On Thriver’s Guilt.

I’ve been trying to put into words why, how, I’m feeling what I’m feeling.

I’ve been trying to put into words what I’m feeling, and why I might be feeling that way.

Photo by Gabriel on Unsplash

In my body, it’s a heaviness. A pain that’s not my own. A sense of despair at the world. And a deep, deep sorrow.

It’s not just white guilt. It’s survivors’ guilt. It’s thrivers’ guilt.

It’s how can I look at myself in the mirror and sit with myself and forgive myself and smile and laugh and joke when all of this is going on? It is wrong. It is just wrong. The world is burning in more ways than one.

And I don’t know how to reconcile this with my own part in it.

And I don’t want to make it about me, because it isn’t about me. This is not my pain. And yet, it genuinely hurts to experience, even if only vicariously. And I am angry and I am sad and I resolve to do better and I am doing better and yet it isn’t enough. Because of course it isn’t enough. Because I can’t hold myself accountable for something that I am not wholly responsible for.

We live day to day. I am smiling with…