Guilt is quite likely something I’ve written about in the past, but I’m going to go ahead and forgive myself for that.  Feelings and expressions put on paper once does not prevent them from reappearing later.

Guilt is something I carry it everywhere, it’s always on my mind and I can’t seem to shake it.  Even as I write this post I find myself immersed in a level of guilt for things I know I cannot control yet somehow feel responsible for.  It’s a frustrating thing, to be in possession of a brain that can do so much good for us yet can also give us so much unwarranted pain and discomfort.  Technique and practice can provide some level of control over our mind, but even the most seasoned professionals can have a bad game and let in a few things get past the defence.  I’ve had it all my life; becoming a parent certainly didn’t make it any easier, and even in my professional life it is far from avoided.  I think a level of guilt is natural, but I also know that I carry with me, at all times, an unhealthy amount of it.

Aw proud as I am for my accomplishments, I find myself in a difficult position of holding a professional title that requires me to make decisions and carve out paths that are in the best interest of the company I work for, yet every decision I make has an impact on multiple teams and individuals.  As someone who is deeply empathetic with a high emotional intelligence, this is an intersection of feelings that are deeply uncomfortable for me.  I love what I do: I problem solve all day.  I get to dissect situations down to their parts and figure out how they work, then put them back together in a way that can be generally more beneficial.  It’s why I love escape rooms so much; I get to flex my creative side to solve a logical problem.  That said – I hate how it sometimes comes to be that the right answer will impact the established routines of another person.   I love change – I thrive in it, yet I naturally do not enjoy when it is imposed upon me.  I like to be a part of the conversation that drives change, not be on the receiving end of someone else’s decision who seemingly didn’t care about my feelings.  Not a single sandwich artist approached or consulted me when Subway got rid of their stamps.  I get why they did it, but it still would have been nice if they asked my opinion on the matter.  Sadly, not only is it an uncomfortable feeling for me, but that’s essentially my job.  I’m the guy who gets rid of Subway stamps.

For as much as I like to keep the peace and maintain a balance, not everyone can be happy in any given situation, I am not so unrealistic to naively think differently, no matter how much I want that. This is true at work as it is in every other aspect of life.  My youngest daughter actually asked me this evening, of all evenings: “Daddy, what is your job?”  and as I attempted to explain to her, and she probed with more questions, I heard myself giving work examples based in real life, only to come to respect that decision making doesn’t always make you the most popular person in the room at the moment, but if you are making informed decisions with the bigger picture in mind, it can provide you with confidence and pride that you are making the right choice.  As I used real-life examples in response to my daughter’s inquiry, I was reminded of the importance of making choices, but equal to that is the understanding that things should be respectfully explained when the desired outcome of an individual cannot come to fruition.  As people in a society, there is a base-level of respect we can provide one another when it comes to making decisions that really shouldn’t feel like an imposition (unless we know inherently that we are making a decision we don’t agree with or conflicts with our internal moral compass).  That thing we can offer is simple: context.

Example:

My daughter wants me to build an addition onto her room that includes a magical castle with a stable for unicorns and an ensuite for the fairies that look over these majestic creatures.

Now, I could ignore this request entirely, but as I was explaining the nuance of my role to the impressionable young mind sitting in front of me, I also explained the importance and right she has to be heard.  I don’t need to agree with her idea for me determine whether or not it is the best thing for her and our family.  These are things she’ll eventually be able to determine for herself later in life, but since us, as parents, are kind of responsible for keeping them alive and teaching as we go, it falls on me to make a choice here.

My decision, though quick, was based on fact and I owed it to her to explain that, rather than crumpling up her suggestion box submission and tossing it in the garbage without care.

Not only are unicorns hard to domesticate, but the fairy union has very strict guidelines, and even if it didn’t, our cost analysis would suggest that adding on an additional room would mean other projects, such as travelling to Disney, would need to be put on hold.

I deliver the facts and then we have a mutual understanding of how we got there and why the decision was ultimately best for the whole family, even though on one of us was disappointed.

If only our every day decision and my work could be all ‘magic castles and unicorns’.

With decision comes consequence, and while the result may be indirect, for me there is always an emotional impact.  I feel it when I disrupt a process at work to save time, when I can’t stay to play a game of pool with my Dad because of prior commitments, when I can’t be in 7 places at once for 10 different people, when my schedule is full to the point that I can’t take another meeting without giving up my linch, when I accidentally cooked the rack of lamb to 140 vs 135, when I can’t buy the unicorn,  and when I take time for myself in the evening to write a blog about guilt.  This is not a sob story; we all live this truth, but no matter how legitimate my reasons are, I feel what I perceive as the emotion on the other side of the equation more than I do the conviction of my own reality.

The guilt I carry is heavy and it is constant.  I can’t resolve this easily, but rather than apologizing to the world at large as I normally would, I am working instead on simply saying:

Thank you for understanding.

PS Please bring back the stamps…and cut your bread the old way.