I bumped into one of my neighbours earlier this year who told me something quite moving. His dying fatherís last words were, ďIíve had a full life, some of which Iíve loved, and some of which Iíve not. But you know what... I have no regretsĒ. What a way to leave the world.
I have a few wonderful things in my life... my girlfriend, son and I live in a beautiful country. That said, my life has been absolutely packed with heartache, personal-failure and regret. I generally donít get on well with a lot of people, and find it hard to strike up new friends. I trust absolutely no one, including myself.
Although I have laughed and had some good moments, happiness (if there is such a thing) for me hasnít occurred in my life. I generally think happiness it is a state which is not consistent with reality Ė certainly from my lifeís experience anyway. I often look back on days gone by and only see nothing but negativity and the bad times. I donít profess to be the victim of circumstance by any stretch of the imagination, and therefore itís fair to say that I have a significant sense of blame; and justifiably so.
My regrets run deep. I am constantly reminded of the bad things- the way Iíve treated people, the things Iíve said, done, or even not said or done. For example, by virtue of a bizarre set of circumstances, I recently learned that my son has disclosed to someone, private matters that I would have preferred to have remained private. This has dealt a significant blow to me in relation to some of those dark places I have tried to put behind me. As much as I try, they keep springing back.
To make things worse, last year I had a serious heart attack. Since I am only 43, and not considered to be in any of the high risk groups, the medical reasons for this issue have yet to be understood. The only thing left as a viable explanation is the silent killer, stress. Every day I wake up, Iím just glad to be here. Iím constantly in the frame of mind that since this condition is a matter of vascular integrity, that I am a time-bomb, and could drop dead at any second.
To whom ever reads this, it is important to understand that this is really just an insignificant scratch on the festering chasm which lies beneath. Iíve sought professional services of a psychologist, which didnít work for me. I am highly inwardly analytical, and really believe I am the only one who can even come close helping myself. I feel that I am alone in a framework of calamity from which there is no escape.
This is not intended to be a cry for help or attention. I donít really know where Iím going with this message, or even if it warrants a response. For some reason I just felt compelled to write these words. If for no other reason, I just hope it helps someone, somewhere, understand that if they have similar issues to myself, that they are not alone.