Monday, March 10, 2014

Getting to that halfway point

Things will be harder...

I think I've finally come to terms with this feeling. I think this is what they call "Regret."

According to Wikipedia, 

"Regret is a negative conscious and emotional reaction to personal past acts and behaviors. Regret is often expressed by the term "sorry." Regret is often a feeling of sadnessshameembarrassmentdepressionannoyance, or guilt, after one acts in a manner and later wishes not to have done so. Regret is distinct from guilt, which is a deeply emotional form of regret — one which may be difficult to comprehend in an objective or conceptual way. In this regard, the concept of regret is subordinate to guilt in terms of its emotional intensity. By comparison, shame typically refers to the social (rather than personal) aspect of guilt or (in minor context) regret as imposed by the society or culture (enforcement of ethicsmorality), which has substantial bearing in matters of (personal and social) honor."


I am well aware of this textbook definition of the word but nothing could have prepared me for the abyss of emotions unleashed when you come to accept that this dwells within you. 

I guess it comes in different forms but for me, regret comes in the form of uncontrollable sighs, daydreams and a dark nostalgia of emotions that attack me during random times. 

It could be a condition, or at least I'm hoping it is. If it were, then there should be something prescribed to deal with it somewhere. Although, I've still yet to find it. 

If I would relay the events that would lead me to this conclusion, it would be as follows: 

The first time was when I went home. I haven't been home for a while. At home, when I prepare for bed, I would usually leave my Itunes playing everything. This usually calms me down 'til I fall asleep. However, as I prepared to embark S.S. Dreamland, a familiar song played. 

"It's time to relive all the memories
Catch every day in a frame

Sing with me
Na na na na na...
Let us go back in time
Just for a minute to 69
Come sing along with me
Na na na na na...
Let us go back again
We're praying this time it will never end
Come sing along with me"

What this song meant to him was beyond what I could comprehend. But this song, to me, represent the scent of his room, the sofa bed where we would lie talking, the wooden floor with creeking floorboards and how we would make a thumping sound when we would fall laughing about all the random things. 

I was dreaming but my eyes were wide open. It's such a gentle dream but the emotions it invoked were of a raging storm....In the end, I was unable to sleep. I felt robbed of a good rest but I had no one to blame. 

There was another time when I was on a bus, sitting by the window. It was a short trip but it felt longer. I knew I was riding on a bus but it felt like I was riding in tandem on a bike. I would look around and see the traffic lights, the pedestrians, and the buildings from that perspective. The only difference was, there was no smoke, no noise, and I wasn't holding onto him. I'd be frustrated when the bus won't move and throttle at the green lights as he did. I felt upset, and again, I felt robbed of a good opportunity to appreciate the scenery but I had no one to blame.

There was another time when I went to Eastwood. This was when my sister was in the hospital and I took time off work to watch over her. I got a chance to go to Eastwood, to her office, to pick up some documents for the hospital while her friend agreed to watch her while I was gone. The place was still a marvel to me. There were so many new places and the area looked busier than ever.

It was here where we used to spend time together. And just like that, vivid images of those memories started to manifest themselves in the form of daydreams. My mom, who was with me at that time, would often shake me out of it as I would stop and stare at the benches where we sat, places where we ate at, and spots where we would stop and talk. I didn't understand why all these good memories seem to elicit and stir unwanted emotions inside me. I felt robbed of a good time but I had no one to blame. 

Image from Dataentry

Another time, this was when a few co-workers and I were eating breakfast at a local french restaurant. We were punting each other with jokes when one of them mentioned something that made me remember him. I could not, for the life of me, recall what it was, but what lingered was an unwelcome feeling of longing to share the meal with him. I remember when we would often eat out, we would order the best meals to make the most out of the experience. We would explore new food places and post pictures online. The memory sank in and I felt sad. I felt robbed of a good meal but I had no one to blame. 

And the last one that I could relay and remember, It was late and I was on my way to work. Then the sky suddenly decided it was a good prank to 'til the basin and pour water in the ill infested world below it. I was unlucky enough to leave my small umbrella inside my locker at work, and my spare at home. I would have gone back to get it but I thought it would be nice to feel the rain every once in a while.

I hate rain. I hate how it creates dirty puddles on the ground. I hate how it makes the ground smell pungent and I hate how people seem to multiply under it. I hate every part of it. 

As I made my way to the closest block to the where I could ride, I felt the water trickle down my nape and down to my back. It was a sensation I felt before and a feeling I know better than others. That single drop that escapes when we would ride home on his bike on a rainy night. I would hold tight around his body while he breezed through the wall of dripping water in front of us. 

I felt robbed... but here is where I understood why. Here is where I finally came to understand why all these memories were giving me such pain. It was hard to accept at first since this wasn't me. I was never one to look back cause I believe that the past is just there to learn from and holding on to it will keep you from moving forward. 

It was regret.

These memories were beautiful; every single one of them. It was a puzzle to me at first but I came to understand that it wasn't these memories alone that is making me feel this way but how they were wasted because of my indecisiveness and my habit of letting things go so easily. 

There are tons of what if's and Why's in my head. And it's overwhelming that I can answer not a single one of them. I never thought, out of all the things I learned and experienced that I would come to this point. I used to pride myself that I am someone who never lets the past hold me down. 

I guess, this was to prove, that I was wrong. 

This is just the first step. Realizing the problem and rationalizing the cause. There are still more steps to get to the halfway point where my aim is to rid myself of this feeling and move forward. 

I need to find a cure. 

All I need to do is to find a cure that would work for me. 

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