My Wednesday morning begins as all Wednesday mornings begin. I wake from a strange night of sleep, a night that is marred by unusual dreams, last night of a particular sexual nature with strange Freudian undertones-I dream of Angus as my philosophy professor, a professor I am having an affair with. Sometime in the early dawn a rooster decided to try to wake us up, strutting his stuff and marking the morning with a heinous squeaking chuckle of a cackle, an annoyance that woke me and settled into my brain, leaving me wondering who the hell has the nerve to keep a rooster around.

A cup of coffee, a shower, and a kiss goodbye from my lovely Angus as he drops me off at the train station, leaving me to sidle up to the train platform on a quiet Autumn morning. I stand at the edge of the platform, looking out. The morning is dim and foggy, and as I stand looking up at the grey sky a sheath of leaves drops from the trees overhead, drifting down to the train tracks like the confetti in a bridal shower. I bundle my scarf closer to my neck and zip up my jacket, feeling the chill in the air for the first time, feeling the decided draw of fall sink into my bones.

I remember my dream, and think about it. In college I had a French professor who I very nearly had an affair with. A 40-something year old Frenchman from a wealthy family, he had bunked out of the life he had (he used to talk about the massive chateau his family had back in France) to buy a large house in the suburbs of Arlington, to idly teach French at the local university while trying to figure out where to go with his life. It was an advanced French class I was in, one in which we were required to speak only French in class. Of the class of 8 people I knew he fancied me, and I knew it not in that smug "somebody likes me" kind-of-way, but in the honest way when something in your stomach just tells you that's how it is. One evening he had a dinner party at his house and I was invited, along with a number of others. He invited me upstairs to see his bedroom. He showed me the monstrous room, leading me to the bathroom, keeping his hand on the small of my back, rubbing it gently. I saw, in the bathroom, an enormous jacuzzi bath and a separate area for the toilet, strangely separated from the rest of the bathroom by old-fashioned swinging saloon doors. When I peeked over the doors, I saw Paris Match magazine on the floor'¦and track marks in the bottom of his toilet bowl.

I went right off of him then, and we never did hook up.

And as I stand there looking out over the train platform, I think about my life in the heavy-handed way I always look at my life, like a bug under the glass or a case study in a text.

I used to say that I have no regrets, that life is too short to regret. I used to think that having a regret meant that we spent time churning and burning in our hearts and minds over endless "what-if" and "what if I had only done that?" scenarios. And when you're as burdened as I am by endless movie clips of the past, that's an area you just don't want to go to. There's no more room for personal pugilism in my heart-I have enough endless replays of knock-outs in there.

It's slowly, over time, I have learned that I am not above regret. What makes me so special, that I have no regrets? What makes me think I am above everybody else, that I can attempt to live life so carelessly, so without responsibility? That time is over now. I am the ridiculous anime unicorn, whispering softly "I never had regrets. But I do now. I regret."

My list of regrets isn't enormous. It's not two stone tablets that I have to carry around on my back. My regrets are quiet moments, little things that, from time to time, have the sepia tint of "what if", have the painful burning orange of "if only I had/hadn't done this'¦" Or even, "if only I had done this better."

I don't regret not hooking up with my French teacher. I don't regret switching to anthropology in college, as it has taken me where I am. I don't regret either of my marriages. I don't regret trying to kill myself although I am very sorry for the pain it caused others-it was the wake-up call I needed to try to start working on myself, to try to stop keeping everything inside. I don't regret moving to England and working for Dream Job, and I don't regret a single moment of time I've had with Angus (in fact I am grateful for the moments we get).

What do I regret?

- I regret not being there more for Kim while he was ill. I know the outcome would be the same, I know he would still have died. I just always thought he would make it, and knowing what I do now (fucking hindsight and all that), I would've tried to get more time with him before saying goodbye forever. I should have sat by his side, I should have called more, I shouldn't have had such faith that he would make it. And I don't even think we would've been together in the relationship sense'¦I just wish he would've known how he had me at his side, as his friend, until the very end.

- I regret once saying something terribly cruel to my grandfather. I was young, I was angry and I know he forgave me. But I regret it all the same.

- I regret hurting anyone who was hurt, with regards to Angus and I. That said, I don't really know how I could have gone about things differently, or how to do have made things better.

- I regret not standing up for myself more often in my life. I have been run down, run over, run ragged so many times in my life, and it fills me with a quiet inner-rage and hatred when I think about how I didn't do something to defend myself more.

- I regret that I am so closed up and closed-off that I haven't got very many friends. I wish I could open up more. I wish I had opened up more.

