On regret
It’s like shame & regret took up a ton of space inside me-- I didn’t even realize-- and now that the real estate is open, compassion has had room to grow.
I’m going to be honest here. Actually, I don’t even know why I say that at this point, because that’s just what this is, always.
I’m always here, feeling a little bit naked in my honesty. But it does something good for me.
Okay, so, the thing I said I was going to say before I got lost there: I don’t understand people who don’t have regrets…
Not that I actively live every day under the weight of regret.
Though I used to.
Oh man, I used to. Regret was a bitter taste lingering on the tongue of my memory.
Regret (for YEARS) was like a terrible cold I couldn’t kick. Making every day a little miserable, a little sleepy, wishing I could just be 100%.
You know when you’re throat hurts and you think to yourself, man I wish I had been more grateful for swallowing when my throat didn’t hurt?
That was me, with my regret. Man, I wish I had been more grateful for my life before I burdened myself with bad decisions.
Regret liked most to get in bed with me at night. I’d try to fall asleep and instead I’d stare at the back of my eyelids replaying the humiliating things I’ve done, the terrible decisions I made, the the words I wanted to take back, the relationships I played a part in losing.
Regret fluffed a pillow, got cozy under my comforter, touching it’s freezing feet against my legs—a nighttime companion I didn’t welcome, didn’t enjoy, and didn’t know how to get to leave.
For as long as I can remember, shame was my tormentor. I guess it makes sense that regret joined our little posse in my adulthood.
I felt shame for dumb, little things in childhood. And as I got older and my poor decisions were less little and stupid, and more big and impactful on me and people around me, that shame grew and invited regret in with it.
If you’ve every been close with shame and regret, you’ll know the feeling. It’s like your soul is carrying a hundred pounds of cringe and despair, but in the meantime, you’re smiling and trying to pretend you aren’t wrecked by your own self in your inner life and memories.
I don’t live with shame or regret as companions these days though, so my bed is a lot less crowded. I sleep wonderfully—aside from being woken up every 2.5 hours by Auden, that is. (No 11 month old should be allowed to wake up like a newborn. Someone set this kid straight.)
But it’s not regret making me sleepless. I’m thrilled about that. Regret doesn’t have anything to keep me up with anymore.
My nights are no longer battlegrounds for self-recrimination.
I don’t long to turn back time.
There are a few reasons I can think of for this major shift into grace and freedom.
Like…
I no longer make decisions I hate. I know that was a huge step for me towards living freely. A lot of those decisions, for me, involved alcohol.
I don’t carry secrets or feel like the real me is bound up inside and unseen. I am unimpressive, tend towards addiction, and am no longer a pretender, and I am okay with being known, even the worst parts of me. You can’t shame someone who is already living in the light.
And I examined the regrets that haunted me. But, I didn’t just do this replaying them enough times in my head, at night. That got me nowhere, it was endless. Death by a thousand cuts.
Instead, I took the things that had a punch still in them, the decisions and memories with an emotional charge, I put them on paper and considered them closely.
I put them on paper and let myself feel them, all the way, again, in the light of day. The weight, the hurt, the shame; I put it on paper and stared at it. Cried at it. Cringed at it. Wanted to die a little bit at it.
Having both examined closely, and having written them down, I finally had the subconscious freedom I didn’t know I needed, to finally stop being abused by my own shame and regret. They no longer had anything on me.
And, along with sleeping better, one of the best parts since becoming free has been the space for my compassion to grow.
It’s like shame & regret took up a ton of space inside me, I didn’t even realize, and now that the real estate is open, compassion has had room to grow.
No longer privately suffering, I am able to consider that people around me may be concealing their own burdens like I used to—burdens that eat away at their peace of mind.
This has softened my perception of and attitude towards the people in my life: the ones I like and the ones I dislike.
So yeah, some people say they have no regrets, but I think it’s ok to say we did, we definitely freaking did things worth regretting… but we dealt with those memories head on, and on the other side of it all, we are able more easily access grace, show compassion, and love more richly.
If you’re like me and have made decisions worth regretting, there is so much hope. You can have made terrible decisions and come out the other side better anyway.