When I was sick, there was no punishment that was sufficient for me, or so I felt. Although not quite seriously to actually make me absent myself from my family. In any case, people said that would punish my family more than me, so that was not the right target. It’s really weird when people say you shouldn’t punish yourself because that punishes those you love more. Can that be true?
In any case, I don’t think about punishment any more. That implies there is some objective judgment of my behavior, and I know when I think about that, I take myself down the road to hell. I don’t like hell any more, and when I think about belonging there… well, I try to let that thought go. It doesn’t help me.
It’s a powerful thought, though, and even just thinking it now makes me sad and makes me long for it in some strange way. Like I could die and I would never know the impact of my life. It’s a stupid disturbing thought. I wish I knew why it calls me. I know I won’t give in, but wow! Questions like this just bring it back so fast, it takes me completely by surprise.