It's the guilt that gets me.
Not other people's guilt trips. Oh no. Not to belittle my own childhood (which was pretty darn fantastic) but it included a number of (mostly) positive and soul-shaping experiences at church camps, retreats and the like. Those experiences always include, for lack of a better way of expressing it, guilt. After all, one cannot grow into a better person without recognizing that one has some growing to do. The down side is, one becomes inured to guilt trips over time, and thus they lose their power.
inure: to habituate to something undesirable, especially by prolonged subjection; accustom
Once, someone attempted to motivate me to do something I actually wanted to do, but their motivator was, "If you don't, I will be angry." For that reason I didn't do it.
I know. Ornery.
Yesterday, one of you walked into the office and commented, "You quit blogging!" There was no guilt attached to it. He's not that kind of guy.
But my own guilt kicked in. Because not only have I been neglecting you ... I also promised to review a book for a friend of mine ... and that was before Christmas.
My friend has been nothing but gracious about it. I wish she'd guilt-trip me. I am inured to that.
So ... cue the regular speeches ... been busy ... nothing to say ... don't know if anyone's reading anyway ... plus the brief alien abduction set me back a little ...
Here's my goal. A book review, to be posted sometime Monday.
Unless you guilt me. Then all bets are off.