Regret

On the way home tonight I was suffused with a mild regret. No need for any detail. It got me to thinking, yet again, about people I have known, and can know no longer. The sound of slamming doors. My wife, ex wife, whom I certainly may never see again. My father, likewise, except his health issue may cover me once more in his shadow. My sons, not of my body but my heart, gone now. It's more than a mild regret. Words like stain and scar and brokenness spring to mind. It must, must be this way with everyone. I just get stuck in it.

But I was thinking more of the social aspect, people I have known. What a pattern of dysfunction. I seem to call it out of the world. It is my mission, apparently. That's what I must be regretting. My regrettable personality.

Ah well. I was as depressed as I'd ever been, a couple of months ago. Perhaps you remember? Then a few weeks ago I became aware that the oppressive dark presence I could feel descending wasn't around anymore. A blessing. It hasn't been back. Past few days I've been depressed, but it is of a different order. Much less. Got bad last night, or whenever -- maybe the night before -- just wanting to blink out of existence. How do people continue? Well, we know the answer. Just by doing it.

In the news today, the "father" who killed his five kids, his wife and then himself. Wrong order. But I do get it. I understand. No sympathy for it, but I understand. My egotism isn't of that particular caliber. There are people who need to be killed. None of them are kids. I get it, most certainly, going out in a spectacular spray of bloodshed. Really I do. I'm just too rational to do it. Most of the voices inside my head are sane.

Anyway, it has to do with hope. Another reason people are important to one another. Hope is nurtured by encouragement. Which must be honest. Otherwise it's infantalizing. Oh, this crap job you did is so good! Praise should be meaningful and valuable -- which means not wasted. That way, we can trust it, and trust is what hope is about.

We regret lost opportunity. We regret lost achievement. We regret lost friendships and lost loved ones. We we we. I regret. But I am a slave, it seems, to the past, to my character, to my fear. Trust is too expensive. I know this is true, because those who should have trusted me did not. I say should. Maybe they were right. No, I'm not being morbid. Foolish, yes, but not morbid.

Ah well. I'm not depressed now. I just like to explore these things, during and afterward. It's not courage, but done properly it is a peephole into wisdom. Wisdom must be a species of encouragement.

I'm feeling the need to get physical again. Maybe up the cf workouts. We shall see. Meantime, thank you, you several few, who have remembered me in your prayers. It made a difference, apparently. The demon hasn't been back. Yet.


J