You Wear Guilt



You wear guilt like a noose around your neck. There it hangs, just waiting to be yanked by me and the tightening ligature around that slender neck will bring you back into line. I can then allow the noose to hang about your neck once again, ready to be used as soon as I decide that it is necessary. You do not even try to remove this noose, you would, of course feel guilty if you tried to do so and as a consequence it will always remain with you, on you and about you.

There is no slow squeezing when this noose is called into action. It is immediate, painful and chastising. It allows the sudden and instant exertion of control. What better way than to achieve this than relying on something that is intrinsic to another person. This noose burns, it constricts and it chokes and you know that it is not going to go anywhere. The only way to deal with it is to comply and then the noose will slacken but it will not grant you release.

You have carried this noose for a very long time. Once upon a time it was only a few strands thick, yet for all of that apparent fragility, it could not be cut nor broken, neither snapped or torn. As time went on, the strands multiplied so that the thickness increased until now it hangs about you, sturdy and effective. Nobody else wove those additional strands into it. You did. You brought it all on yourself because of the twisted delight you have to wear this noose. You regard it as an obligation. It is part of who you are and whilst the pain it causes you is something that you would prefer not to have to suffer, you know that when it makes you suffer, you gain comfort from its presence and effect.

You know that not everybody has such a noose. There are those who do not even have one. You wonder often what that must be like. Not to have the yoke about you which weighs you down, restricts you and governs you. What must such freedom feel like? Then there are those who have such a noose but they seem to be able to lift it off and leave it behind when it suits them. Others still find that the noose is weak and it snaps apart when it seeks to apply pressure against its wearer. No such release for you.

This is the noose that has you always compliant. Sometimes you fight against it, hoping that you might perhaps once, just once, be able to exert such strength that causes it to break, but it never happens. No matter what resistance you exhibit or how much you strain to tear it apart, you fail and have no choice other than to comply so that the pain recedes. It leaves its mark about you. There is no doubt about it. Even though the searing pain may have lessened, you can feel that tight grip still and you know that others can see where it has left its mark. Not all have this ability to recognise the mark of the noose, but a certain group do and they always want to exploit its presence. Oh there have been times when you have sought to hide this noose, mask its presence in the hope that you escape the attention of those who recognise it. Even if you manage to conceal the noose, the mark that it has left about your neck is like an indelible stain. You cannot remove it and it is the stamp that tells those who know these things that you carry such a noose.

You may not realise that it is you who has added those additional strands over the years, causing the noose to thicken and strengthen. Those strands are bound together, layer upon layer, wound about one another, so that they become more than the sum of their parts. The strands which are fashioned from your pervasive, deep-seated guilt, are added to because of those things which you say and do. Each time you think a certain way, which you cannot help but do because of who and what you are, another strand is added, then another, until soon the noose becomes thick and heavy. Each time you think the following

It is my fault; I did not listen.

I need to do more to help.

He cannot help it.

I need to ensure I understand.

If only I could be stronger.

If only I knew what to do.

I should be getting home; he will wonder where I am.

I should not be doing this.

I should not speak ill of him really; he is my husband.

I should not think these things, I do love him, I just feel so weak and this is when I have these thoughts.

I ought to have realised.

I must listen more.

I have to keep trying.

I owe it to him to help.

He isn’t as bad as people say.

If I just keep going it will become better.

I have to try because if I don’t, who will be there for him.

It is my duty.

I made my vows and I shall abide by them.

I must be doing something wrong to make him feel like this.

I just seem to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

These thoughts and words, plus many more, cause the noose to become stronger. Thus it tightens and I yank it, pulling you in my direction so that you remain under my control, bound by this guilt to serve, to support and to fuel. An ever present burden which you add to yourself each and every day. A method by which you are manipulated, cajoled and coerced to fulfil my needs.

This noose is not there to hang you. No, there is no desire to bring about your demise. You are more effective to us functioning. Your guilt will not bring about your end,  but instead it acts to maintain your imprisonment.

You make the noose grow.

I make the noose control you.

Can it be escaped? We think not. It is for life. Even though it may not tighten or constrict for some time, even years, it is always there and with the mark so prominent, another may come and utilise the control that the noose affords even though we may not be able to.

We will not lift it. It matters too greatly to us.

We will not lift it because it is your burden, perpetuated by you.

But it can be lifted. It is not simple or straightforward and we ensure we do not allow you the opportunity to address this chance to relieve yourself of this noose of guilt. It can be done. It is quite the task to achieve but for you, that journey begins by answering one question.

Who put it there in the first place?

12 thoughts on “You Wear Guilt

  1. ballerina9 says:

    HG, You Wear Guilt article was only posted twice. Pity! Great eye opener for most of us with a Narc parent and how we’re predestined to end up within your claws and stay there. Guilt trip never ends.
    I hope you’ll dust it off and re-post it.

  2. “He cannot help it.
    I have to try because if I don’t, who will be there for him.”

