No Regrets.

We all regret something.

I'm currently regretting the yard work I did Sunday. I unknowingly touched poison ivy causing an allergic reaction. I ended up in an emergency clinic, stabbed by a steroid shot, ingesting steroid pills, and nursing an open wound on my arm that itches and hurts all at the same time. However, I don't regret my motivation because my yard needed help. However, I might hire someone next time. Regret is complicated.  

I'd like to share an additional personal story to help with the "no regrets" concept.

I just returned from a weekend in Chicago with my 13-year-old son. Visiting Chicago for me was daunting because I had to: navigate a big city with rowdy drivers, find our hotel, figure out parking, keep my son safe, go to a Bulls game, and see the city sites while acting like the completely calm mom who has it all together. Everything felt overwhelming but I was motivated by my son's exuberance.

I wanted to be able to leave Chicago and say, “I had no regrets,” about my visit.

My son and I stayed centered on the "no regret" concept as we challenged each other by trying experiences that would push us out of our comfort zones. 

Day one was huge . 

We started walking early- he sipped his chocolate milk, I nursed a cup of delicious illy coffee. We were on the hunt for the Shedd Aquarium. It was a straight north walk next to Lake Michigan. Success! Found it, explored it, and left it. Next, we walked for hours(!) in the rain up Michigan Ave looking for a mall my son was determined to find. Exhausted and wet, we took a break for lunch at Auntie Anne's. (I know, all the way to Chicago for Auntie Anne's but sometimes reminders of home just makes things better.) After the mall, my little tour guide wanted to find the Navy Pier. This included more walking.  Our feet were worn out, but every time we felt like we couldn’t go any further, we rallied each other and found new sights for inspiration. 

“Look Mom- there’s a Starbucks!” 

“No, my feet don’t hurt that bad.” 

“It’s just a few more blocks… well maybe 20… but almost.”

And finally, “I see a sign for the Pier!” 

On cue, the rain stopped, and we walked in sunshine to the end of the Pier. 

On the pier, there is a Ferris wheel.  This isn’t your average "fair" Ferris wheel.  This is a monstrous steel creation made to withstand high winds (Chicago is the "windy city") and lift you to an alarming height just to ensure you can easily view the entire harbor as well as the city. I guess all the skyscrapers weren't doing their job.

It is scary high and I wanted to dodge this event. I know my son was working through his own fear of heights but we knew we had to ride it. We would have regretted leaving Chicago if we didn't check this off the bucket list. Besides, it's just a Ferris wheel...

I felt an unpredicted trigger hit me, and with irritation, I remembered my old self. Eight years ago, that height wouldn’t have hindered me, but trauma changes you and it changed me. Today, adrenaline feels uncomfortable and intolerable.  I knew this Ferris wheel would overload my senses.

But, no regrets.

While we waited in a short line, I asked an employee how many times the Ferris wheel would go around for our ride. (My real question should have been: how long was I going to be trapped in this tomb?)  2 full loops.  Ok.  I felt like I had this.  The cars were completely encased with glass so it would be warm.  It wouldn’t stop while we were going around.  The cars looked solid, so they hopefully wouldn't swing (much) in the wind.  I could do it.  My son reassured himself.  We had it!!

We hopped into our car, number 4, sat down, and feeling full on confidence, watched them close the doors and sat back for a relaxing 8 minutes taking in the sites. 

Except it wasn’t relaxing, calming, or any other peaceful word.

When we started to move, my mind went nuts. We began to lift upward and my stomach fell into my feet.  I watched us going painfully slowly higher and higher.  I was torn- I wanted the ride to hurry up but if it went faster, I was afraid I would throw up.  I wondered if they would stop the wheel if I started screaming my head off.  Except I would still have to get down.  I was in a lose/lose situation.  My apple watch was fluctuating between telling me to breath and encouraging me to be aware of increased anxiety. 

I had to remain in control for my 13-year-old.  I needed him to learn how to handle anxiety, so I started deep breathing.  That didn’t work.  The only solution I could come up with was closing my eyes and visualizing myself on the ground.  When I opened my eyes for a second, I saw his eyes closed too.  Then he opened them, and our eyes met.  We got this.  I started looking out over the city for the rest of our way up and breathed with relief when we started back down.  Now I could prepare for the hard part of going up just one more time. 

No regrets. 

Would I regret not looking at everything I could see during this ride? Yes.

Would I regret not sharing each moment with my son due to my own anxiety?  Yes.

Would I regret not teaching him a small way to move through discomfort positively? Yes.

On the second time up, I kept my eyes open (mostly) and tried to laugh with him. And then we felt the wind. Our car moved with it and creaked.  We decided this was not fun, but it was our last time around, and we wanted to make the best of it. 

Except it wasn’t. 

As we came down to our stopping point, slot number 4, I waited for the car to slow down.  We moved closer and then we went past my safe haven, slot number 4.  I wanted to cry.  We got a bonus round. 

This time the emotions were completely different.  I was frustrated that I had worked so hard to be successful the other 2 times and I closed my eyes on the way up.  I'm not sure who came up with the statement, "the more you do it, the easier it gets." Nope, nope, nope. It wasn't easier. I took the emotionally easy way out, shut my eyes, only opening them when I thought we should be at the top.

My son and I uncomfortably chuckled together as we curved around the top, praying this was our last time. As we came to the bottom, our car did slow down, and we stopped on cue at number 4.  As we exited our car, we knew we had “no regrets.”  We did it and agreed, we did not need to ride it again.

---

As I work with clients exploring their relationships, I see regret everywhere. Some common statements I hear are:

I regret staying so long in the marriage.

I regret not realizing a little yellow flag symbolized a big red alarm.

I regret putting my children through emotional chaos.

I regret not taking better care of myself.

Learning to manage the avoidance of regret is vital to success as you recover from betrayal trauma.

Here’s what you can start with:

If I don’t do “this” today or if I do "this" today, is there something I will look back at and regret? Shifting your focus from the fear of the outcome to faith in your intuition is a powerful way to remove regret. The answer is irrelevant.  Your motivation is what counts. 

Work through your fears with a vision of “no regrets.” And of course, give yourself grace when you have an "UGH!" at the end of the day. We aren't perfect.

"When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us." Alexander Graham Bell.

If you need additional support, groups or resources, please check out www.coachinghope4u.com