In the Shadow of Guilt

Well, just as one can't have Oreos without a glass of cold milk or even dare to imagine Mary Kate without Ashley, some things just go together. And all too often—let's say most often, shall we?—motherhood is accompanied by the nagging, sometimes debilitating, emotion of guilt (with that tired trio of regret, doubt, and second guessing, thrown in for good measure.)

Guilt seems bundled within our XX chromosome mothering genes. And some of that guilt is good. Really. It serves a purpose, and it can help us.

But as you’ve no doubt discovered, mothering guilt can also be a big problem. A looming, mountain-sized problem that clenches our stomachs, robs us of sleep, erodes our peace, and poisons our relationships. How can we ever live as God intended when we’re always huddled in the shadows of Guiltmore?

You won’t be able to locate Guiltmore on any legends key of a 1998 Rand-McNally travel atlas. Nor will a Web site appear after you type and enter certain keywords at mapquest.com. But it’s there—this mountainous range of regret, second guessing and doubt that can only be seen, observed, trekked, and experienced from a mother’s backyard.

It’s a familiar sight where most of us live. And it still looms for me, even though my youngest is now closing in on adulthood with her brothers close behind her. And many days I still find myself trekking the rocky slopes of Guiltmore, pondering questions that range from the mundane to the momentous:

• Was this cavity the result of too many juice boxes when he was little?
• Should we have let her quit piano?
• Was I wrong not to have purchased him drums before age fourteen?
• Will going to public school (instead of the very expensive Christian school or continued homeschooling) hurt our children’s chances for college or turn them into gangsters?
• Did all our moves make our children flighty and insecure?
• Do my children have temper tantrums now because I had anger problems when they were growing up?
• If I let them sleep late this summer morning (so I can get some writing done), will they grow up to be lazy slugs?

Ever found yourself there—in mothering?

Questioning everything you do?

Doubting every choice you’ve made?

Second guessing past actions?

Agonizing over possible future mistakes?1

Instead of hunkering down under Guiltmores’ shadow, you can learn to scale her slopes and move on to where you were really meant to live—on the sunny plains of grace and confidence! And from there—take it from me—the view is really terrific.

However, before we consider some of Guiltmore's more formidable peaks, I’d like you to make another list—yes, I wrote, and you read, another list. Don’t worry, it won’t take you long. Unlike the list you composed prior—this one is going to be made up of the things you feel guilty about.

See! Already some of you have thought of ten things. How crazy is that? It takes us hours to recall what we’ve done right and less time than it takes me to consume three Krispy Kreme doughnuts for the guilt!

Seriously, I’d like for you to do this. As we move along in our discussion, you’re going to have to consider if the guilt you’re dealing with is real or false. You’re going to have to examine it and choose—yes, choose, either to leave the mountainous peak of guilt it represents or keep on dealing with it. The choice will be up to you.

But before you can get “there” you need to be here making your guilt list.

Tell you what—I’ll go first since it was my idea.

Here are things I have, and sometimes still do, feel guilty about:

• Laughing hysterically when one of my potty-training children slipped bottom first into the toilet—legs pointing skyward, arms flailing. More guilt: I still laugh out loud picturing it. More and more guilt: I put it in print.
• Leaving a bottle of cold medicine with codeine out on a countertop and having one of my children drink an unknown quantity. Poison control had to be called and induced vomiting begun.
• Leaving Ricky Neal (my second born) with family members (so I could take my husband to the hospital for surgery) and not being home to spot a bad ear infection that perforated his eardrum.
• Yelling (and I’m talking really yelling) at my children in public.
• Not serving enough (hardly any) vegetables to my family.
• Sometimes wishing I’d never had children.2

Ah, see, I do know what I’m talking about when it comes to motherhood and guilt. And trust me, I could have filled page after page, and more than a few would have curled your toes. The point of our making a list isn’t to prove or disprove who is the worst mother—it is, however, a powerful tool to help you get real about your guilt.

So start writing, ladies.

Or thinking in your head. I know some of you aren’t ready to trust your guilt-ridden thoughts and regrets to paper. I understand and it’s okay—more than okay. Just start somewhere safe—here—and answer the following as honestly as you possibly can:

I feel guilty for saying . . .

I feel guilty for acting . . .

I feel guilty for thinking . . .

I feel guilty for feeling . . .

I feel guilty for allowing . . .

Once you have compiled your list—keep it somewhere you feel it is safe and away from the eyes of others—be prepared to examine your answers as we consider the true or false nature of guilt.

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