I had to make a difficult decision. It sucked. I made the adult, responsible decision. 24 hours later, I was intensely sorry. Sorry that I made that decision, sure that I made the wrong decision. Of course, if I had made a different choice, who knows if I would not have regretted that choice?
Choices and possibilities are a main theme that we teach our participants. We invite them to think, to assess, and make wiser choices. I know I made a smart choice, but the regret and anxiety that came with the “right choice” was almost too much to bear. This feeling made me think of something a brave student shared in class. He said the second he made the choice that landed him in jail for 30 years, he knew he made the wrong choice. He couldn’t change that choice. From that moment, things happened fast and then he was locked up, alone, drowning in regret.
In my regret, I had the privilege of being surrounded by amazing friends, friends who listened to me, to my irrational and irate rants, friends who supported me, and heard my “should have, could have, would have.” Frankly, my girlfriends are the superheroes of listening.
“I sat alone with my actions and all I could do was get angry,” he told us in class.
“Angry at the world, angry at the police, and plain angry. I was mad at everyone but myself. I spent 10 years being angry, so angry that I got myself in more trouble, got myself more time. I had me so much rage and I didn’t know what to do with it,” he added.
Me, on the other hand, well, I wasn’t blaming anyone for my choice. I just felt like shit.
A wise member of my team observed this and said, “You know, Nomi, in our Listen-Act-Change curriculum, we need to teach participants how to deal with their choices, not just how to make them.” I love this woman to no end, and she is right. Alas, how do we teach to be at peace with something you did and regret or wish you did differently?
“You know, Ms., the chaplain told us that we can’t change what we did but we can change what we do. I decided to make good of my time.”
Seriously, he did just that. He finished and got his high school diploma. He then studied religion online at a community college and got ordained as a chaplain himself.
“I believe, Ms., that God has a plan. Things that happen have a reason.”
I remember smiling when he said this and not saying anything. I am cautious with the “Things happen for a reason” sentence because sometimes I feel like it can be a cop out. But in this case, he was so sincere. “I don’t know if things happen for a reason,” I said. “I do know that things that happen hold lessons for us, really important lessons to remember and grow from.”
“Ms.,” he smiled back at me. “And who do you think is the teacher of those lessons?”
And he pointed up, indicating to God.
A man who was in jail for 30 years because of a split-second choice he made at the age of 15, who is now filled with faith and love, and is totally over his regret.
How do we live with the hard decisions? We live through them. We hurt through them. We learn. We grow. We inhale. We exhale, long and deep.
We sit in the sadness and perhaps the loss, and if we can, we should surround ourselves with love, support, and someone who will hold the regret with and for you.
It’s good to give the burden to someone, even for just a little while.
Most of all, we need to be patient. Peace will come, but it will take as long as it needs to take.
“You know, Ms., for years I was mad. Then I was sad. I tried desperately to fix my decision. I seriously made everyone around me crazy, especially myself. Then God found me. Then I accepted what I did. Ms., then you know what I did? I changed my attitude and I decided to focus on beauty. Because beauty heals the heart.” He smiled at me and the class.
In the crappy shit-ass mood I was in because of the decision I had made, on my way somewhere, I stepped into an elevator. Standing there were three young men, all dressed up, excited and happy.
“Where are you going?” I asked them.
“To his wedding,” they answered in unison and pointed at the taller one.
“Best decision of my life!” the taller one said. The other ones patted him on the back.
“Mazal tov. Enjoy!” I said as they got off. When the elevator doors closed, I started to weep. These young men were so happy, excited, and simply beautiful.
Their beauty touched my heart.
We cannot change decisions we make or turn back time.
We can only look forward and take in the beauty.
There is beauty all around us. We just need to make the decision to see it.
