Lived to Regret It
There are a lot of things I regret. A lot of experiences that made me who I am today but that I could’ve done without.
I think it’s a noble act, really — seeking to have a life that is regret-free. However, it’s one of those things that skews way too optimistic for my scale. As much as I’d like to look at a glass and see it bubbling over, the memories are burned into my brain.
While I am regretful over a handful of things, I am also thankful that I lived to regret those things.
I’m thankful for the strength that comes from heartbreak. Blessed by the caution that disappointment breeds. In constant pursuit of the humility borne from being knocked down.
I don’t find it necessary to become regretless, simply because regret is a reminder of grace and grace a reminder of mercy and mercy a reminder that despite your best intentions you’re still only here because of the one who made it so.
I have lived to regret a lot of things and that knowledge doesn’t clip my wings.
In fact, it gives me permission to soar — that I could live and regret and still come out on top.
And sure, a different decision here or there might very well have created a different me, but I am inclined to believe that I’d be just as happy with that person as I am with this one.
Would I even really know the difference?