Mommy? Do we have to leave because of me?


There's a lot of guilt in the world, and sometimes the people who feel it the most aren't the ones who deserve it. Personally, I've had a lot of guilt trips in outer space, and I always come back with red, stinging eyes and a question in my head. "Am I really a bad person?"

I've managed to let a lot of guilt go, and the lack of guilt is like a miracle drug. I breathe easier, because I cut down on stress. I'm more optimistic, and I realize I'm not a horrible person because of little things I said years ago. It took me a long time to realize that.

I remember when I was nine or ten, and no longer liked being called a “little kid”. I resented being called little. I was big, wasn’t I? I was mentally ill and feeling very small in an always crushing world, so being called little was also crushing in its own way. I was big and strong and in control of my own life, or so I told myself. I told myself that because I didn’t feel that way.

The world was sweeping me up in a wave, and I was helpless. I was tossed here and there and told this and that, I felt good and bad and couldn’t figure out how to tell anyone how I felt. The guilt slithered in like a serpent. It lived in my gut and coiled around my fears. It made me want to throw up at times, and made it impossible to get words out when I needed to.

I still feel guilty for certain things. The names I called my mother, the most horrible, spiteful things I could think of, I still feel guilty for. I summoned them up from the deepest, angriest parts of me, because I was so angry, and so hurt, and I needed her to see. See what? I’m still not sure. I just needed her to know how I felt, and seeing as the snake cleverly cut off all forms of effective communication, I was just plain pissed off.

At one point, I made my dad cry. I remember that better than I remember yesterday. I hated myself for it. I’ve gotten over that hate, but it still hurts. Most of the guilt I put on myself has evaporated, and many things I can remember don’t even bother me anymore. What really hurts is when you ask someone… is this my fault? And they say yes.

When I was ten or so, our landlord told us to leave. He wanted to rent our apartment to his nephew and his nephew’s daughter. I asked mom if we were being evicted because of when I cried or yelled. Mom said yes. She was angry, and her words were bitter as she said them. We were losing our home because of me.

Later I realized this wasn’t true, and while dad told me the landlord had never even mentioned my crying, mom now says she doesn’t remember ever saying anything like that. But I remember, and it hurt for the longest time. We lost our home. It was my fault. I carried that around for years, and I tried to bury it. It was something thick and tangible that choked and hurt. I think my point is, guilt can be devastating. There are things you can say that will stick with someone, and they stick for a long time.

Don’t think I’m innocent of it myself. I’ve hurt people with things I’ve said, and I bet you have, too. All it takes is a handful of careless words, or a retaliation in anger, and someone might go their entire life, or at least years, blaming themselves for something that was never their fault. Words have power. Never think they don’t.