For a long time, I've had a theory about regret--it's pointless. First because you can't change the past (you can't do or undo or do differently anything you've done or failed to do in the past) and, second because even if you could change the past, to do so would put everything in your present at risk. I believe strongly that our present is built of all the tiny moments that came before it and to change one moment might change everything--including all the things you wouldn't trade for anything.
The problem with theories is that they're so theoretical and when you're living life, especially as a parent with all the second-guessing that comes with the territory, regret is inevitable, it's an emotional reflex--and theories tend to fall a little flat in the face of all that reality.
Some days the gap between what I meant to do (and who I meant to be) and what I've actually managed to do seems like an unbridgeable chasm that stands between me and whatever possibilities are out there in my future. As miserable as it is to look around your life and feel that you've blown a million chances to do things better, faster, stronger, and just plain righter--to make all the "right" choices so that all the people counting on you could suffer a little less--there is some comfort to be found in knowing that we all face those feelings of failure.
Jules over at Dirty Feet and Lilywhite Intentions reminded me of that in her post "intentions fall to the floor." In just one short paragraph (and a few spare sentences), she cuts right to the heart of that sick feeling I've had in the pit of my stomach more and more often these days.
So for saying so much in so few words, here's my button:
And Jules, it's all yours.
Browse other winners from this month at Suburban Turmoil or Petroville. MommaK has set up a library of past winners so you can see a full year's worth of awards (and counting).
I Am Not a Wimp
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