March 24, 2012

• Second-Hand Guilt

  Friday when I went to the doctor to have a routine exam done, the nurse who took my blood pressure and checked my pulse asked me if I “smoked cigarettes.” I said “No”, maybe with a tad of piousness, and then she asked if I am exposed to any second-hand smoke. Again, I said no.

  But, I am kind of feeling like she asked me the wrong question. She should have asked me about second-hand guilt. Because that, my friend, I HAVE been exposed to.

  Not that I would have technically considered that question an appropriate one to be coming from a nurse at the clinic, but it would have at least been more relevant to my life and my health. At least to my emotional health.

  Do you know what I mean by second-hand guilt?

  It is what hounds you on a beautiful, lazy Saturday. A day where you really don’t have that much on your agenda other than maybe making some popcorn and maybe some (optional) lunch for the family, making sure the boys get their residual homework done, and preparing a lesson for the little kids’ Sunday school class tomorrow.

  You picture just sitting around getting the rest of that book finished so you can discuss it accurately at book club on Monday night.

  You picture hanging out in your pj’s and never even venturing outside, unless to take a lazy walk that you WANT to take…not HAVE to take.

  You think of puttering and coziness and yummy food and family warmth.

  And then your husband wakes up all energetic and before you ever even get out of bed, he has been out in his shop welding AND has taken a 5 mile bike ride. (No lie.)

  He’s like a junkie and his adrenaline of choice is to work harder than he has any other Saturday of his life. He’s like the energizer bunny all hopped up on Monster energy drink.

  He goes for a haircut, comes home, quickly changes his clothing and rushes back out the door. When I stop him to ask what he is going outside to do, he graces me with a 10 second pause in which he said curtly “Work”.

  Now, he never said I should come and help. He never said “You lazy girl…sitting around in that house all day.”

  But those things are what the voices in my head are telling me.

  If I was home alone, I would be SO content to putter the day away. I would revel in it. Relish it. Bask in its deliciousness.

  But this second-hang guilt is nagging at my heart. Making me feel like a loser. Because the contrast between what I will accomplish today and what he will accomplish today is stark.

  Does it matter? Maybe not. Did he ask for my help? No, but I know it is always welcome.

  I despise second-hand guilt. Because if I am going to feel guilty, I at least want a reasonable action that I committed to back up the feeling of guilt. I want it to be guilt-worthy.

  So, I putter. I sit around catching up on Facebook, watching “The Amazing Race” with the kids and reading my book.

  I bring some laundry up from the basement, but I don’t fold it. I text my friend about tonight’s activities.

  But that little guilt-monster is sitting on my shoulder and hounding me with its nasty little comments.

  By now, all of the kids are outside also helping Jeremy work. I can hear loud music coming from the shop. Maybe they think that music makes work fun. Who knows?

  And I know myself good enough to know that after I push it off a little longer, I’ll throw on a sweatshirt and my boots and I will make my way out there. If not to help, at least to be supportive and see what is going on.

  But why?

  I was perfectly happy in my little Saturday bubble before he burst it with his all-fired enthusiasm for all things not couch-potato related.

  And here is what confounds me even further. I can be buzzing around doing a hundred different things and if HE is in relaxed mode, it doesn’t seem to bother him one iota. The irony of that is astounding.

  Is it a woman thing? Do we just like guilt so much that we’ll even pick it up second-hand?

  Now that I think about, maybe I WON’T go out there and see if I can lend a hand. Maybe I’ll just sit here and be lazy.

  Maybe I will surprise myself. Its a bad thing to always be so predictable anyway, isn’t it? Or at least, so I have heard. Don’t the experts say you should always keep that element of surprise in your marriage? Granted, this may not be what they are talking about, but since they didn’t specify clearly enough, I am thinking that this qualifies.

  Maybe I WILL finish that book. Maybe I WILL let that laundry sit in the basket until 3 PM. Maybe I WILL. And then I’ll be refreshed enough to start my very own campaign.

  Its catch-phrase just might be: “Just say No. To second-hand guilt.”

  • 1:03 pm
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