Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Living With Regrets

I always tell myself that I prefer to live my life without regrets.  Everything happens for a reason.  Everything that happens makes me who I am.

As I've contemplated this more, though, I've determined that I want my life to be overflowing with regrets.

I read a quote sometime back, not sure where or by who, but it was something to the effect of enjoying life and being satisfied with living with regrets for the things you've done, rather than living with regret over the things you never did.

There is good regret, after all.  And good regret is what I'm after in this lifetime. 

I may regret wasting the last roll of toilet paper in a toilet paper fight with my daughter.  Who uses the last roll of toilet paper in the house to have a toilet paper fight?  Well, apparently, I do.  And what I don't regret is the priceless smile and hysterical laughter bubbling out of my kiddo, the wide-eyed wonder on her face as she took in her normally low-key mom whipping around toilet paper all over the stairs and hallway. 

I may regret staying out all night with a friend because it meant that I was painfully exhausted the next day.  But I don't regret that in the time I was out, we talked and laughed and shared secrets and problem solved and that more importantly, we took the opportunity to be good friends to each other and re-connected after a long hiatus.

I may regret choices that I've made, things I've done, things I've said...but if the trade-off is learning to be a better person, then bring it on.  I'm looking forward to a life of regrets.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Behind the Mask

Several weeks ago, my daughter was struggling with some anxieties and fears...anxieties and fears about things she'd seen, things she'd been told by a kid at school, things she didn't understand.  Lots of bad dreams and nightmares.

Basically, it boiled down to one word. 


For children, monsters are very real.  They're shaggy, sharp-toothed creatures with black claws and red eyes.  They're slimy beings that can slide and slither under doors, foggy air that seeps through window screens and drapes over the bed, cloaking the sleeper in a stranglehold of nightmares.  Monsters are horrible dragons and vampires and the boogey man.

I held her close, rubbing her back and kissing her head.  "Shhh," I said.  "No worries, baby.  Monsters are just people with masks on.  It's makeup and special effects and all very, very pretend."

Afterward, guilt nagged at me.  I thought about what I said.  "Monsters are just people with masks on."  That's true sometimes. 

But other times?

Other times, the mask is safe.  It's the monster lurking behind that we must fear.

Forget about the boogey man, monsters under the bed, the beast in the forest, mysterious things that go bump in the night.  None of them are relevant.  None of them are real.  They don't matter.  Our imaginations can't hurt us.

The worst fear in the world is fear of people.  Fear of the monster you know.  Fear of the person behind the mask, because you know who is know the evil, the anger, the outcome you already know is coming, the violence that floats just beneath the surface of the mask that he or she wears so well in public.

Fear of the known is far worse than fear of the unknown.  At least with the unknown, our imagined fear is often greater than real fear. 

Aside from all of that, though, I think about what to teach my daughter and how to teach her to manage fear, to overcome fear, or at the very least, to live with the known and unknown.  I haven't mastered it myself yet! 

Conquering fear itself.  That's nowhere in the parent manual.