I’m in Paris, France and Barcelona, Spain for the next week, capitalizing on the business trip (aka enjoying the free hotel) my husband has been sent on. I’ve brought my computer, and before I left, I told myself I would work… because I feel guilty. Guilty for spending money I don’t have, guilty for the time away from my clients and business and guilty for taking a trip I feel I don’t deserve.
Despite the self-inflicted guilt, I could not help but seize the opportunity for adventure.
Tonight though, the guilt is heavy, clouding my thoughts and inhibiting my enjoyment. I’m staring at the screen right now, in our rented apartment in Paris, wondering why I have nothing intelligent to say about guilt. I feel like an ass writing of my guilty thoughts while experiencing a city many only dream of visiting. Whoops, isn’t that more self-inflicted guilt? I am certainly on fire tonight.
To add fuel to the fire, this article really has no point. I’m bringing nothing new to the subject. The best point I’ve got is: despite the guilt I feel about being here, it’s a lot better than the regret I’d feel at missing this opportunity. I prefer “I shouldn’t do it” to “I could have done it”. And I likely always will. For I am, without a doubt, a glutton for experience.
photo credit: graphistolage
