Regret, a heavy word. I imagine it carrying its own regrets on its back. Regrets shouldering even more regrets. Regrets on top of each other. New ones carrying older ones, they are smaller in size but are denser, their pain bodies more toxic as they’ve lived longer. My earliest regrets stem from my drug and alcohol abuse. I regret the way I lived my life as a teenage drug addict. I was entirely powerless over my addiction and any associated actions that I took to continue to stay high every waking moment. I stepped all over everyone I knew, didn’t matter if I liked or loved or loathed them. No one was safe from my manipulations. All that I cared about was the next fix and I had no conscience stopping me from doing whatever was necessary to satiate the desire. I regret the pain, worry and grief I caused my family. I regret how I used my body as a sex toy to try and hook a boyfriend. I used my body like a drug. I wanted to find love by having sex, and I didn’t know that wouldn’t work at the time. I was young, I didn’t know. I gave myself away to literally whomever would have me. Thank god I didn’t hang out with people that were too awful. Still, I used myself and gave myself away to try and find love and feel good about myself, boost my confidence. It never once worked. I regret giving myself away piece by piece to all of those guys I fucked from age 16-23. I regret running away to California. I can’t say I really regret cheating on my boyfriend at the time, which was part of the reason I ran away, as it was so long ago. I do regret hurting him and leaving him, just leaving a note and exiting the life and love we had built together. I regret the pain and angst I caused my family, being missing for almost 3 months. I regret all of the things I went through there, all of the experiences. None is worth remembering, none added value to my life. Not one. I regret the pain I caused my mom when she visited me in jail, months after my return from California. I will not forget her body shaking with sobs as we visited, both my body and my mind imprisoned in cells, each one impenetrable. I regret wasting my sober life active in sex and love addiction. I imagine I could have done so much more with my life if sex and love had not been the most important thing to me. Men were my god, my drug, my high, and my low. Therefore, I had no real ambitions. I regret not creating more. I regret cheating on my husband, though this one is tricky. Of course I regret it, but would I wish that it had not happened? No. I’m not sure if that is a true regret, though it is the dictionary definition. I regret the pain I caused. I regret marrying him knowing that I didn’t trust myself to be able to stay married or true to my husband the rest of my life. I did neither. I regret leaving my husband and moving to Korea to be with my ex boyfriend. I do regret the entire Korea experience and the entire relationship. Korea was hell and so was the relationship. I regret relapsing in SLAA a year ago. I feel like I wasted a year of my life and caused a boatload more of deep, deep pain, self-loathing, and self-hatred. I damaged myself on deep levels. I regret the way I’ve been dealing with my up and down moods lately, with no self love and acceptance. At the same time, I do know I am doing my very best. I have called myself forth to show up big this last half of my life. I can no longer shield my eyes or my heart to the truth of who I am and who I am called to be. Awareness cannot be undone. Consciousness is expanding, the universe is evolving as I evolve; I am the universe expanding now. And so are you.