Guilt Trips Are Pretty Lonely Journeys

I’m blessed to live in a warm community where myself and my family are warmly embraced, but I feel pretty rotten at the moment for turning my back on a gesture of wonderful friendship and kindness.

My neighbor is an avid gardener and welcomed Mrs. Kangaeroo and I to join he and his wife and another couple from the neighborhood to have a tea party and enjoy his garden’s beautifully blooming roses. I was rapt because Mrs. Kangaeroo had baked an amazing cake that she decorated with apple slices she shaped into the form of a rose in honor of our neighbor. Once again, I was staggered to find yet another brilliant talent in my spouse and prayed once more that she never develops a decent taste for men.

Work was supposed to finish at midday today, and even though I was rostered on to perform emergency coverage, I never foresaw any problems.

We were busy, but I headed off to the tea party on my lunch break and assumed things would slow down.

They didn’t. In the end, I couldn’t keep a promise to the guys at work who have gone out of their way to make me feel valued. I felt shattered. I’ve let them down quite a bit and need to work at being a better team player.

I guess it’s the same at home, too. I left the tea party midway, saying I would return in no time. I went back to work for a tsunami of awaiting tasks and had to apologetically call and pull out of the party.

From roses to a rosy faced lovebird, and sad little Dino still looks crook, too. She has been unwell for the past few months now because I let her feed on my scraps for years. Poor Mrs. Kangaeroo has come back from grueling night shifts and gone on the long journey to the avian vet bi-weekly for the past few months, now. And we’re not seeing much sustained improvement.

Guilt and shame are always great rivals in the battle to take center stage in my life, and they were jostling away madly by the time work finished. The prime rival of these negative emotions, self-pity, swept into the limelight when I visited the dermatologist after work and was informed my infected right hand middle finger is permanently disfigured and will probably need to undergo a biospy to determine why it is not responding to treatment. Came home and binge ate for the rest of the night before climbing into bed at an inordinately early hour and getting under the covers. I took great comfort from knowing that I truly do love my neighbor, the lot of them, and am reciprocated by those who matter.