Regret is a brooding beast — get rid of it.
Did you ever hear the old saying, if you tell yourself something long enough, you will believe it is true? I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist. In 1996, I took a fistful of Ultram and died. My daughter found me unconscious on the kitchen floor and our lives would never be the same. I and my four children went through several separations, apartments, neighborhoods, and lastly a nasty opiate addiction that only took three years to destroy our lives. I told myself for decades that I was worthless, I got what I deserved, etc.
Once upon a time…
A long ass time ago in the 80s — a decade and generation made fun of often (and sometimes rightfully so) — I was a teenager with hopes and dreams like other kids. I was going to be a lawyer and live in New Hope, PA. I was going to drive a Jaguar and would have maybe a cat. That was my future story because I hated being a kid, hated other kids, and never wanted kids.
As I navigated through life I did my best but always felt that my best wasn’t good enough. My intentions were always clouded with the opinions of others. You should keep the baby. You should get married. You should get your kids back. You should kill yourself. I took all of these suggestions literally and with each decision based on the opinions of others, the regret wheel spun like a rickety carnival wheel.
I alone live with my choices.
Despite listening to the opinions of others, I alone live with my choices. There were two things I’ve truly regretted in my life. The first one was not walking back in my house in late September of 1987. The second one was not giving my son up for adoption in 1989. Through the last 30 plus years, I mulled over those decisions, self-sabotaged over them, drank over them.
And you know what? I didn’t walk back in the house in 1987. I didn’t give my son up for adoption in 1989. I’ve accepted those choices now.
The parts of my story that made me who I was I have since rewritten and now make me who I am. What does that mean?
It means regret is useless… it changes nothing. I can’t go back and change any of it, so what’s the sense in getting sucked into an ocean raging with ‘If only’ when all it does is keep me stuck? No thanks. I spent decades wallowing in self-pity, blame, self-sabotage, etc. An entire catalog of detrimental coping mechanisms were always at the ready when I wanted to wallow. “But you don’t understand! I should have done this! And why did I do that?” I’d cry as I sucked down shot after shot of Blackhaus.
Regret was a way for me to stay stuck in the past and blame whatever happened then for whatever was happening now.
Let me be clear: negative emotion is normal, human, and a part of the life process. No one is 100% ‘on the ball’ every waking moment of their life. I, a person who believes I am 100% responsible for the choices I make, have bad days! I wake up with headaches, I get crabby, I still get frustrated in traffic. But how does the past tie into all of that?
“Oh, if only I left the second time my ex-husband beat me. If only I had given my son up for adoption so he could have a better life…”
Whatever. It happened and I can’t do shit about it. But what I can do is chalk it up as a hardcore learning experience and use it as fuel to take me where I want to go.
Get busy living or get busy dying.
I’ve heard that quote a dozen times — get busy living or get busy dying. Each time it means something different to me. These days, it is not so literal: live or die in body. It means, let it go. Let it the hell go. Live or die in spirit. Don’t let people make you hold onto shit. Don’t try to make other people hold onto their shit. Get busy living: free yourself from the past. Or get busy dying: let regret and resentment hold you to the past and keep you stuck.
I’m happy things turned out the way they did.
Today, I am 47 years old. I have four children between the ages of 31 and 25. I have three grandchildren. My relationships with three of my kids have been mended. We all made it out of Philadelphia which is a blessing, honestly. My original story was sad and devastating and maybe I’ll tell it some day. I’ve tried to write about it numerous times, but it doesn’t serve me. I always ask myself, “how many times are you going to dig this crap up?” I made peace with my past… all of it. I stopped sucking down shots of anything, stopped popping pills, stopped snorting cocaine. I stopped feeling sorry for myself and instead made amends to my children. I accepted how things went, the choices I made, and how I got here today. I accepted it and let go of any regrets because letting go set me free.
Darlene has been sober since 2006 and incorporates sobriety and recovery into all her work. When she isn’t driving the backroads of Pennsylvania looking for ghost towns, she is home with her husband and rescue kitty, listening to music and creating. She can be reached at: damcgarrity@gmail.com
