There are few things I regret.
I regret being discovered hiding in a closet after I started seeing my ex-boyfriend’s roommate.
I regret sleeping through my friend’s talent show which I had promised to co-emcee.
I regret being exceptionally cruel to a boy in my third grade class.
Strangely enough, I mentioned that boy’s name in my blog several months ago and he found me last week. This was his eloquent email to me:
I was quite startled to find my name in your blog. I was amazed because while teasing me in third grade is one of your regrets, I couldn’t remember you at all. I haven’t forgotten the teasing, mind you, however I hadn’t thought about it in decades.
I pored through your blog compulsively trying to figure out who you are.
Finding your name helped my recollections somewhat, and I vaguely remember you now.
I decided to write because, it would be hard for me to know that this still bothered you at some level, while I put it behind me a long time ago. If you will take my forgiveness, I offer it.
All the best,
This, and I couldn’t remember how or where I had posted about him. The search engine on my blog couldn’t find him, so I tried Google. To my horror, my post about him (in a comment to my “100 Things About Me”) was the first hit that came up.
With sincere relief that my actions hadn’t irreparably damaged him emotionally, I took the opportunity to write him a sincere apology. Also, I offered to take his name off my blog. (And asked permission to post about it in the next breath!) We corresponded briefly after that, and he thanked me for my apology.
I consider myself lucky; how often are we given the opportunity correct actions that are thirty years old? That is one less stone I will be carrying around in my conscience.
It is interesting to me that all my regrets have to do with disappointing people – myself included.