Valorie Burton - Let Go of the Guilt: Stop Beating Yourself Up and Take Back Your Joy

2020 Valorie Burton

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ISBN 978-0-7852-2022-0 (eBook)

ISBN 978-0-7852-2021-3 (TP)

Epub Edition June 2020 9780785220220

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020937458

Printed in the United States of America

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May these words be exactly what you need to let go of the guilt and embrace the freedom, truth, and joy you deserve and desire.

Contents

I dont know what sort of guilt led you to pick up this book, but know this: you are not alone. I wrote this book for you, but the truths and steps I share in the coming pages also helped me.

Pangs of guilt, whether I was actually guilty of something or not, have left me anxious and worried throughout my life. Even worse, guilt has nudged me to do things I otherwise knew made no senseas I did one morning not long after I started this project. Perhaps it happened for your entertainment, but it is a prime example of how guilt squeezes its way into our lives and hijacks our emotions and our choices.

It was a Wednesday around 6:55 a.m., and my family and I were making good time. In fact, we were a few minutes ahead of schedule. My five-year-old son, Alex, was dressed and happy and had his teeth brushed, bed made, and shoes on. By this point, midway through the school year, I had given up on insisting my son eat breakfast at the table. He doesnt want eggs or toast. But Id found a new way to entice him to eat his Cheerios. I bagged his cereal in a plastic zip bag and poured him a cup of milk with a snap-on cover so he could drink it in the car. With the reward of a few minutes of games on my phone, hed eat quickly on the way to the bus stop. Voil! It was an easier and faster option than trying to make him sit down and eat this early in the morning. It certainly wasnt the way my mom fed me breakfast growing up, but it worked.

Just as I finished pouring his milk, Alex asked a simple question. Mommy, can I eat my cereal at the table today? he asked sweetly.

Now, that may sound reasonable enough. But he eats slowly. And we werent that ahead of schedule.

My guilt-induced response derailed the morning.

Nope, not today. We dont have time would have been the obvious answer, but that assumes I responded with logic and common sense. Instead, I was bombarded with a flurry of negative thoughts in rapid secession.

Poor kid.

He has to get up so early in the morning. Its still dark out, for goodness sake!

Hes only five and has to be at the bus stop at 7:15 a.m.

All he wants is to eat breakfast at home, and youre rushing him out the door.

Next came the flashback to my own childhood, when walking into the kitchen each morning was like walking into a full-service Southern diner:

Your mother prepared you a full breakfasteggs, bacon, grits, toast with butter or grape jelly, depending on your preference, and orange juice. Every. Single. Morning!

She always made sure you ate at the kitchen table when you were his age, and now your own child has to eat cereal in the car.

Alex sat there looking at me, his sweet face patiently waiting for an answer. I looked down at his bag of cereal and recalled a memory that left me feeling even guiltier.

You see, there was only one morning in my entire childhood that my mother gave me cereal for breakfast. I jokingly refer to that morning as the great cereal experimenther one-time attempt to save some time and feed her child what most children eat every morning.

I am in the third grade. I enter the kitchen of our two-bedroom apartment near Frankfurt, West Germany, where my dad is stationed. I sit down at the table, and my mom brings me a bowl of Rice Krispies with milk and way too much sugar, just the way I like it.

I love Rice Krispies. I eat them after school every day as a snack. I dont know why shes letting me have them this morning before my breakfast, but I dont ask any questions because they are yummy. I pretty much inhale them, so she pours me another bowl. I gobble that one up too.

Then she says, Okay, lets go.

Im utterly confused. But I havent had breakfast yet! I protest.

What do you mean? she asks. You just had two bowls of cereal.

I look at her in disbelief. Cereal isnt breakfast. Its a snack.

Its time to leave for school, and my mom looks both perplexed by my reaction and a little guilty because of it.

Theres no time for me to cook now, Valorie, she says. Weve got to go, or youll be late for school and Ill be late for work.

I grab my book bag and, as we head out the door, I mumble something about how I cant believe shes making me go to school without breakfast.

That was the one and only morning I ate cereal for breakfast.

Decades later, that morning flashes in my mind. The result? While my son actually likes cereal for breakfast, my eight-year-old self whispers the refrain Cereal isnt breakfast, and I feel a tinge of guilt for giving it to him. Layer that on top of all my other thoughts that morning, and you end up with the answer I gave Alex to his simple question. I knew the logical answer. But