Some days (depending on if Brian needs to be dropped off, my mood and the traffic, etc.) I head out Blackmarsh Road to get to work instead of my usual Kenmount Road route. Alojng that route there is a Catholic cemetery and church. The other morning I went this way, and unconsciously caught myself “blessing myself” (making the Sign of the Cross) when passing the cemetery. Caught me by surprise, since it’s something I haven’t really done since I was a child riding in the car with my parents (people who are regular church-goers, though I suspect it’s mainly for the jokes :) ). The surprise led to a tad bit of guilt for not seeing my parents or going to church as often as I “should”…
I consider myself a practising Catholic (though granted perhaps I don’t practise often enough) and a generally good Christian, but one thing I definitely suffer from is a dose of good ol’ Catholic Guilt, though not in the Wikipedia sense, not consciencously. And I think that leaves me predisposed to feeling guilt over a number of things, from not finishing my thesis yet to not seeing my family enough to not cleaning the house often enough to not being a “good wife” to not being more productive at work to not exercising more to not being assertive enough to being too assertive at times to not writing more letters or calling friends to… well, to a fairly endless list. Surprisingly, I don’t worry all that much - I rarely lose sleep over these things, but then again I haven’t had a fully refreshing night of sleep in a long long time - but I think that’s more of a mechanism my mind has come up with so that I don’t end up in a frenzy or something, rather than me not actually worrying.
I came to the realization this morning that when I have deadlines and “things to do” (and I always have deadlines and “things to do”), I don’t get full enjoyment out of the good moments in life. I managed to leave it all behind for our last vacation, but generally I can’t do that for a long weekend (or a normal weekend). I think I’ve set up a condition/deal with myself that if I don’t have most things accomplished on my infinite list of “to-dos”, I can’t really have that much fun. I don’t have to constantly worry about them, but I don’t get to anti-worry either. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to certain things (I refuse to accept a less-than-perfect Duck Hunt score, and would reset the Nintendo if that happened), so maybe I’ve set my standards too high. Maybe I’m always disappointed that I’m not “reaching my full potential”.
Why am I telling you all this, oh ye in internet land? Maybe I’m talking to myself, and you’re listening in. Maybe I think you all need to get to know me better. Maybe I’m asking you to back the frig off when complaining I don’t blog often enough, because you’re making me feel guilty about THAT too.
I could be a good psychological study, yes? Or a great drunk… but the emotional hangover would suck, another guilt line to add to the list. :)