Letting go

Regret, it’s a spiky old thing but I see it for what it is. I feel the emotion and I go with it be that crying, laughing or just taking a walk.  I breathe it in and out before finally letting go.

There will always be a psychological pain point that blindsides you on a Monday.

For me it was a simple form that asked ‘how many children do you have’?

I entered an obligatory zero before saying sorry. Sorry to Penny and sorry to myself because doing that just hurt.  I wanted to cross out the option actually and instead put of this earth and not of this earth, check that and then give it back. But it’s not the forms fault just like its not the person’s fault for asking the question.

I can’t be bitter about it. Just like I can’t expect them to know how it feels.

The world is round but it doesn’t revolve around me. I must evolve with it.

Besides I’ll see her again.  Them again.  As she is one of many. I don’t know that I will for sure of course but I choose to believe it.

And belief can be a powerful motivator.

I don’t want to be the sad topic of conversation at family gatherings. Just like I don’t want to be the one who everyone avoids because I can’t let go. Burdened by that gigantic chip on my shoulder.

It expends too much of the energy that I have left. And I’ve allocated that to my friends and family because like me, they’re only here for so long and they need love in this lifetime. And love I can do.

There will come a time when you have to choose whether you use your past as a weapon for good or evil because it can do both.

Will you hold people to ransom with it and continuously look for their sympathy, falling deeper into oblivion because you realise that they’ve moved on and you can’t.  Because they will.

Or will you let your pain inspire you to be better and show others just how far you’ve come.

I want my friends to know that they can still lean on me, cry on my shoulder if they want and rest easy knowing that I won’t be there trying to out-cry them.

Our grief connects us.

I hurt. People hurt. The world hurts.

The hurt leaves a wound and you can continue to rub salt into it for as long as you want to feel that agony. After all your time is your own.

Or you can leave it to heal and let that be a reminder to you and to everyone else that you weren’t just lucky enough to survive it, you were clever enough to let it be the thing that makes you stronger.