Our personal regrets are powerful in how they work to shape us into the people we want to be. But our accomplishments are even more adept at molding us.
I’ve got an old suitcase bulging at the seams with regret. I don’t lug its oppressive heft around with me on the regular, but I do hold onto it because it’s packed with important reminders of unsavory venues I’ve visited—places I never want to return to.
I’ve never been able to comprehend it when someone insists, “I have no regrets.” I can’t fathom how that can be true. I wonder whether it’s a sentiment possibly born of faulty hindsight. Or perhaps some false bravado. I do understand, though, that we’re better served and better able to serve others by focusing on all that we don’t regret more than all that we do.
Continue reading “To Admit Your Regrets Or Not To; That Is The Question”
I typically tell someone I’m sorry for something 3 to 4 times a day. Lately, though, I catch myself before I apologize. Because I’ve realized in truth I’m not sorry, not even at all, and I’m not even sorry I’m not sorry, either.
Continue reading “No Longer Sorry: A Long Overdue New Rally Cry For The Warrior In Each Of Us”
Are you like me? Do you also have a secret (or a few) you don’t want to tell anyone? I get it. I do. One reason we choose not to share with others the toxic Twinkies our shame-filled secrets are, is we think we know how people will feel about us if we disclose our darkness. Because of the unsavory way we feel about ourselves over our missteps.
The night my husband confessed his affair to me, I learned volumes about secrets; including why we attempt to keep them and the negative effects of doing so. At 2:00am, too wracked with gut-wrenching guilt over what he knew he needed to tell me, he hadn’t yet been to sleep. The terror of having to tell me what he’d done had wired his brain to static awake. Long before he found the courage to speak, his palpably anxious energy woke me. Upon hearing me stir, he haltingly declared, “Jodie, I have to tell you something.”
Continue reading “Ending your too-long struggle with secrecy and shame: tell your hard story to break the heavy bonds of self-imposed silence and finally begin to heal fully.”
It had become obvious our friendship had suffered a significant setback, but I had no idea why. So I asked my friend. She told me nothing was wrong, if anything, it was her, not me. She said she’d just been so busy and under so much stress and she knew she’d been a terrible friend. She insisted she loved me so much and would try hard to show it better and she was so sorry she’d made me feel this way.
In effect, she gave me the runaround. I know it was the runaround because after that conversation things just got worse.
Continue reading “What’s the best way to end a friendship? Asking for a friend.”