Life. Without the guilt.

Plagued by guilt. That describes my friend Julie. She’s caring for her Alzheimer-riddled father. And always feels she’s not doing enough. That she has let her dad down. That she’s an imperfect daughter. So, who’s perfect? Her father was far from perfect in raising Julie. He made grievous mistakes. Affecting her negatively to this very day. In some respects, he was a bad father. A good father, too. And Julie knows all this. Of course, she owes something to her father. For bringing her into this world.  But there’s a limit. To everything.  Makes no sense in flagellating one’s self. To the degree that Julie does. She’s doing harm. To herself.  And to others around her.  By going on an almost endless guilt trip. Be reasonable, I tell Julie.  Treat yourself in a kind manner. With respect. Get adequate respite. Then do what you can for your father. Doesn’t matter if you happen to come up short. Thing is, you aren’t perfect either.  You are merely trying your best to be a decent human being. That’s all you can do. Now get on with life. Without the guilt. –Jim Broede