    Guilty as charged.

  3. bananasareberries1 says:

    I feel the guilt if I screw up. I know when I really do and I can tell a difference when somebody is trying to make it look like something is my fault, when is not. I know what I know. Crazy making does not work on me. I do not try to fix broken people. I try to help as this is my instinct. But I do not attempt to go beyond certain point of help. I also do not pity people who hurt others. I kick them out. I am selfish when I have to. This is a healthy narcissism. I protect myself for further hurt. You do it once and I am telling bye bye to you my dear offender.

  4. Mona says:

    Hello Clarece,
    I was always compassionate, because she told me, I should be an angel. If my mother would admit that she makes any mistake, it would be a wonder. My father said to me one: “You cannot talk to your mother in a reasonable manner. She is not able to do that.” She never apologized in her life. A typical manner of narcissistic people. I never realized that until my father died. Before his death I was the golden child somehow and at the same time the scapegoat. After his death I changed to her victim. The big victim: my father, was dead. So she looked for a new one to bother. She is not a malignant narcissist, she is a victim narcissist. She prepared me for my malignant one. I you look on the “Irrestible Pull” you will read, that I punished him. I told my mother and she said “How could you do that?This poor man. How could you be so evil ?” She blamed me for my defense. It was my bad character. She defended him, knowing what he has done to me. She never showed empathy to me. She always asks for help, if I need help, she is far away. She will not give me a cup of coffee, when I have the influenza. I could not realize that because her behaviour seemed to be so unpredictable. Sometimes she seemed to help me, sometimes not. A short time ago I realized, when she did something good for me. It was only then, when people were next to us. She was in fear of her reputation, her image to others. Only then she stood next to me. She wanted to present the public, that she is the best mother of the world.
    I observed her today and we spoke about a cousin, who is abused by all his family as a craftsmen. He has nearly no time for himself. What did she say? ” Oh, he likes that. Be sure. He has nothing else to do. He should be happy, that someone needs him.” That sounds so innocent, but it is not. And she said” He should come to visit us, We have so much to do for him. He will be happy then.” Only egoistical stuff. .

    1. MLA - Clarece says:

      Seems we grew up being very compliant which begins molding us for these kinds of relationships in adult life.

      1. Mona and MLAC,
        My mother is a victim narc. In the beginning of my narcdom stage I would fight with her constantly. Fuelfest for both. Then as i swung too far to super empath I gave to my own demise. Now that I am closer to normal I am in no contact. She will still email me the most hateful emails. This is of course is to let me know I am a bad mother, daughter, sister or to try to manipulate me into some scheme of hers. It’s hard to have a parent or parents that teach and practice conditional love. It really did make me be compliant for years. It made me tangle with narc men to get back at them. Once I found some Balance though it is best not to be around triggers even if it is your parent. Some of them are negative to the core. She cannot find one positive trait in anyone, unless she is in a face to face with them. As soon as she’s not, she is running them into the ground. Oh and they are all jealous of her and they cannot top her on anything, she hales from royalty you know..true but you better not forget it. She even wears a shirt that says royalty on it. When I cut her off the first time I came to visit with a shirt that said in scrolly sparkles, back by popular demand. She told me to give her that shirt as it was not my color. Yeah right. Lol.

  5. MLA - Clarece says:

    I think being brought up strict Catholic tends to make one feel guilty often too. You’re always atoning for something. I also think the lines between feeling “guilty” and thinking you are being compassionate can blur. Some of those examples above, I have thought, but I felt they came from thinking of the other person and being selfless.

  6. Bruised says:

    I have… no… You have…and made me believe I have?

    but You promised to be different. ..
    that You will make me believe again because there is no secret anymore
    that we could be together …

  7. Mona says:

    Yes, that is true. There is a noose around my neck Who was it, who put the noose first there?
    I remember my mother telling me, that she really loves children, but I “arrived” at the wrong time.
    I remember that she told me, my birth was so awful she nearly died and she has had so much pain.
    I remember her saying, she could not enjoy her life, because I was there.
    I remember her saying, that my grades at school were not good enough. I make her unhappy!
    Guilty from birth to death. Always guilty.
    If it has been so awful for her, she should have had an abort.
    She was my first mirror and she showed me what I have to be. I am guilty because of my existence.
    After a few years I accepted that judgement and developed it further. It was easier to accept than to rebel against it. There was no one else to help me or to support me.
    Now I am the one who thickens that noose. I am used to it.

    The same happened to you , H.G. You decided to take the other (male in the manner of aggressive) way.
    Not guilty, Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty….You are used to it.

  8. Twilight Dreams says:

    And this is the main reason why he will never be in my life again, no way in hell will I ever let him know what happened, I carry enough with out any outside help.

    Just the thought makes my heart pound, tears and the feeling of not being able to breathe.

    Stay silent is what I repeat every time he calls and I hear his voice, hanging up is my choice in the moment.

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