I want you to imagine the most irritating person you know. The person who, no matter how many hints you give, no matter how hard you try, does not seem to leave you alone. Who always manages to get under your skin, even though you know they’re not worth your time.
That is how I see my guilt.
This is the most honest I have and will ever be on here. I have talked about the guilt I’ve felt on a surface level, but I’ve never gone further, because talking about it is scary. At this point, I know guilt like an old friend, and guilt knows me, all too well.
I want to preface this by saying that I know none of this is rational. But no reassurances from anyone is going to dispel any of it. At this point, I really don’t think it’s going to go away.
Guilt first appeared when I was eleven, and it latched on quickly. That was when Ellen started to deteriorate, spending longer stints in hospital. That was when I started to understand what was going on, the kind of pain she was in, every day.
I’ve realised I am the kind of person who needs to feel like they have control of a situation. I need a plan. I need to know exactly what is going to play out, what problems will arise and exactly what I need to do about it. Which makes it extremely difficult to have little control over anything going wrong. When Ellen's health started to get worse, I felt completely helpless. And truly, I don’t think there’s a worse feeling.
Knowing that my sister, the person my whole life revolved around, was in pain, and there was absolutely nothing I could do, was the most gut wrenching thing I have ever experienced. And it was the beginnings of my guilt — for not being able to do more. For not being able to fix it. I was angry, so angry, and I lashed out at everyone. And then I felt guilty for that, because no one deserved it.
Every time I saw Ellen struggle, I would go to bed wishing that when I woke up, we would’ve somehow swapped places. That Ellen could live the life I had the privilege of having, where I could go to school and be with my friends and forget about it all for a few hours. Where a legitimate worry was what I wanted to do with my hair. Where I could take life for granted.
Ellen and I weren’t identical - I feel like this is a known fact by now. But we were twins. By all accounts, we were the same. And I would spend probably too much time wondering why, with that in mind, our lives were so different. Why it was her that had to deal with all that she did, instead of me. And I felt guilty for that. I still do.
It has gotten so much worse since Ellen passed away.
I no longer can have the childish hope that maybe one day she will get better, or that like every other time, she will pull through. I can no longer hope for some medical development to save her. Because she’s gone, and there is nothing I can do to bring her back.
I could ignore the guilt before, somewhat. Or at the very least, I could understand it wasn’t realistic. Once Ellen passed away, it began to take over my life.
I can’t experience anything good without questioning whether I deserve it. I can’t be happy without berating myself for it. I can’t feel anger without wondering why I believe I have any right to feel that way, when I don’t know the half of what happened.
I walk through life on eggshells - terrified to take up too much space in a room. Terrified to screw up, because maybe one mistake will be the last straw. I am a chronic people pleaser, mostly because I am terrified that I am not enough just on my own. There have been periods where I’ve isolated myself from everyone, tried so hard to push everyone away, so that I cannot burden them any more than I feel like I do.
I am terrified that like I resent myself for the fact that it wasn’t me, everyone else secretly does too. And I feel guilty about that, for being surrounded by so much love and doubting all of it. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot wrap my head around the fact that maybe other people see me differently than how I see myself.
The thing is, my life actually is going well. I am going back to uni soon, and I’ve never felt so excited about anything in my life. I have such incredible friends, an amazing boyfriend, the best family I could ever ask for. I have a job that I love, with people who honestly have saved me (hi bex love u xx). All things considered I am very lucky. But I feel guilty for that. There is a constant voice in my head that tells me I don’t deserve it.
It has, admittedly, gotten easier. Maybe it’s the type of pain that’s healed with time. It’s definitely something I need to work through myself. But I am so grateful for each and every person who has been there for me in the last year. I appreciate it more than you know. Thank you for dragging me kicking and screaming through my lowest points. Thank you for always surrounding me with love.
I’m not saying any of this for reassurance. I’m just tired of bottling it all up. I know it’s not rational. I know Ellen wouldn’t want me to feel this way, that no one else really does. That is enough permission for me to keep living, despite the guilt. <3
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