On Guilt, Creative Will, and the Responsibility of Becoming Ourselves

Guilt has been on my mind for quite some time. For years, I couldn't quite pinpoint what that feeling was. Not exactly anger, not sadness, not regret, but something that felt like a strange mixture of all three, not to forget fear.

I feel guilty when I don't paint. I feel guilty when I don't spend enough time with my parents. I feel guilty when I don't answer the phone. And then when I forget to call back. And sometimes, even when I finally sit down to paint, I feel guilty about all the other things I could or should be doing instead. It seems there's always something to feel guilty about.

Until this summer, when I discovered Otto Rank.

What initially attracted me to his work was his book Art and Artist, particularly his idea that through creating art, we attempt to immortalize ourselves. That what we create might continue to exist long after we're gone and that gives us - artists a sense of comfort, for we are all quite anxious people :)

Naturally, this raised a whole new set of questions for me. But that's another story.

While waiting for the book to arrive, I ordered two others. One of them was Truth and Reality. I have to admit, the language was far too complex for my level of English, he is a bit verbose, but with a little help from AI, and by reading some sentences five times over, I think I eventually managed to grasp at least the essence of it. And one idea in particular stayed with me:

the relationship between creative will, guilt, and the responsibility of becoming ourselves.

The guilt of choosing

Rank explores the conflict between our individual will and our need to belong.

We want to make our own choices, follow our desires, and shape our lives. But we also want to be loved, accepted, and connected to others. And sometimes these needs contradict each other. Every choice we make means giving up another possibility. Choosing to spend the afternoon painting might mean not visiting my parents. Answering the phone might mean interrupting the work I finally managed to immerse myself in. There isn't always a perfect choice that satisfies everyone, including ourselves.

What I found particularly interesting in Rank's thinking is that guilt doesn't necessarily mean we've done something wrong. It can also arise from asserting our own will, separating ourselves from expectations, and accepting responsibility for our choices.

And perhaps that's the difficult part.

To exercise our creative will means accepting that we cannot live every possible life, fulfill every expectation, or avoid disappointing everyone.

We have to choose. And then we have to take responsibility for those choices.

Responsibility is not the same as guilt

Something else I've been thinking about is the difference between taking responsibility for my choices and taking responsibility for how other people feel about them.

If I choose to spend an afternoon painting instead of answering the phone, someone might feel disappointed.

I can acknowledge that disappointment, but does it automatically mean I've done something wrong? And if I constantly make choices to avoid disappointing others, what happens to the things I want to create?

Of course, guilt sometimes serves a purpose. It can tell us when we've hurt someone, neglected a genuine obligation, or acted against our values. But perhaps not every uncomfortable feeling deserves to be treated as evidence of wrongdoing. Sometimes guilt points toward something we need to repair. Other times, it may reflect an expectation we've never consciously agreed to fulfill.

Taking responsibility for our lives doesn't mean taking responsibility for everyone's emotional response to the way we live them.

And there's another uncomfortable truth - even when we choose to satisfy someone else's expectations, we're still making a choice. We might avoid disappointing them, but end up disappointing ourselves.

We are all creating something

We tend to associate creativity with artists, writers, and musicians. But what if creativity is also the act of shaping our own lives?

Every time we question an old belief, establish a boundary, change direction, or make a decision that reflects our own values, aren't we creating something?

Not necessarily a work of art, but a way of living.

This is my own interpretation of Rank's creative will, and it's the part of his philosophy that resonates with me most.

As an artist, I know that creating something often means letting go of my original expectations. The work changes, unexpected possibilities appear, and I have to decide whether to follow them. Life doesn't seem so different. We begin with certain ideas about who we are and what we're supposed to do. Then circumstances change. We change. Sometimes the things that once felt essential no longer belong in our lives. And we have to decide what to keep, what to let go of, and what to create next.

Perhaps our most continuous creative project is our own life.

How do we put this into practice?

I don't think understanding an idea is enough. I'm interested in how it might actually change the way we live. So here are a few things I think it's worth thinking about more consciously.

1. Ask: Have I actually done something wrong?

The next time you feel guilty, try to identify what triggered the feeling. Did you break a promise? Hurt someone? Neglect something you genuinely believe is your responsibility? Or did you simply make a choice that someone else might not like?

These are very different situations. If you've done something wrong, perhaps an apology or a change in behavior is needed. But if you've simply disappointed an expectation, the answer might not be to change your decision.

Not every feeling of guilt requires an apology.

2. Recognise that every yes is also a no

We have limited time and energy. Saying yes to one thing inevitably means saying no to something else.

Before agreeing to another commitment, ask yourself:

What am I saying no to if I say yes to this?

Sometimes the answer is rest. Sometimes it's time with people we love. Sometimes it's the creative work we've been postponing for months. Making that trade-off visible might help us choose more consciously.

3. Separate your values from other people's expectations

Try writing down three things that genuinely matter to you. Not what you think should matter. Not what would make you appear responsible, successful, or generous. What actually matters? Then look at how you've spent your time over the past week. Do your choices reflect those values? If not, perhaps the question isn't how to become more productive, but how to bring your everyday decisions closer to the life you want to live.

4. Practise disappointing people kindly

This one is particularly difficult. We often imagine that setting a boundary requires an elaborate explanation or justification. But sometimes a simple, respectful response is enough. I can't do that today. I need some uninterrupted time. I'd love to see you, but let's arrange another day. We can be considerate without always being available.

And we can acknowledge someone else's disappointment without automatically making it our responsibility to remove it.

5. Accept that there is no perfect choice

We often spend so much time trying to make the right decision that we forget most choices involve uncertainty. There may be no option that satisfies everyone, avoids every regret, and guarantees a good outcome. Sometimes we have to choose based on what we know, accept the consequences, and adjust along the way. Just like creating a painting. You make a mark. You respond to it. You make another. And gradually, something begins to take shape.

The unfinished work of becoming ourselves

I'm still trying to understand Rank, and I'm certainly not claiming to have figured out the complicated relationship between guilt, freedom, and responsibility. But his work has given me a different way of looking at a feeling I've carried for a long time.

Perhaps guilt isn't always something we need to eliminate, I don't think this is even possible. Sometimes it's something we need to examine. What is it trying to tell us? Have we acted against our values, or are we simply uncomfortable with the consequences of making our own choices?

And becoming ourselves is not about reaching a final, perfect version of who we are. It's about continuing to choose, question, change, and take responsibility for the life we're creating.

One question keeps returning to me:

What if the guilt we sometimes feel when choosing our own path isn't necessarily a sign that we're doing something wrong, but part of the uncomfortable process of becoming ourselves?

I don't have a definitive answer. But I like the possibility that creativity isn't something reserved for artists. I believe we're all artists of a kind, working with the material of our own lives. And perhaps the most important thing we create isn't something we leave behind, but the life we actually live.