burdensome now.

Did guilt arrive to teach me a lesson? Could I possibly make peace with guilt at this age?

My insides loosen up and expand a little, the minute I think of guilt playing a productive role in my life. Until this moment, I didn’t realise how constricted my insides normally are. It’s like you’re stuck between four brick walls closing in on you and there’s no escape in sight.

But, in this moment, I feel light. The knots in that protruding bulge seem to untie themselves. The space that’s created feels vast. I can breathe more freely. There’s room for an alignment between my thoughts and emotions - everything feels cohesive, not repressive.

Suddenly there’s more vacancy of space inside me. Is this the allowance of just being?

Could This mean ‘living in the moment’?

I imagine my little girl waking up in the morning delighted her mother has baked her favourite. “These are the best chocolate chip banana oatmeal muffins ever!” she usually remarks. Maybe I’ll pack an extra muffin or two so she can share the love with her friends.

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A few weeks ago, I read aloud an uncomfortable personal essay to my family. My husband spent the next few nights hugging me at night while saying, “Thank you” for no apparent reason.

My teen has been creating music and invites me more frequently than before to share his enthusiasm.

Maybe ‘average’ isn’t as boring as I imagined it to be.

It’s been hard to tear myself from my alternate, spicy world of fantasies but the few glimpses I’ve had of my present make me curious to explore this average-ness with new eyes.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, I promise myself to visit this space of lightness more often. Hopefully, I’ll stay here longer too.

Thank you, Parool. I want you to know your essay has been such a gift.