A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the overwhelming sensations of guilt and shame that can arise even without a clear cause for those feelings.
Margaret Atwood's quote delves into the complex emotions of guilt, shame, and anxiety that can consume a person. It describes a physical reaction—a wave of blood rising to the head and feelings of terror—which is often experienced when one feels caught or judged. These emotions can surface from unrecognized fears of social judgment or personal failure, illustrating the depth of human vulnerability and the psychological burden we carry even in the absence of tangible wrongdoing.
In practice
In a psychology lecture discussing the effects of guilt on mental health.
If I am good enough and quiet enough, perhaps after all they will let me go; but it’s not easy being quiet and good, it’s like hanging on to the edge of a bridge when you’ve already fallen over; you don’t seem to be moving, just dangling there, and yet it is taking all your strength.
I would like to believe this is a story I’m telling. I need to believe it. I must believe it. Those who can believe that such stories are only stories have a better chance. If it’s a story I’m telling, then I have control over the ending. Then there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it. I can pick up where I left off.
What else can I do? Once you've gone this far you aren't fit for anything else. Something happens to your mind. You're overqualified, overspecialized, and everybody knows it. Nobody in any other game would be crazy enough to hire me. I wouldn't even make a good ditch-digger, I'd start tearing apart the sewer-system, trying to pick-axe and unearth all those chthonic symbols - pipes, valves, cloacal conduits... No, no. I'll have to be a slave in the paper-mines for all time.
We love each other, that’s true whatever it means, but we aren’t good at it; for some it’s a talent, for others only an addiction.
I've learned quite a lot, over the years, by avoiding what I was supposed to be learning.
Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened.
No sin is necessarily connected with sorrow of heart, for Jesus Christ our Lord once said, "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death." There was no sin in Him, and consequently none in His deep depression.
I know ours is a world made by men for men, their dictatorship is so ancient it even extends to language.
There is a point beyond which even justice becomes unjust.
If you really want to escape the things that harass you, what you're needing is not to be in a different place but to be a different person.
It might not be perfect, but the fundamental stance I adopted with regard to my home was to accept it, problems and all, because it was something I myself had chosen. If it had problems, these were almost certainly problems that had originated within me.
Beyond what we wish _x000D_ and what we fear may happen _x000D_ we have another life, _x000D_ as clear and free as a mountain stream.
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