Oops, What Did I Just Do? 🙈

It turns out that even the most harmless, revitalising weekend can turn into some adventure… particularly when, on a Sunday night, after spending the afternoon on a very remote beach, you lock the car keys in the boot (that’s the trunk, in America).

Now, if you feel like complaining about the clever engineers who invented car keys that can open the boot without opening the doors, call me. I’ll gladly lend you an ear.

To cut a long story short, I absentmindedly locked the boot with the car keys inside. It was late evening and we were in the middle of nowhere, a good hour walk from the closest town, on a countryside road with no streetlamps. Two and a half hours later, after an inconclusive attempt from a local garage guy and a few equally inconclusive calls with the Automobile Association breakdown centre who, at best, could maybe send us a tow truck around 2:30am, we decided to break one of the rear passenger windows.

We first tried with a stone, which caught the attention of the few cars that were passing by. Funnily enough, quite a few cars stopped to help us (I guess our faces spoke more about distress than crime). A big guy tried to break the glass with a hammer. Still no success, not even a chip. Finally, an even bigger guy joined us with a shovel. At the second attempt, with considerable strength, he smashed the window.

By that point, it was dark. We drove to the nearest village. We had a pizza from a 24hr kebab/pizza place and then drove to our Airbnb farm where we crashed in bed. The next morning, I spent several hours trying to find an affordable glass repair service, speaking with the insurance, the car rental, etc. etc. We finally drove back to London with tape all over the missing window. They’ll replace the glass the day after.

All is well that ends well.

The whole adventure gave me a good opportunity to observe myself throughout.

The moment I realised I had locked the car keys inside, I felt beyond stupid. I was angry at myself, upset for having spoilt the last evening (and the next day) of our short yet badly needed break, worried for Fran who was quite dehydrated, distressed for the money the whole adventure would cost, etc. etc. In one word, I felt guilty. The images of me dropping the keys in the boot and closing it were replaying relentlessly in my head. And so were the images of all the things we could have done instead of spending hours by the car or on the phone. The monologue in my head was blaming me loudly and incessantly. My mood was sad and angry (mostly at myself).

*****

I’m sure many can relate to this story. That’s what guilt feels like.

Whether it is for an accidental distraction or for taking a decision that we later judge to be bad, we get angry at ourselves. We keep replaying the scene of what we would have done instead, had we been more clever. We create an amazing fantasy of what the future would look like, had we known better. And we feel low, sad, irritable and unworthy of happiness.

That’s guilt.

What a useless coping mechanism! Basically, we’ve done something “wrong” (in hindsight) and we’ve decided we’re going to redeem ourselves by punishing ourselves. The guiltier I feel (or the longer I feel guilty for), the more I’ll offset my wrongdoing.

Now, there’s a more beneficial response to a wrongdoing. It’s called responsibility.

Some use the words responsibility and guilt interchangeably: I was responsible for locking the keys inside the car, aka I was guilty of locking the keys inside the car. But at Wise Humanity, we recommend using the word responsibility in its original meaning:

our ability to respond.

The keys are locked inside the car, so what is my ability to respond?

Do I need to feel sad and irritable while I’m on the phone with the Automobile Association, or can I still fully enjoy the enchanting sunset over the sea and the friendliness of all the people who stop to help us? Do I need to feel angry and grumpy at 11pm on our last (spoilt) night or can I still fully enjoy the kebab/pizza I’m eating on a bench in the nearby seaside village with Fran? Do I need to feel upset and absent while searching for a glass repair solution, or can I still fully enjoy the beauty of the farm where we’re staying and the kindness of the farmer who’s already taped up all the space of the missing window without telling us anything?

Like I said, this whole adventure gave me a good opportunity to observe myself throughout.

Younger Davide would have exploded with guilt-fuelled anger towards himself and everyone around, no exception. Guilty Davide wouldn’t have even noticed that everyone around us was super helpful, the sunset was magical, the seaside at night was so peaceful and the farm bucolic.

I still have so much growing to do. I could still hear the judgemental voice in my head, I could still see the screening of the beautiful holiday I had spoilt irreparably. But without the knowledge that responsibility can replace guilt, I wouldn’t have enjoyed anything.

Do I need to punish myself with guilt (and indirectly punish all those around me) to take the actions necessary to solve a problem? To learn that I’ll be more careful with keys in the future? To remind myself that I need to do further work on my mindfulness? Nope. I just need to make myself responsible.

Guilt is about not accepting the past (“if I could turn back time…”) and/or making ourselves feel miserable.

Responsibility is about empowering ourselves and taking action in the present.

Nothing useful comes out of guilt. Try dropping it altogether and embrace responsibility.

Subscribe to our newsletter and blog here.