No Regrets



I have a lot of regrets. That’s just part of life. Making choices and dealing with the blowback if there actually happens to be some with a bad decision. The question of “If you could be honest with no regrets, what would you say? To whom would you say it?” makes me cringe.

I think I would want to sit down with the one person from my childhood who caused me more trauma than anyone could have ever thought possible. To tell her that every day of my life I made choices not to do what I really wanted, not to relax and trust other people, and to think there was something wrong with me, was because of her and what she did for three years. The summer of ’78 started the rest of my life as being a troubled eight-year-old, mistrusting of others, low self-worth, and low self-esteem, being rebellious, thinking everyone was only out to hurt me. That her friendship was supposed to be something more than trying to hide from her every day until we were sixteen because I didn’t know how to act or what to say. That the anger in me was more than I could control around her. That I’m sorry for attacking her physically when we were seventeen instead of just telling her what she did to me was wrong. That because I believed everything she told me, I never once asked for help or told anyone. That because she never apologized for what she put me through, what she convinced me was ‘normal’ my life would never be what it was supposed to be. That because of her, I am who I am. To let her know that she started something that didn’t end with her and because of her, she wasn’t the only one who hurt me. But now I’m stronger, I’m a survivor, a warrior. I fight every day and will fight the rest of my life.


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