On Guilt

"There is no needle...so there is no pain."

-Aeon Flux

"My problem is that...it's consuming me. I don't think I can deal with this shit. And I think the only way to feel better is to come clean." Steve is flustered. This is not an uncommon occurrence. Over the few years I've known him, I've learned that this frustration of his is an unfortunate side effect of his empathy.

"I don't think you've listened to anything I've said, friend. Coming clean changes nothing. Past is past. You have to look to the future...you have to

live

!" My arms are extended in some sort of blasphemous gesture. Steve is not impressed.

"Shut up! God..."

"All right," I'm laughing, "Seriously, what does coming clean do? You're done. You're guilty. Nothing can change that."

"Yeah, exactly: guilty. I have to get rid of that feeling. It's killing me. I swear."

"No, no. You misunderstand me. I mean guilty in the

physical

sense.

Physically

, you did those things.

Physically

you made some mistakes–"

"Yes I'm aware of that."

"I mean physically, yes, you're guilty. You committed certain acts. Your problem is that you're confusing, or rather associating, physical guilt with emotional guilt."

Steve is curious now; I don't think I've given him this speech before. "What do you mean...what's the difference?"

"It's simple, friend. The things you did were physical acts. They're finished. And although they are in the past (and actually could be considered to be nonexistent, but that's a whole other issue), they are real. But this other guilt, this 'guilty conscience' as it is referred to, is not real. It's in your head. You can't grab it or smash it or push it out – if you could, you probably would have by now. It's not

real

."

"I think, therefore I am."

"Whatever, Caesar."

"Wait...What? That wasn't Caesar. Caesar wasn't even-"

"This guilt in your head is no more real than the sex I'm going to have tonight with that girl walking by outside." I gesture toward the window. Steve leans his head over.

"Where?"

"She's gone."

"Was she hot?"

"Yeah. It's imaginary. You're

imagining

this guilt. You, and only you, are allowing it to exist – not that it does actually exist, it

seems

to exist – inside your head. It's nothing but the product of nerve impulses and electrical signals and quasars –"

"Quasars?" Steve looks at me accusingly.

"Look, I'm no neurotic-"

"Neurologist?"

"Whatever. But I do know that this shit can be defeated. It can be conquered just the same way as a bad dream can be conquered. You have a nightmare and you're terrified. You wake up in the dark; you might even scream. But as soon as you turn the light on, that fear begins to subside."

"Yeah but this guilt isn't going to subside so quickly."

"Neither does the fear from the nightmare. Flipping on the light

begins

the process. Sure, those images that so terrified you in your dream may remain with you for the rest of the day, maybe even the rest of the week. Fuck, man, I still think about some of the nightmares I had years ago. Occasionally. But do I let those images haunt me on a daily basis? Of course not. You, my friend, are allowing something as unreal as a nightmare to ruin your life."

"Okay, but wait," Steve sits up, excited. "Most of the time if you have a nightmare, it helps to talk about it with someone. I mean, that's what psychiatrists are for, right? And if this guilt is like a nightmare, maybe it's best if I just come clean with Laura."

"Interesting. However, I only said that nightmares were similar to guilt in that they are both unreal, imagined. I never suggested that in dealing with the two, similar courses of action would be certain to yield similar effects. If you ever have a bad dream, feel free to talk to me about it..."

"Fuck off."

"That might help you. Do you think it would benefit you to talk to Laura about this girl? What do you think would happen? What do you think she would do?" Steve leans forward with his face in his hands.

"She'd lose respect. She'd be angry."

"Yep. I think that's the only correct thing you've said so far. Let me go over my notes...wait, there was this – oh no, that was me. Forget it. It wouldn't benefit you; it wouldn't benefit her. Things are good between you two right now. Don't let this nightmare ruin that."

"So, I have a bad dream, and I wake up and flip on the light. And that begins the process of defeating it?"

"Yes."

