TRIGGER WARNING: COMPLAINING, SELF-PITY, NEGATIVE THINKING
If you are relentlessly upbeat read no further.
One of the highlights of my month is getting together and schmoozing with a group of intelligent older women for a “peer group” meeting. We discuss a different topic every month. When I got an email with this month’s topic I was dismayed, to say the least:
The story of our lives is a series of chapters. If asked to describe the chapter you are in right now, how would you do it? Could you name it? How would you describe it?
I hit reply all with: “ Eeeek. Hard to put a positive spin on my current chapter. Shall we say disease, decline and death. Maybe I should stay home.”
Our group leader, who is unfailingly kind, responded, “please come, we all walk with you.”
But someone else responded “Save your complaints for the meeting.”
Mmmm. Is it complaints I have…or regrets? Is it OK to have regrets?
What CAN you say that’s positive about that last chapter?
I was talking with my friend Linda, who lives in California, about our tendency to ruminate on the past and tally up regrets. She’s an aspiring Buddhist and says all we have is right now. Back in the sixties I was an admirer of Ram Dass and I treasured my dog-eared copy of Be Here Now. Actually, the graphics appealed to me more than the message which I couldn’t adhere to then and still can’t. OK, I’ve been here now a few times but those moments were mostly situational: a gorgeous day, a good swim, a great book.
Mostly I’m there, then. Mulling over my regrets. Doing what my friend Linda calls, “the tally.”
When you mention being plagued with regrets people tend to look horrified, as if you’ve mentioned you have some communicable disease. Regret is anathema in our “bright sided” culture as Barbara Ehrenreich has noted in a book about the negative side of positive thinking.
Hillary Clinton’s advice is typical: “Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been.” Do you really believe she doesn’t dwell on what might have been? Michigan anyone?
Americans believe you can always start over, no matter what you’ve been through. I can’t count the times I’ve heard “It’s never too late.” when I complain about being lonely. Everyone knows someone who found true love at 85. I suppose I could win the lottery too, but I’m not counting on it.
I did a little internet research and found that there are more nuanced takes on regret.
“There is no shame in wondering whether or not things could have been done better or differently,” advises Rabbi Wayne Allen. Healthy regret is not a fault but a manifestation of a thoughtful and self-evaluative soul.”
Henry David Thoreau agreed: “Make the most of your regrets, never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.”
Even Google has an interesting perspective on regret. << Why do we regret? Feeling regret reminds us to think carefully about our decisions and helps us not to make the same mistakes again. Regrets are also how we learn about ourselves, and know what it is we really want. In feeling regret, we have clarity about what outcome and things we truly want for ourselves.>>
Maybe if Edith Piaf had felt some regret instead of defiantly singing “Je ne regrette rien,” she would have lived past her 40s.
As for me, well, I did learn from my regrets. I stopped smoking and starting taking care of my health. But for other bad choices there are no do-overs. Some losses are permanent, emotional damage runs deep, opportunity is finite, the older you get the harder it is to bounce back. Doors keep slamming shut as we get closer to death. But in our relentlessly upbeat Facebook culture we’re expected to have no regrets, to smother negative feelings at all costs, to not dwell on the past.
Tough. I dwell.
Like big blue eyes, I did it my way. I made a lot of mistakes but unfortunately, I didn’t have Ava Gardner, a million bucks and a country full of adoring fans, not to speak of a Family to rescue me when I screwed up, so I wound up with a ton of lingering regrets instead. It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t a man. We women tend to take the weight of the world on our shoulders.
Maybe I’ll get a do-over in the next life. As for the last chapter of this life, I intend to indulge in as much self-pity as possible. After, all, if I don’t feel sorry for myself, who will?