A Small Reminder I Needed Today

Earlier today I said something sharp. It came out of feeling unseen and taken for granted in a small but familiar moment - an assumption that I would do the dog walk before my shift, without it ever being asked.

I responded badly. Not because I didn’t care, but because I was already holding too much.

Afterwards, I could feel the guilt rise immediately - not just about what I said, but about everything it touched. The Earth constitutional type in me wants everyone to be ok and happy - to my own sacrifice. This means I’ll say something so passive aggressively once I’m at the boiling point that I don’t even realize what I’m doing.

As I reflected on the wounding snap that I got back - the snap back that immediately made me feel guilty about what I’d said - I began to reflect on the layers of guilt that I carry around with me everyday. Silently holding in until my boundaries are stepped on, my patience is gone and I lose the plot. Because we all do at different times, don’t we? But oh the guilt…

• the dog following me around with a look that says, it’s time for our walk, why aren’t we going? Guilt.

• The cat whose mouth is inflamed in pain and I can provide no relief. Why couldn’t I just make a little more money and fix him? Guilt.

• The kids who need structure, patience and consistency I don’t always have. Guilt.

• The husband who needs praise and enthusiasm that I don’t physically have the energy to give anymore. Guilt.

• The friends that I think about all the time but never reach out to because I don’t feel I have anything valuable to share. Guilt.

• The feeling that I wasted money on a university degree because I stayed home with the kids. But oh it’s a gift to stay home. Guilt.

• The staying home with the kids that doesn’t provide any income for the family and puts the entire financial burden on one person. If only one of my silly side hustles would have actually made money. Guilt.

• The things I could volunteer for but don’t have the capacity for. Guilt.

• The hormones that are falling off the radar and even though I have some tools to deal with them - I forget, or get stuck or just don’t want to hold points on my head until I feel normal. Guilt.

• Not having a clean enough house for my in-laws (or myself). Guilt.

• Not picking up every piece of trash when I see it floating around in the environment. Guilt.

• Not trying harder to educate young people about the many things thrashing around in my brain - energy management, environmental stewardship, appreciation of nature, biodiversity, love of Earth. But also Who am I to teach these things? Guilt.

• Not being a better advocate in the community for things I’m passionate about - instead of just complaining. Guilt.

• Not being a better mother to my kids because I let them play too long online, social media, phones, disconnection. Guilt.

• Not being a better friend because talking to the trees is easier. Guilt. 

• Not contributing significantly to the family finances. Guilt.

• Taking a break to sit and watch a show. Guilt

• Judging others for not doing things as I would do them. Guilt

• Wasting gas driving all around town to rescue baby birds that some might believe should have been left for nature to take its course. Guilt.

• I could go on and on and on….

Maybe the problem isn't that I feel guilty.

Maybe the problem is that I've confused responsibility for everything with being a good person. Somewhere along the way I started believing that if someone, something, somewhere was suffering, I should be doing more.

The dog. The cat. The kids. The marriage. The environment. The finances. The community. The future. The entire planet, apparently. And every day I wake up already behind.

And here's the kicker: I'm supposedly the expert. I teach nervous system regulation. Energy management. Boundaries. Emotional awareness. Yet when my own system overloads, I stare at my toolbox like I've never seen it before. Which, naturally, makes me feel guilty about being an expert.

So lady - how do you stop letting guilt run your life? I wish I knew.

My first instinct is to fix it. Hold a point. Balance a meridian. Journal. Release. Reframe. Find the root cause. Surely there is a technique for this. And then I realize what I'm doing. I'm trying to add one more thing to the list. One more thing to get right. One more thing to feel guilty about not doing.

The truth is, as I look back over this list, I'm not sure all of it is guilt. Some of it is grief. Some of it is exhaustion. Some of it is helplessness. Some of it is resentment from saying yes when I meant no. Some of it is watching the world hurt and knowing I can't fix all of it. And some of it is being a middle-aged woman standing at the intersection of children, parents, marriage, money, health, community, purpose and a planet that feels like it needs saving.

Maybe I've been calling all of those feelings guilt because guilt feels productive.

Guilt says, "Try harder."

Guilt says, "Do more."

Guilt says, "If you just become a better version of yourself, this uncomfortable feeling will go away."

But what if it doesn't?

What if some of these things aren't mine to solve? What if the dog can wait an hour? What if the house is clean enough? What if the kids need a mother, not a martyr? What if the Earth doesn't need me to carry her every waking moment? What if being human means caring deeply and still not being able to do it all?

I don't have an answer.

What I have is a suspicion that I've spent years measuring my worth by how much responsibility I can carry. And maybe the next lesson isn't learning to carry more. Maybe it's learning to put some of it down.

As I was finishing this article, I stumbled across an old mantra card I created years ago. Apparently I needed the reminder more than anyone! Maybe that's the thing about wisdom and lessons and life. We don't learn things once and move on. We circle back to it again and again whenever life gives us the opportunity or whenever we need to really integrate the lesson.

So today, I'll start here: