Yeah, I have them regularly, and then I regularly forget them as fast as I got them!
So I’mma tipity tap this one out before it becomes an historic thought, relegated to the archives of my memory banks somewhere.
I thought I wasn’t one for regretting shit. You know, I’ve done what I’ve done: lived as I’ve lived … some of that shit is best forgotten, but it all had it’s place in the making of Me. And then theres the stuff I didn’t write but was a-written for Me. Thats the shit I’ve dwelt on for the longest time … because I wasn’t in control of it … because other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time or being just too darn … small … I had no hand in … rather it was ‘done’ to Me.
Thats the shit I’ve been trying to let go of. No regrets, or so I thought, of the other shit I have been / done / not done.
But everyday, about this time, I get a gnawing sensation in my gutt. And being the dissociative retard that I am … I’m unsure whether its hunger, panic, menopause (thats the new entity arghh), pre-menstruation, anxiety … or just nothing at all and I’m actually waiting for the ‘impending doom’ that I’ve become accustomed to over the years.
So today, as I’m taking the anti-anxiety elixir, it occurs to Me to ask my tummy what the fuck is up with it.
“Puku”, I say … “why are you in knots? You’ve been fed – you’re not over-coffeed, or over-cigarette-ed, you had enough sleep … so what gives?”
She not so gentley replies: “You, you fucking retard! It’s You! …”
And away she goes:
“You … You have regrets. Not just little ones .. not just the extra piece of cake or the time you didn’t tell the plumber he was a fucking racist cunt … No, you regret everything else. You think you did everything wrong and thats why you are the way you are. You think you should have worked more, spent more time with the kids as they were growing up, not studied, studied more … you think you shouldn’t have had fun that night you got blitzed and passed out in town … it’s not the actions, you just think you should have done it ‘differently’ … yah know … more civilised. You regret everything because You believe you are a worthless piece of shit. You therefore not only regret everything, but you carry more guilt for everything you are and everything you aren’t – more guilt than one person should carry at any one time! You’re a regretful guilt-carry sack of shit.”
Note to self: I really should speak nicer to myself.
So thats the A-ha.
I’m trying to re-write a narrative that I’ve already -re-written – Into the Negative. And while I try-est my hard-est to change that groove, it can’t be changed if I’m not trying to re-write the Actual story.
It’s not a matter of justification, it’s a matter of embracing everything that I was … everything that I am. Because it is what it is.
Could I Really have done any better?
With what I had, No, I couldn’t have done any better.
But thats not what I tell myself … every, single, day.
No I tell myself (deep down in the pitt of my stomach), that I should have done better. That saying I made the most of it is an excuse. I shoulda woulda coulda done it differently … better …
Different … meaning, like everyone else?
Arrrggghhhh … since when the fuck did I want to be like everyone else?
“When I started to Believe That Everyone Else Was Better than Me and that I was nothing more than a dysfunctional retard that needed someone else to save Me”.
Now thats a bitch of a revelation. I don’t know that I like it, but Oh well.
Looks like I’m going to have to work on my ‘self-worth’.