- I regret my self-destructive and self-abusive behavior. Some of my scars are obvious, and the ones that aren't run very, very deep.

- I regret not holding Angus' hand in Boston.

- I regret giving up my dog, Ed. I wish I had him still and I miss him terribly.

I'm sure there will be more, I'm sure that the list is not exhaustive. But the truth is, the regrets don't lay heavily on my soul all the time. Idle moments of idle pain, and then when it passes, it's ok.

Maybe it's that way for everyone.

-H.

PS-Angus and I are off to Bristol tonight-my favorite singer in the world, Sarah McLachlan, is going to be performing there, and luckily we have tickets. I am so pleased...

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 12:24 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 1255 words, total size 7 kb.

1 ah, there's yer blog! i couldn't open it earlier. have a wonderful time at the concert!

Posted by: kat at October 27, 2004 11:26 PM (FhSIP)

2 Sarah's a fave of mine as well. As for the quiet and inner rate for not sticking up for yourself... I deal with that all the time. I replay scenes from my past over and over... but you know.. you can't beat yourself up about it. There's nothing you could have done differently considering who you were, and what the state of your world was at the time. At least that's what I tell myself.

Posted by: Snidget at October 28, 2004 01:22 AM (votP0)

3 'Regrets..I've had a few. But in the end, too few to mention...' Sarah rocks. I got free tix to see The Divine Ms. M on Monday night. From a brand new - and sadly rare for me, also - girlfriend at work. I was shocked to have been asked, and am first-day-of-school nervous. Isnt' that stupid? Helen - you've got a friend. Or a thousand. You do know that, somewhere in there, I hope. And I hope in the ocassional idle moment, this knowledge makes you smile inside.

Posted by: Jennifer at October 28, 2004 01:59 AM (zceqK)

4 And wouldn't it be swell if I could occasionally spell the word occasional correctly? Occasionally, it gives me fits, but just look at it, anyway. Occasional. What a silly looking word. My way is better, eh? Ocassionally, anyhow. :-)

Posted by: Jennifer at October 28, 2004 02:03 AM (zceqK)

5 an amazing, insightful post. I have found that admitting my past mistakes (regrets...) has been one of the most freeing experiences of my life.

Posted by: klo at October 28, 2004 03:09 AM (R2x2M)

6 I hope you enjoyed your night! Regrets is something everyone has, no matter in what form. By it reminding us of the past, it helps us not make the same mistakes in the future. Nice post!

Posted by: MrBob at October 28, 2004 05:12 AM (Tbo3w)

7 This is the first time I have posted on your blog as I just happened upon it most recently and started reading. You have a knack for journaling. As for regrets, we all have them and I think they make us better. But there is nothing you can do for that pang you feel in your stomach when you think of a regret other than not repeat the mistake again. As for Sarah, I saw her two months ago here in the states and it was one of the BEST concerts I have ever been to. The show was very intimate and she is a million times better live than on cd which you would think could not be possible!!

Posted by: EJ at October 28, 2004 06:39 AM (uqrgg)

8 I think it may be that way for most people. Healthy people, anyway. I have always comforted myself by saying "I did what I thought was best at the time." That's all anyone can do. Hindsight is ALWAYS 20/20. And I echo what Jennifer said: you can also use those quiet times to reflect on just how many people think you're wonderful. And then just TRY to get your swelled head through the train's doorway, eh? :: wink :: Because of you, I purchased Fumbling Towards Ecstasy and I love it. Truly. It makes me feel a little closer to you. Mkay. I'll stop with the Innerweb Stalker sounding note. Hope the concert was swell! xoxo

Posted by: Margi at October 28, 2004 09:35 AM (MAdsZ)

9 Regret is a waste of spirit. Learn from what each of these "regrets" has taught you, realise you can't change the past and use them to improve your future. Here endeth the Antony Robbins lecture.

Posted by: Simon at October 28, 2004 11:04 AM (UKqGy)

10 I think regret (like other emotions we don't like: sadness, stress, fear,...) can have great value. It's good to minimize how much one focuses on regret; but it can be an excellent "tool" used to help one keep from making the same mistakes. We see it all the time where someone learns a lesson the hard way and then repeats it later. The occasional (that wasn't so hard Jennifer pain of regret can help keep that lesson from being forgotten. But focusing on regret is destructive and demoralizing, and shouldn't be done.

Posted by: Solomon at October 28, 2004 03:55 PM (k1sTy)

11 Important life lesson there, really. Always clean the toilet before trying to seduce someone.

Posted by: Sigivald at October 28, 2004 09:31 PM (4JnZM)

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