According to Psychology Today, guilt is defined as: A natural response to wrongdoing that encourages accountability and personal growth.
While guilt can be essential for moral development and healthy relationships, excessive guilt can irrationally attach itself to every action, word, thought, and hope we experience. It’s like walking on a well-maintained sidewalk, only to find burrs tangled in your shoelaces, hair, and clothing. Illogical, overwhelming, and seemingly impossible to get rid of.
Growing up, I didn’t have the experience of religious or moral perfectionism ridiculed by my sins, didn’t grow up held to the standards or high and mighty leaders, I didn’t have a near death experience, and didn’t fear the hand of my father. Yet I carried the burrs of such an excessive guilt, not knowing where or when I picked them up, that I just recently pulled the final ones from my skin. Friends now would say I exude confidence, am independent, and listen with empathy.
Funnily enough excessive guilt often leads to strong empathy, empathy allows us to understand and feel the emotions of others, guilt makes us feel like we have caused them. By learning to pause, reflect, and release these emotions, I was able to overcome the burdens I had placed on myself. I came to realize that the deep, powerful feelings I had weren’t mine to own. I did not cause the accidents on the news, I did not have a say in who got cancer or self harmed, I did not have the power to see and stop what I didn’t know to look for, and I did not have to take the blame. Repeating this to myself and allowing there to not be an answer to every scenario eased my worry. In the word’s of my husband “It is what it is”.
Muting the mind:
Working with humans taught me many lessons, but my favorite being: we can all be messy, both in physical space and mental. Seeing this every day helped me realize that there is no universal “someone always has it worse” because, in each moment, this—whatever you’re experiencing—is your worst. It deserves time and attention. Though saying this doesn’t instantly stop guilt and worry, here are a few things that helped me:
- Identify the Source of Guilt – Ask yourself: What does this remind me of? Where do I see my place in this?
- Challenge the Thought – What is in your control? What can you actually change?
- Treat Yourself with Kindness – You, too, deserve to feel, to rest, to say no, and even to be selfish when needed.
- Accept Imperfections – Accidents happen, and some guilt is unavoidable. Take accountability, accept it, and move on.
- Say No – Initially, this might come with a million excuses, and you’ll feel the need to justify your choice to others. Though I still hesitate sometimes, I’ve learned that “No” is a complete sentence. There’s no need to explain, but if others ask, you can choose whether to share.
- Accept What You Can’t Control – In truth, there’s very little you can control. Focus on what you can.
By slowly, patiently working through this list, and with the support of my incredibly patient husband, and the reflective conversations I had with coworkers and friends, I quieted my guilty conscious.
I no longer feel bad for disliking things. I don’t force myself into spaces that don’t fit me just because I once believed I should. I’m letting go of the burden of trying to be anyone else’s version of “good.” The world will spin with or without me over analyzing every breath I take, and my tiny footprint—while meaningful—does not carry the power to make or break the universe.
And yet, I still strive to be my best self—not out of guilt, but out of love. I want to grow, to encourage others, and to release the chains that have weighed me down for so long. I’m learning that true goodness isn’t found in shame or self-punishment but in the freedom to live authentically.
If you, too, have been held down by guilt, I encourage you to step back and ask: Am I doing this out of love or out of fear? The moment we stop making accommodations and start releasing what no longer meets our needs, we step into a life of purpose, peace, and true joy.