The Guilt Trip

3 Jan

You think you’re having a good day. I mean other than getting pee in the face while changing a diaper, things seem all right. You’re re-reading The Four Agreements in an attempt to maintain that new Zen outlook and then it happens…The Guilt Trip. It can happen over the phone, in person, through a Hallmark card, via email, or Skype. It creeps into any form of communication, like a bad cucaracha in the closet.

I can’t say I’m a big believer in it. I’m sure I’ve used it myself. I’m a thirty-five year old woman. I’ve had to have done it. It’s part of the chick secret handshake. But I can’t say I remember when I did it.

It’s a powerful tool used by many. Helps you find a needed dishwasher or a laundry folder. But I’ve realized I’ve never really mastered this quality. I use a different approach.

“I need you to do the dishes…or else I’ll be pissed”

“Yes…something is bothering me. Sit down. I’m-a tell you.”

“I’ve stayed up taking care of the baby the last five nights in a row, if you don’t get up tonight I’ll throw you off a bridge.”

“Yeah, that outfit does make you look like you belong in a Sir Mix A Lot video.”

I should master The Guilt Trip, but don’t really enjoy when it happens to me. It’s like taking steroids…some people do it and they know it’s wrong, but they want to win.

I have to read Cosmo or something to brush up on the subject. I’ve constantly been guilted into all kinds of household duties that require Ajax or allowing for a golf weekend with “the guys”.

It’s a powerful motivator. Completely underrated. And just when I realized I was trying to be guilted by someone today I thought… I walked the dog twice, vacuumed the house, swept the stairs, washed the dishes, sterilized the bottles, did some laundry, cooked dinner, bathed two kids, and put them sleep. Should I have remote control power to watch re-runs of Sons of Anarchy or The Closer instead of the Golf Channel…hell to the yes!

Giddy up!

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