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”
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.”
I’m struggling to fully heal from some hurt. What’s making it worse is that one particular person knows I’m flailing and her response has been to pull away from me. She’s leery, I guess, afraid I need too much from her. She’s fixated on the past and what I needed at the onset of my pain—because at this point, I’ve sworn all I really need from her is some grace.
And she won’t give it to me.
Continue reading “She gets some grace, and he gets some grace, and they get some grace too! Sorry though, there’s just no grace left over for you.”
Who can say how I got started? I told one lie and then another and it just snowballed from there.
Continue reading “Once You Start Lying, It’s Really Hard to Stop”
I did it AGAIN. I gave in and had a heaping helping of jealousy with some envy sprinkled over-generously on top for bad measure. Within minutes I felt sick. And I know better. I know exactly how rotten my insides will feel just moments after I reach for jealousy and gulp it down. And I always gulp it down, because there is no savoring jealousy.
Continue reading “I Ate Jealousy For Breakfast, with Some Envy Sprinkled On Top”