My friend, Guilt

I'd like to sit down here and give a little shout out to my friend, Guilt. She's an gooood one, Guilt. She sticks close to me. She's a shadow of me in the Fall sunshine. Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall. She always stays near. She does so much tearing apart of my insides that you'd think I'd be skinny. Ha! But no. Still here. Here I am. I'm on my second muffin. I'll eat tuna for lunch. It'll be fine.

Is it part of being a mom? Or a woman perhaps? Or maybe, as I sit here with my friend, Guilt, she says to me, "Well, Mel, sounds like a bit of a personal problem, eh? Wink wink. Like, ahem...anyone who reads this will be a-laughing at you and you will still be spending time with me, Guilt, your only friend, as you think about how you fall short, still. Guilty. Lame. Fall short, you do."

You really do.

• Friend? Not a very good one. "You're too busy with all the other things you're doing. You've made that clear."

• Mom? "Um...ok I guess."

• Wife? "Average maybe. When was your last date did you say?"

• Goals? "Where, exactly, did you say you'd be by now?" 

There was a time when I didn't feel this way. I didn't feel so fall shorty. I'm making up for it now, I suppose. There will be some who will appreciate that. I'm picturing high school. Who doesn't picture high school? Popular people?

What to do with it....what to do with it. It's funny. The price has been paid, yes? Christ has paid that cost for us. But then the awkward silence is there, and I try to fill it with something. So, I say something, which turns out to be insufficient, and therefore stupid and then it is there, guilt. ALL DAY LONG. And I pray for it to go away and I know it has already been done, but I wonder what they must think of what I said and what I meant by that and what MUST THEY THINK about what I said?

I used to not care.

I really miss those days.

If I could just put a banner over my head, a big disclaimer that would cover me. Maybe it would say in Georgia font or maybe Helvetica and I'd use those smelly markers:

It turns out, I'm not perfect. I'm not a very good friend. I'm not a perfect mother. I'm not a perfect wife. My house is sometimes really, quite adorable, and sometimes it is an abomination. You'll probably stop by when it is an abomination. Sometimes I say super stupid things, because I don't know how to handle being sad and worst of all, I don't know how to handle being quiet. And frankly, I'm terrified that if it were to be that way, that I might just fall to pieces. I refuse to let that happen. I'm working hard to hold it together.

So, if my banner said that, would it buy me a bit of peace, a bit of solace away from her? Away from Guilt?

Because she's killing me.

Do you know why it really bothers me? Deep down?

Because I wish I could hold this banner instead and that everyone knew and that I never had to worry that anyone knew anything but my true intentions:

"Ignore anything stupid I might say. I actually really love you, and I want you to laugh too. Do you want a latte?"

If I could just hold that banner instead, I think she might go away for good.