Tag: regret

Demons

On By NB GwenIn The JourneyLeave a comment

“Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.” ― Voltaire

Before I moved into our new home, I have a beautiful Indian Ringneck parrot. She, however, had been aggressive towards my little birds (that I had before her), and I thought my best option was to rehome her.

Guilt is a large emotion. I feel it often. Rehoming her was the worse guilt I have had in a long time.

Fast forward a year and a half (about) later…the woman I rehomed her to could no longer care for her. I took her back instantly.

Welcome home, Kyra. I’m so sorry I let you down and didn’t push myself more for a better solution. Between Charman (the cat) trying to nab you, the littles getting hurt, and you being relegated to a cage because we were selling our house, I thought it was in your best interest. I see now just how wrong I was. I have missed you so much and I will carry that guilt with me always.

Guilt is one of my many demons. I have guilt for not being enough for everyone – human, animal, bird, everyone. Guilt for not calling my friends, guilt for not sending that email, guilt for not making it to that late show. I have guilt for not eating right in the past, guilt for not being enough for my husband, guilt for spending any money, guilt for not spending, guilt for not being able to get everything my kids could dream of.

Anxiety and guilt are best friends in my life.

I’m working on that. I’m working on letting go of the past. I’m working on ME.

Don’t let the demons swallow you up.

Imagine Dragons – Demons

Hurt

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“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

It’s funny the things that can trigger memories and bring them to the fore.

A song. A word. An action.

Sometimes the memories are incredible. My friends and I on the beach. Sun glinting in my eyes, the smell of freshwater, the laughing, the ability to just be.

Sometimes the memories are just that – memories. A smell, a sense of déjà vu. A heartbeat skipped in a moment, breath caught up in the wind.

Sometimes, though, sometimes the memories are dark. Lost loved ones – buried six feet under, never to be seen in this life again. Harsh words. Regrets of actions not taken. An ache in the chest so deep it bears witness to the emptiness that lies within. It can be put aside, forced to lay dormant until that moment – a song comes on the radio, sudden intake of breath, burning in the eyes, memories of loss, hurt, anguish.

Why do the hurtful ones seem the strongest? What is it about anguish?

I sit here typing, Hurt on repeat. It is trapped in a loop, just as I am. I missed a step somewhere along the way. I’ve had others tell me that I need to be in the moment. I need to move on. Mindfulness, they say, is the way to let go of that ache, that stress, that hurt.

But how? How does one forget and move on? Maybe forget is the wrong word, but as awful as my short term memory is, my long term memory is strong, sometimes too strong…

I’ve let myself down. I really don’t know what I’ve become or who I am anymore.  I put on a good show, I act like I know. But I don’t, and I can’t start over, I can’t keep myself from falling away. Everything feels surreal, and yet so incredibly, solidly real.

Johnny Cash – Hurt

Roar

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“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” ― Mary Anne Radmacher

Some days I feel like a little mouse. I wander through my day, nary disturbing a soul. Other days, I feel like a muted lion. I’m roaring, roaring so loud my ears are ringing and yet no one hears me.

When I was young, I was bullied. The bullying stopped when I changed schools, but the low self-esteem and extreme shyness didn’t.

As I grew older, I tried harder and harder to break out of that shell, but succeeded mostly in feeling worthless and acting happy. My relationships didn’t last – I was too busy doing what others thought I should do, but pretending to do ‘my thing’.

That combination of low self-esteem, losing someone I loved, and keeping up appearances landed me straight into a marriage that I didn’t really want. Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I need to clarify – I thought I was in love. I had left someone I loved dearly due to what others said I should do and fell into the arms of a man I would never have normally even looked at. He could sweat talk anyone and even though his controlling ways grew over our engagement, I thought I couldn’t say no anymore because I had already said yes and it was expected.

Years later, after we divorced (I won’t get into the details of our marriage, I have two beautiful older children who don’t deserve to read that online), I spent a few months trying to find ‘me’. I thought I knew me, but I didn’t. It was tumultuous, emotionally draining, and a hugely stressful time.

Out of that time I met my current husband. We met online playing World of Warcraft. We were friends first and foremost. I never even considered sparking anything with him until one day I asked if he was on Facebook. He was – and the rest is history.

I thought I had finally found myself with him. I love myself husband deeply. He stood by me when I was diagnosed with MS. He stood by my little family when my kids became harder and harder to cope with due to disabilities. He still stands by me and now our three children (we had one little guy together). I feel like I will never be able to tell him or express to him how much gratitude I have for him in my life.

He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2016. Our lives never seem easy.

I thought I knew me by now. But I don’t. At 44 years old, I am roaring to myself and no one hears. I have an inner anarchist that is never let loose due to propriety. I have to work full-time, I have to be a good mother, I have to be a good wife, I have to be a good care-taker, I have to be a good worker, I have to be a good everything.

The only problem is – I’m not a good me.

Katy Perry – Roar

Heavy

On By NB GwenIn The Journey

“Duty is heavy as a mountain, death is light as a feather.”  ― Robert Jordan

Mental health is a battle. A battle with yourself. A battle with society. A battle with perception. A battle with judgement.

Battles aren’t meant to be fought alone. A soldier never enters a field without his fellows.

When I hear the word battle, I think of something tragic, hard, frustrating, painful. Mental health is all of those…and more.

No one chooses to have to deal with all that. No one wakes up in the morning thinking, “Hey, I think I’ll be depressed today and not function in life.” Who wants that? No ONE.

With chronic illness, comes a host of chronic issues. Depression. Anxiety. Fatigue. Feelings of inadequacy. Regret. Fear. All of those and so much more.

Every day I wake up, I prepare myself for battle. Some days, I rock it. I win that day. Others, I flounder and trip over the simplest things and feel the judgement of the world on my shoulders.

“Love yourself!” That’s what I always hear from others. “You will never be happy with yourself, until you love yourself.” I really wish it was that easy. I envy those who are capable of doing just that.

Every day I wake up wondering if I will ever be enough. Enough for my husband. Enough for my children. Enough for my pets. Enough for my job.

I want to sleep. Not the regular type. I want to curl up in my bed and not move for days. But my body aches throughout the night, my bladder wakes me up. My hips tell me I can’t lay for too long and I have to keep moving. I have to keep going. I have to keep working.

For now, I have to keep moving. The weight of everything weighs on me, and I have no idea how to set myself free.

Linkin Park (feat. Kiiara) – Heavy

Regret

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“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’ve done many things in my life that have caused regret. I’ve been encumbered by my inability to act, by my inability to move past those days. I’ve been shackled by self-blame and self-hate.

It’s funny how a person can change as they age. Looking at myself as a 16 year old, I can see how carefree I was – unencumbered by life. I had issues, don’t get me wrong – but they were so minor compared to the rollercoaster of adulthood.

Regret can grip you tight and knot you up inside.

Regret.

I breathe in a great sigh.

I have wasted so much time on that one little six letter word…regret…

I am now 42 years old. I am enjoying knitting for the first time in my life (and getting creative with it). The pain and numbness of my hands does not stop me. I will not regret this. My daughter has the opportunity to go to Greece in her last year of high school…I will not regret that. My son shows more and more interest in computers and programing, I will no regret allowing him the screen-time to grow that interest. My youngest is slow to grow, but quick of mind – I will never regret nursing him as long as I have and I will never regret having him at my age.

I am learning to let go of regret. It’s a hard lesson, one that many do not heed, but it is a wonderful lesson. It is a lesson in self-love and self-acceptance.

I am learning to love myself…and that moves me past regret.

Ozzy Osbourne – Crazy Train