The Ultimate Crime

Author: N. Danilava

When I look at some people, I can see one specific feature. These people are never satisfied with what they are; it seems like it's never enough for them. Whatever level of success they managed to achieve, whatever dreams they pushed toward the reality, it's never enough. It almost looks like they are the most ruthless judges for themselves, punishing themselves for some gruesome crime they committed in the past.

And at first sight, it doesn't make any sense. Of course, they haven't committed any crimes, and there could be no crime to deserve such everlasting no-matter-what punishment. But if we look at the notion of the crime itself, what could it be? It should be something extremely disruptive, something awful, something they cannot forgive themselves for. And there's nothing like childhood trauma that can leave destruction of such a level, that can wreck a foundation for a future personality like that.

Someone did something to a child. And the child gets left behind with a question – how could I avoid such a thing, is there my fault? Of course, there is! In a weak attempt to regain control the child's consciousness will cling to the tiniest signs of proof that it could've been eluded. Basically, it has two choices: either life is unbearable once it allows something like that to happen to an innocent child, or there should be some explanation, some reason.

The life could not be that awful, it simply can't. It's impossible to live such a life and not go crazy. So it must've been some reason for it to happen, some kind of a fault. So it COULD HAVE been eluded. He could've been somewhere else. He could've said something else. He could've called somebody else. He could've – that's the conviction part. When the event is awful enough, the consciousness has no option of keeping the sense of autonomy and a shred of self-sufficiency but taking at least a part of the guilt. And the suspect becomes a convict.

What does that mean? At one particular moment in life, they weren't able to defend themselves. That's the ultimate crime no redemption can eliminate. They crushed a horrible act upon themselves – even if they were little, even if they were completely and totally innocent (which of course they were) – they are guilty by default. Guilty against their own life. Indeed, there's no such a demanding judge as yourself. Their self-esteem should be sacrificed to not go crazy under the constant pressure of fear.

Their self-esteem evaporates. THEY. ARE. BAD. They didn't do the thing they were supposed to do (that imaginary thing that could've saved them); therefore they put themselves in deadly danger. They are guilty, so that means they are bad. They are the worst people in the world. Well, maybe not the worst worst relatively, but in regard to the victim – they absolutely are. From now on, they would never be good enough. There would be always a necessity for judgment hanging above their heads – "Am I doing enough now? Am I? Am I good??" Every single minute of every single day. The easiest "no" and the hardest "maybe". It's almost like the person that did that to them at the same time took something away from them. Their ability to judge themselves adequately, their feeling of self-worth, their self-esteem. It's gone. That's the punishment part.

Most of them develop some substitute for the original self-esteem eventually. They become adults, they see life, they understand some part of it. They become stronger to accept the chaos of life. They understand it wasn't "really" their fault. Life's just… well, life. They understand it with their mind. But that court hearing would always be there, so as the conviction. They would always be guilty as charged because it stayed there and got solidified as the personality foundation instead of the stolen core.

I wish I could say it could be changed. I wish I could believe in a miracle of a psychotherapy – that someone can reconstruct the basic foundation of someone's personality. But life indifferently states the opposite. The wounded children simply exist. I can see them in the adults' eyes all the time.