Tag: friendship

No Regrets

I don’t regret my life. The choices I’ve made, the mistakes I’ve made. The people I have known. It bothers me that I care too much, and I feel pain when they feel pain or when they cause me pain.

I don’t regret because that what’s shaped me and made me the person I am today. Flawed, fragile but surprisingly strong. I wish things were different, had panned out in a more positive way but they don’t and never would. Someone always gets hurt.

I don’t regret because whatever I did I loved at that moment and I chose it. Life should be lived in the moment and not cautiously. To live cautiously is a half life. It is a pain free life but what is life without pain, or hurt, or upset? I cannot live a numb life.

I don’t regret because that is facing the past and not the future. What is in the future no one knows but I won’t regret it. How could I? I choose to walk a path boldly and without fear of what might be there, because I can deal with it.

I don’t regret the life I’ve lived. It has given me so much. So much to be grateful for in comparison to the things that pain me. The nature of pain is that it usually diminishes in time. It is a fleeting feeling.

Guilt and regret stay with you. I carry guilt heavily but I am working to free myself from a lifetime of pointless guilt, why feel guilty over imagined crimes and slights long forgotten?

So, no regrets. Never.

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Birdhouse In Your Soul – PTSD and me

So we’ve figured out I’m a moody unfeminine weirdo with a penchant for angry, shouty rock music and I’ve been going through a dark patch. Well I thought it was time for a quick pre-holiday, enforced time away from blog update. I promise when I get back from hols the recipes and kiddie stuff will recommence.

I’m a very lovely person, I’m helpful and kind and friendly. My friends say I’m funny and sweet and I’ve got the dirtiest laugh in Manchester (fact), but my kindness makes me vulnerable which is a terrible thing.

Being nice has gotten me into heaps of trouble and scrapes in the past. Despite not being much of a looker I have managed to acquire a couple of stalkers. One of which terrifyingly used to follow me home and stand, staring outside my window for hours. In the end a couple of burly mates warned him off but he’d still loiter outside my office at work trying to see me. Creepy.

The scariest incident was dealing with an incredibly vulnerable man at work. I was calm, professional and lovely towards him. Never crossing boundaries just being helpful and sympathetic. He locked me in a room and sexually assaulted me. My screams alerted security and they kicked the door down before things got out of hand, but still the damage was done and eventually two years later I was diagnosed with PTSD.

In reality nobody died, things could’ve been a lot worse but still, my kindness is a weakness which gets taken advantage of. It’s hard because I like being kind. I like being the person people come to with their troubles and we bandy them about over a brew. I don’t want to harden my heart but I’m not sure how much my own vulnerable little heart can take.

It’s been stepped on recently and as much as I wish my friend (who did the stepping) all the love and luck in the world fixing their vulnerable, broken little heart, I kind of wish they’d thought of mine too. But mental illness makes lovely people selfish and hurtful. I just hope they find peace and when they do return to help me find my peace.