It’s all very well droning on in these pages about the big stuff, all
those things about which I know very little, but just enough to fill a page or
two which is of little interest to anyone who’s not really interested, and even
less so to those that are, because they already know about that stuff anyway.
Sometimes you need to get back to the basics, that fundamental sense of asking
yourself “what’s it all for?” and realise that what you really, really need to
do is write about what you feel for a little while at least, until you (and
your diminishing audience no doubt) tire of that too and move on to
something else instead.
Today, I’m thinking about regrets.
You know those things about which there supposed to be too few to
mention… Well, believe me, I’ve got lots and, whilst most of the time they lie
buried in the back of my mind and seldom trouble me, occasionally they will
just bubble up to the surface like a weighted cadaver in a murder mystery and
get spotted by a passing early morning dog walker and bump the plot in a new
and unexpected direction.
Most of my regrets, however, are not big or life changing. I seldom feel
that “I wish I’d done this, or that, or the other…” In many ways I’m pretty
content with how things have turned out so far, but that notion that “I
wouldn’t change a thing” is an ideal that, I think, is always likely to escape
me. I do occasionally want to crawl under a rock with shame and embarrassment
over one or two of the more crass things that I’ve said or done, but I don’t imagine
that there’s anyone ever who hasn’t said something that they wish they hadn’t
or done something that they shouldn’t, and I’m pretty sure there are people
who’ve done far more of far worse than I ever did, so none of that kind of
thinking is all that original.
I think my biggest regret is the number of close friendships that I’ve
allowed to just slip away to nothing. Friendships formed in the crucibles of
the nursery or schoolrooms, friendships formed in the fiery furnaces of further
education and the workplace, and those friendships formed out of adversity and
even the ones formed through mutual interest have somehow all managed to be
allowed to slip away from me and lie fallow and eventually fade to almost
nothingness where, I imagine, I hardly warrant the occasional slightly fond
memory.
This, of course, I can and will, put down to those crippling dual curses
of self-doubt and shyness which, whilst I know very few people actually admit
to having them, I’m actually rather sure more people do suffer from than we’d
like to think. Perhaps they’re just better at hiding them than I am, or are
more prepared to work at it than I ever was, in my defeatist, self-destructive
way.
I have, after all, usually (although less so recently) always found it
relatively easy to get along with people when I see them every day, but
whenever I move on, whilst the effort is still made for a while, I find that
being “out of the loop” for even the briefest of time adds a whole new level of
self-doubt and awkwardness to the situation which makes me dither and doubt and
start to wonder whether they would really be still interested in actually
spending time talking to me any more and even something so very simple as
making a telephone call can suddenly become this massive mountain to climb,
and, as time passes, the vast open plains that open up between us atop that
mountain mean that it’s seldom a journey I feel I can even begin to make the
first step on any more.
Then, some more time passes, and then some more, and the crippling embarrassment
of suddenly ringing up out of the blue at precisely the wrong moment when it’s
really not convenient, or they have guests around, or their third child is in
the process of being born, probably when I didn’t even know about the first
two, combined with that dreadful, dreadful sense that other people really do
seem able to “move on” just makes rebuilding those bridges almost impossible to
achieve and then months and years and decades go by and you find that those
people who were once your closest friends are now people you don’t even share
those four little words “All the best, M” with on an annual Christmas card any
more…
This is where the regrets start to happen, and, to a lesser extent, the
bitterness and the pain that I’m almost (but not quite) too shy to mention. After all, it was always
supposed to be a two-way street, wasn’t it…? If I’m feeling so guilty at the
loss, then why aren’t they? Is their life now so full and interesting that they
don’t have a tiny little place in it for someone thy once considered to be a “friend”…? Have I really become known amongst that clan, as the one they call “the
forgotten man”…?
Or perhaps they too believe that the mountains are too high, the
plateaus too wide, or far too much water has flowed under way too many bridges,
that the simple act of making that call would just prove to be far too awkward,
far too stilted and just prove without doubt that we really do have nothing in
common any more.
Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps that’s what we really want to cling on to. If
we don’t finally find out to the contrary, perhaps we still feel that there is
just the slightest spark of a latent friendship somewhere out there in the
darkness, just waiting to be rekindled…
So, if you really want to, call me. I
After all, you know me well enough to know by now that I’m far too shy and broken to ever summon up enough courage to call you…
I have a regret list as long as your proverbial arm and each day seems to bring a new one. I've just replied to another blogging friend and I know that I shall live to regret my response.
ReplyDeleteTo live without regret is probably not to have lived at all. After all, the only way to avoid them is to do nothing. Those people who say 'I have no regrets' are either lying, pollyanna's, stupid, or insufferably insensitive to others.
I'd like a few less regrets, a few less reasons to internally blush when I think of some of the things I've done. But regret is probably better than the alternatives.
Well put...
DeleteAs ever, regrettably, there's little that I can add except to say that I agree with your assessment.
And I regret that (as you will have seen above, I hope) I couldn't have put it quite so well myself. :-(
I feel exactly the same. I am ashamed by the way I have lost touch with so many relatives who were once so close and important to me during difficult times. To me, this is even worse than losing touch with friends. I am full of guilt which has prevented me for many years from facing the embarrassment of making that phone call. Recently, an elderly uncle became ill and this prompted me to spend more time with him which brought me into contact with some of my long lost relatives. It was awkward and embarrassing to admit that we knew nothing about each other's lives since our last meeting about twenty years earlier. Whole families had grown and started families of their own. I was so relieved to be able to break the ice and it was obvious that all parties felt the same way. We have swapped up-to-date contact details and have committed to 'keep in touch'. Your piece has reminded me that the phone call is already overdue.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I love the "weighted cadaver" analogy.
You see... It's not just me...!
DeleteIt still surprises me that, in this modern society that we have built for ourselves, in which we can communicate so very much more easily than we ever could, so many of us still find it so very difficult to actually do so.
Thank you for the kind words, and good luck with your new-found channels of communication.
I rarely call anyone unless it's for work or urgent. I remember times when friends would phone up every week or so for a chat, but that never happens now. I suspect most of us regret losing the people we liked but didn't keep in touch with, until one day it just became too awkward and too late.
ReplyDeleteI remember when it was normal for me to go and stay with friends in other cities, but that now seems to require a huge amount of energy, organisation and social skill that I no longer have.
Ah well, at least I get a cheap phone contract....
This topic does seem to have got a few people thinking this morning, which is, I suppose, what I've always hoped for with my scribbling - er, keyboarding - down of these humble meanderings through my mind, so that's nice :-)
DeleteI miss having these kinds of discussions... Maybe I should phone a few more people up...?