A lady was talking to me about the blog recently, and she let on that I should, or at least might, be ashamed of some of the things from my past that I’ve mentioned here. Well, I am, which is why those things bear mentioning.
Of course I’m ashamed of some of those things, and I regret so much of a couple and a half decades. I don’t understand people who say they don’t have regret for things in their past. I’ve probably mentioned that here before, but maybe it should be said again.
Yes, I understand the reasoning; “I can’t regret anything because everything from my past goes into the make-up of who I am today, and if I’m cool with who I am today, I can’t regret anything that’s part of that.” It’s not that I don’t get that, I do; still, as pleased as I am with who and where I am these days, what’s to say that I wouldn’t even be more so if I’d caught on to how mature life is to be lived earlier.
There’s much of my past that shames me, much I regret, but shying away from it seems to redouble its damage. If owning up to it, if bringing it here can help someone take something from it, then I can’t hide from the shame of it.
That being the case, I probably don’t need to be reminded how shamefully I’ve acted or how much regret I should have; I’ve enough of all of that to do me.
Much love. Happy Sunday!