beautiful monsters

But I’m not even Catholic!

I feel guilty an awful lot. I’m not really sure where this came from – it wasn’t a feature of my upbringing, that’s for sure. But I definitively picked it up, somewhere along the way. I feel guilty about all sorts of things – succeeding, failing, not saving the world… and you know what? There’s no point. It doesn’t achieve anything. So, I’m making a conscious effort to not feel guilty unnecessarily. So far I’ve got to the point of noticing when I’m feeling guilty, which is a start. You’ve got to notice what you’re doing before you can train yourself not to.

Take tonight, as a case in point. I had a lovely evening – unplanned and unexpected which made it all the more delicious. Nothing like going for an invigorating walk around the coast, and then throwing pieces of concrete around a beach to make a body feel alive. Followed by warmth, cups of tea, gingernuts, good wine, damn fine food and splendid company. Yet, if I counted all the twinges of guilt I felt during the evening, I would run out of fingers and toes. I felt guilty about not helping with the cooking and cleaning up (even though I was specifically instructed not to). And then I thought, this is silly, I should just enjoy myself. For the past few years I’ve been the responsible one who does most of the cleaning etc, and it’s damn nice to go to someone else’s house and not do any of it. But then I feel guilty about feeling good about not having to do the work. And then I feel guilty about even being there, as though I don’t deserve to have lovely friends who are kind to me.

It’s silly. And I should stop. And I’m trying to! But I just don’t get where it comes from?

Also feel guilty about doing three writing workshops (because lots of people applied and missed out) but I’m planning to enjoy them anyway. Although right now I’m freaking out. We just got our first exercise for Kate’s course, writing for young adults. I think it’s going to be quite challenging. On top of the writing, we have to read a minimum of two novels a week, and write a commentary of them. And that’s just one course. I’ve got three of them. Cripes! Also yay! Becoming more and more convinced that writing is what I want to do.

I’m reading The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier at the moment. “The exhilaration of the moment vanished and he sought it in vain, like seeking ecstasy’s memory an instant after jacking off and encountering only shame and guilt.” That’s one thing I don’t seem to have an inherent sense of guilt about. Pre-abuse I felt totally comfortable with sexual pleasure. These days guilt creeps in, but only occasionally.

Speaking about wanton pleasures, I’ve been dipping into The Adulterer’s Bible by Cliff Fell, which was launched last night. Also Good Luck by Anna Livesey. Both are delicious, and reviews will appear on the Reading Journal page when I get around to it.

At book launches I always feel a mixture of exhilaration and despair. The despair part is something to do with thinking “I’ll never be that good.” Until now I have been able to take comfort in the fact that my favourite poets didn’t start publishing until their late 20’s or older. But now there’s Anna, who is only a couple of years older than me. She’s had poems published in numerous journals, won various awards, and now she has published a superb first collection which will probably go on to win further awards.

I can’t decided whether to feel bitter and twisted, or inspired.

I think, instead, I’ll curl up in bed and read.

Posted by Fionnaigh at July 13, 2003 12:09 AM