Guilt replaces love. When all you want is to not feel guilty, you rejoice when someone does something nice for you, not because you feel loved, but because you don't feel blamed. When someone, for whom you haven't done anything, does something nice to you, you feel like you have to do something quickly to pay them back. When someone doesn't do anything for you, you feel a relief (not at all hurt by their indifference), because that means you don't owe them anything and, therefore, don't have to feel guilty for not being able to pay them back. It gets even better when someone does something bad to you; then you are not only guilt-free, but way above that person - it's them that owe you atonement. But when it happens that you do something wrong or don't do something right (and it does happen, as perfect as you'd like to think you are), when you clearly have no escape from your guilt and no justification to calm you down, you resort to blaming someone else. You blame the person for deserving the treatment you gave them or reassuring yourself that since everyone else was doing it, you must have been right. And when you can't love someone (because clearly you have left no room for love), you blame the other person for not being lovable or not doing their part to win your heart. You see, there's such a great comfort in blaming others - the comfort of not being blamed yourself. But that comfort seems to be very short-lived, because soon enough, of course, you start to feel guilty for being judgmental of others, and the cycle goes on and on and on.
As you can see, looking at the world through the eyes of guilt leaves you deprived of love, because you are able to neither give nor accept love. Even if you manage to justify yourself, all you obtain is the status of a faultless miserable person. And when you don't, you become a self-beating miserable person. The only way to live a misery-less life and have a heart that knows how to accept love (without trying to deserve or earn it), is to
stop doing guilt. Stop looking for someone to blame by understanding that there doesn't have to be a person to blame in the first place. Life isn't about who is right and who is wrong, who should be punished and who should be excused. Life is about Love, and Love doesn't blame, but seeks and understands.
To illustrate my point, I will describe to you a scene from the movie
Testament of Youth. It takes place on the shores of the ocean, when Roland has just come back on home-leave from fighting at the front. As soon as Vera, his sweetheart, finds out where he is, she runs to him, only to receive a cold and indifferent attitude from him. He doesn't even greet her, but says, almost to himself, that he has to go back in three days. Before Vera can say something, their friends catch up with her to see Roland, who jumps up with excitement, embracing each of them with enthusiasm and joy. Roland, still ignoring Vera, is talking and laughing with the others, who, after a while, notice the tension growing between the couple and leave them alone. After a moment, however, Roland gets up and starts walking towards the others, while Vera runs after him. It is evident that Roland is trying to escape her and at some point pushes her stronger than he intended, causing her to fall. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry!" he begs as he is shaken with the realization of what he has done. For a moment, I expected and deeply hoped that Vera would do what I would have done in her case - get up, look at him with resentment, walk away, and never speak to him again, leaving him to suffer in his guilt. But what she does shocked me and revolutionized all my ideas about love and guilt. She gets up and grabs him, and, placing his arms around herself, reminds him of what is real. "This part of you," she begs him, "Don't let war destroy it!" She voices the cry for help that Roland could not express. "It might be gone already," Roland whispers. "No! It's not! I promise you!" Vera replies. Desperately, Roland hugs her and buries his face in her shoulder, while Vera tightly holds him. In the next scene, they are sitting side by side, and Roland explains to Vera how home-leave makes people soft - that after being home with their loved ones, they cannot survive the war once they return. But Vera's unconditional love gives him the courage to let down his guard and let her into his heart.
You see, there was no judgement towards him, no guilt trip: only understanding. She didn't blame him because she wasn't looking for someone to blame. She
loved him and was not competing with him to find out who was more guilty. If Roland had pushed me, the reaction of my insecure nature would have been to make him feel guilty and walk away, quite satisfied with myself for being the "good" one in the relationship and having done my part, being able to rightfully blame him for the doom of our relationship. You see, I would not have felt loss for the relationship, because for me it would never have been about love, but about becoming even - paying back my debts for all the good things he had done for me. But in that moment when I clearly would have had the upper hand, I could have walked away with a clear conscience. But you see, Vera pursued him relentlessly and urged him to talk to her, not because she was making sure that later on she would be able to blame
him for the end of their relationship (proudly remembering that she did
try to fix things), but simply because she loved him and was not going to let him go. And because of that, they created a love story that will never die, at least in my heart.
You see, there was no judgement towards him, no guilt trip: only understanding. She didn't blame him because she wasn't looking for someone to blame. She loved him and was not competing with him to find out who was more guilty. If Roland had pushed me, the reaction of my insecure nature would have been to make him feel guilty and walk away, quite satisfied with myself for being the "good" one in the relationship and having done my part, being able to rightfully blame him for the doom of our relationship. You see, I would not have felt loss for the relationship, because for me it would never have been about love, but about becoming even - paying back my debts for all the good things he had done for me. But in that moment when I clearly would have had the upper hand, I could have walked away with a clear conscience. But you see, Vera pursued him relentlessly and urged him to talk to her, not because she was making sure that later on she would be able to blame him for the end of their relationship (proudly remembering that she did try to fix things), but simply because she loved him and was not going to let him go. And because of that, they created a love story that will never die, at least in my heart.