"But there's no switch I can flip. There's no button I can press. There's no magic potion I can drink-"

"Ok, I get it-"

"That will begin this process when it comes to the guilt."

"Ah, but there is, friend, there is. You just don't know what it is yet." I smile. Steve looks at me patiently. Questioningly. Angrily.

"Well are you going to

fucking tell me

?"

"The switch, my friend, is ignorance. This little guilt problem of yours is like that weird kid in elementary school who wanted to be your friend. You wanted nothing to do with him, but he kept hanging around. He'd weasel his way onto your team during recess, he'd sit beside you in the lunch room and tell stupid fucking jokes that no one thought were funny." I lean forward and point at Steve, "He may have even found some way to invite himself over to your house after school one time. But what did you do? You ignored him. And after awhile, he vanished. Gone. And everyone was happy. You got rid of him by ignoring him, and he found someone else to annoy."

"But what if he got really depressed or something and-"

"

Oh who gives a fuck what he did

?! Not you! You were rid of him, and that's all that mattered. Ignore him, and he'll go away."

"But I wouldn't do that. I couldn't act that way toward another person."

"And that, friend, is why your guilt is killing you." Steve is silent for a moment.

"And you think this works?"

"I know it does. For me."

"I'm not like you."

"You can change." We don't speak for awhile. Steve goes to his room and puts on some shitty music. Then I hear him typing on his computer. Half an hour later he returns, and I can tell he has formulated a new approach. He speaks.

"Ok, so this whole nightmare analogy."

"Man, I thought we were done with that."

"You talked about a nightmare.

A

nightmare. What if I was having nightmares every night, or worse yet, what if I had the

same one

every night? Then it would be impossible to ignore, because no matter how much I managed to forget about it during the day, it would happen all over again that night and terrify me just as much. That's what this guilt is like. It's not one bad dream I had. It's the same dream every night. Every day."

"Look, if you were having terrible nightmares every night, I would say the simplest and cheapest solution would be to buy some sleeping pills. Powerful ones; those kind that just knock the shit right out of you so you can't even remember your dreams."

"You think I need sleeping pills to solve this problem?"

"No, I think you've been doing enough sleeping around as it is." I hold my arms up in an "it's good" football referee position. Steve isn't impressed. "Look, two things. Firstly, this guilt of yours isn't like a recurring nightmare because there's no way it can be as powerful from one day to the next. It

will

fade, over time. Just because you've felt like shit for the last two days, doesn't mean by this time next week you'll feel as badly. Secondly, I never told you the other half of the formula."

"Which is?"

"Distraction. Ignorance and distraction, friend. Those are your two rocks. When you feel too weak to ignore, find something else to do. Distract that little kid who wanted to be your friend – point at something imaginary, and then when he turns around to look, run away. Then, come back later and push him down in the snow and steal his hat and shove snow down his shirt and pants..." Steve is just staring at me.

"Dude, you have issues."

"Look, you get the point. Ignorance and distraction. I'm telling you, this combo works. After awhile, you won't even notice you're ignoring anymore, and your distractions will become legitimate activities. You'll be like that stereotypical fucked up army corporal who's killed so many people in battle that the only way he can maintain his sanity is to ignore the screams in his head and go about his job callously. Isn't that

cool

?"

"Shit man, I don't know."

"Don't you want to be a fucked up army corporal?"

"Whatever."

"Remember that movie we saw with that guy in Vietnam? And he was like, 'This is my war, general. How dare you come in here with your red tape and paperweight bureaucracy and tell me how to-"

"Man, that movie sucked shit."

"Ignorance and distraction. It's such a simple strategy that no one thinks of it. And many of those who do think of it don't bother testing it because they don't believe they can pull it off. Hold on to these things; they're my gifts to you. It's like the Alpha and the Omega. The beginning of the end."

"It's beginning

and

the end."

"Whatever. I never watched

Star Trek

."