Like some people, I can be overly self-critical of my past.
A few times, I’ve been sat in meditative contemplation, just passing the time of day, with the calm silence of my thoughts. Trapped on a plane, train or automobile. A captive audience for an unwanted memory to bubble up. I can’t escape it. Suddenly, unexpectedly, like a geyser, I remember. Something I was grateful to let go of and forget.
I am right back there, in that moment. Before the shame, forgiveness and acceptance. Looking around the corner of a future decision, I am staring at the possible consequences of my potentially stupid actions and urging myself to walk away, not do it, calm down.
What was I thinking!
I thank my lucky stars that the majority of my misbehaviour was pre-internet. There may be the odd photo or vhs still around, but the right of my past to be forgotten is freely obtained purely due to virtue of when I was born.
However, I have no time for those whose tall tales of their bravado are always from their youth, and have no recent stories of misadventure or failure. A little probing and the timeline and facts don’t quite add up. I see it as a weakness to pretend to live a perfect life.
My errors of judgement were not illegal and may have fortunately only resulted in physical injury to myself and not others, but didn’t stop once I ‘grew up’. My biggest, most expensive mistake, and another that has cost me months of my peace of mind were very recent. If I could go back, and do them differently, I would. I know my intentions were true, but I’ve been judged on my behaviour. Uncomfortable as it is, on reflection, I have chosen not to try to explain further to some people in my life. I know them well enough to think they probably wouldn’t change their perceptions or opinions of me even if they knew all of the facts, so talking would just muddy the waters.
What could have been is just that.