My regrets pursue me relentlessly when I am asleep.
The school I didn’t graduate from, the people I didn’t love (or love enough), the children I didn’t have. Things I did not say, thoughts I could not express.
Apparently, the ammo purse I carry doesn’t just carry my grudges against other people; it also carries the things I am holding against myself. I’m starting to wonder if it’s not actually an ammo trunk. Whatever it is, sometimes it opens of its own accord, and something is launched to explode in my face. Is the battle metaphor appropriate? I think it might be; depression is a constant struggle against an enemy that can only be glimpsed in the mirror.
My psychiatrist tells me to bury my past and stop thinking about my future; I know I’ve already told you this. And I have read things lately that suggest that the only way to move forward is to live in the present. Let the past go, let the future take care of itself, and just be everything you can be in this moment. This doesn’t mean don’t plan for future, it just means don’t worry about it.
My dreams tell me I’m a failure because I didn’t finish school. My waking thoughts tell me that I will die old and alone because I have no children. My dreams tell me about the lives I could have lived if someone had loved me rather than ignored me. My waking thoughts tell me I’m a coward for holding everything in, for not speaking up sooner.
I sleep with regret. I am constantly afraid when I’m awake. If I let go of fear of the future and regret about the past, imagine the freedom I would feel today.
Why does the idea scare me so much?
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