5:41 p.m. - 2007-06-21
guilt and more guilt
I wrote a letter to CrushBoy, which probably contained much of what I would have said to him had we actually conversed Friday night instead of playing Trivial Pursuit, etcetera. I wrote it Monday, when I was sleep deprived. And in lower abdominal pain (not the fun kind, either). With infection and possibly fever. Really, a bad state of mind in which to write a letter. And then I mailed it. Proof that I was too far gone to be trusted.
CrushBoy spent yesterday morning dealing with the IRS, with an afternoon of dealing with the accursed hotel. Then he got my letter. I'm not sure when my timing has been worse. (I should take a poll of people who have known me since high school and see.) He was, according to mutual friend, "in a blind fury when he came home from work." If I was ever looking for proof that I'm an ineffective reader of my own writing--that's the one. It is also proof that I should hold onto these things for a couple days.
So here I am feeling guilty. But it is not simple guilt, oh no. It is multifacited and shiny. I feel guilty for making him angry. I feel guilty for not feeling comfortable telling NMH about my gaff. I feel guilty for possibly being a hypocrit. I feel guilty for not remembering better what I wrote--as clearly I said something over the top. I feel guilty for adding stress to someone who was already over-stressed. I feel guilty for feeling so emotionally responsible--like I'm blowing the whole "forsaking all others" part of my wedding vows. I feel guilty for not having more sense in my timing. I feel guilty for not going to the doctor sooner, since once the antibiotics kicked in I began regretting putting the letter in the mailbox. Guilt, guilt, guilt. The nuns would be proud. My grandmothers might be, too.
So I've been doing my best to distract myself. Reading other diaries, doing quizzes on Blogthings, sending e-mails. And all the while I wait for word from him regarding *when* we're going to have the conversation about the misbegotten letter. Because, naturally, he wants to talk about it.
And I feel guilty, because what I did is the sort of "back of the brain analysis/solution" thing I think I accused him of in the letter. And I think *that* is what brought the blind fury.... We are far too much alike in some ways. But that is something for another time. Which I will have the sense not to publish. She, like he, can be taught....
