Regret

-
I am a person who is full of regret.

That's a hard pill to swallow when you're part of a generation that constantly tells you to "seize the day" and "live the life you want to live" otherwise, you're not doing it right. It's not that easy though, right? Unless you've got the kind of life where good things of all kinds come easily, chances are, you've had to make some tough and unsavory choices in your life and they haven't always worked out in your favor.

I haven't soured on life to the point that I can totally discount all of the truly great things that have unfolded for me. All things considered, my life could be a hell of a lot worse, and I'm beyond grateful to be grounded in a general sense of security and surrounded by people I both like and genuinely love. That doesn't stop the thoughts of regret from creeping in on those nights when I've found myself slipping in and out of sleep, unable to fully rest because my brain keeps asking these intensely probing questions, none of which I want to or even am able to answer honestly or at all.

There are the questions about the past:

"Why did you do that?
What were you thinking?
Why didn't you stay?
Why didn't you hug her more?
Why didn't you say 'I love you' more?
How could you have said those things to her?
Why didn't you make her leave?
How could you have been so selfish?"

Then, there are the questions about the future:

"Will you ever feel whole again?
Can you actually be a good mother now that you no longer have one?
Should you even have more children since she's not here to see them or help you?
Should you ever get married since she won't be here to see it?
Are all the mothers in your lineage cursed?
Will you die early too?"

Regret from the past, regret for shit that hasn't even transpired yet...it can all be too much to bear sometimes. Especially in times like these. Times when I'm alone, and I think about something as simple as her voice, or find myself using her phrases, or get a whiff of myself while changing into my night clothes and I smell like her because she's in me. She's in me. She's apart of me in ways that I didn't even know she could be and we are eternally intertwined, for better or for worse, but it's always for better when I think of her.

I am my mother's daughter.

I am full of regret.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Every Minute of Every Day

-
Today, for the third time, I considered voluntarily checking myself into a mental institution. That feels like a scary thing to admit, but it's my truth, and I'm trying to stand up in it as best I can without fear of being seen as weak or come across as attention seeking. I'm not suicidal. I have no plans or desires to hurt myself or anyone else. It's actually the exact opposite. I am absolutely terrified of dying or losing someone close to me, and it's making me feel like I'm losing my mind. I think I've reached the stage of grieving where you just want to curl up into a ball in the center of your bed, cover your head, and never, ever come out because the world is scary, and if you could just keep yourself and everyone you love wrapped up in your alternative down duvet forever, you'd never have to face death again. At least not until you pass away peacefully in your sleep, the way nearly everyone hopes to go, but it feels like most rarely do. Th...
Read more

It's Our Anniversary

-
I forgot that today was the second anniversary of my mom's death until 7:26pm this evening. At least I think it's the second anniversary, since time hasn't moved in a linear fashion since that July 2nd. The day that she died, I put my head on her chest and heard the faint beat of her heart for the last time. The few of us who had gathered in her hospice room to say our final goodbyes said a prayer, and then waited patiently for the staff to clean her body and get it ready to be taken to the mortuary. Did you know that you have to have all of those little details like which mortuary will pick up the body, what you want them to do with the body, and what kind of services you want to hold all figured out by the time your loved one takes their final breath? The hospice center was great while we were there and she was still alive, but as soon as the life is gone from their body, they pretty much want you gone from their building and are very little help as far as guiding your n...
Read more

A Quick Word About Healing + Shaming

-
I just started this shit last night.  I'm not totally set on the specifics of what I will share here versus what I share on my other platforms,  how often I'll post, or what my end game is, but what I do know is that writing is a form of healing for me and I enjoy sharing my writing with others (even when the subject matter is painful).  Writing is therapeutic for me. It helps me work through the separate but cluttered piles of feelings that are littered throughout my mental space, and I typically feel a sense of relief after putting it all into words. Some people though? Some people fucking hate writing. They would sooner walk through fire than pick up a pen or touch a keyboard, because it doesn't bring them peace or solace, and that's okay.  As cliché as it sounds (remind me at some point to talk about how important it is to rid ourselves of that feeling of being "too cliché" because there actually are still people out there who genuinely have nev...
Read more