Letting Go Of Regrets by Beach T. Weston Just Beachie
When you have done-yourself-wrong or have been done-wrong-to (forgiving, letting go) can be a challenge. Sometimes no matter how hard you try to let go—regret, and anger inevitably creep into the mix of emotions. And let’s face it, regret is a word with a doggie-downer tone. It’s also a word that is probably unavoidable during some point in our life.
“They” say we must release regret—let it fly like a peaceful dove being set free from its cage. We must be strong and move past disappointment, and sad remorse.
Easily said, not easily done.
Over ninety-five percent of us have at some time fallen into this tragic state—where frustration consumes you, and condemning self-examination leads to a mass of one-on-one, soul bearing conversations. The why question plagues your day: Why didn’t I make better choices? Why wasn’t I thinking? What the hell was I thinking?
The why questions are usually accompanied by the if only: If only I’d been wiser. If only I was more confidence. If only I didn’t let ridiculous people hurt me or use me.
And then we return to the why question: Why didn’t I stand up for myself? Why…if only…why…if only…why…if only…
Our regrets turn into lava streams, flowing fast and hot, fresh from the volcanic eruptions in our minds.
An Island’s lava flow eventually finds a path to the sea where it fizzles, and expands the size and strength of the Island. In a perfect world our disappointments would be like lava, and fizzle—leaving behind a stronger mind and body. In a perfect world.
While most regrets are not funny, thank goodness once in a while a regret can be humorous—after the fact of course.
Why didn’t I drink Shirley Temples instead of five Cosmopolitans. I might not have gotten married at the Elvis Chapel drive-thru singing Viva Las Vegas!
Why did I have to eat the entire pie!? Not two or three pieces, but the entire pie!
Why did I go swimming when there was a beach sign posted: “Swim at your own risk, gray water.” The picture of the fish with a large fin should have been the giveaway. If I had taken heed, I might not have a nibble scar on my big toe.
Personally, I’m a stew-pot, and letting go of regret is not easy for me. I’m not one to turn the other cheek, but I do believe in loving yourself and seeking a healthy release for anger.
In the spirit of finding peace, invite a few good friends over for a letting-go-party. Ask your friends to write on a piece of paper their regret or regrets. They can choose to share or not share. This will be followed by burning the piece of paper (fire extinguisher in hand)—releasing the burden to the Great Spirit In The Sky.
If your friends need additional therapy, I suggest joining a kick boxing class. It’s good exercise and almost way better than kicking yourself or the fool who done-ya-wrong. I said, almost.
In peace and love and a good kick in the patootie, Beach
