I’ve done a lot of things in the past that I regret. However, to say that I regret them and what I would have done instead doesn’t change anything, so I don’t really say that I have actual regrets. The things I’ve done, and the things that happened instead, came with different outcomes that I never would have even been able to discover. Georgie talked about a parallel universe in which different things would have happened in her life had she chosen a different path instead, and it made me think a lot about what I have done, been through and said that could have changed drastically had I done one tiny thing differently.
I’m not saying that I believe everything happens for a reason, because I don’t believe that. I stopped believing that last year when I was officially diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Post-traumatic Stress Disorder1, because what could possibly be the reason behind the existence of mental illness? That’s like telling a cancer patient there’s a reason they got cancer, and then basing it on their past. I’ve had people tell me my current mental health state is the result of karma biting my ass because I was a bad kid growing up or something. It takes a lot of strength to go against believing that such is true, and a large part of me hopes karma will soon find you.
I’ve made a mess on Twitter multiple times, posted some things I’m not proud of, absentmindedly insulted people (sometimes fellow bloggers), acted like I was better than people because I was slightly more experienced… I’ve done a lot of things that I almost wish I had not, but I’ve realized them a while after, and I have learned from it. My mind oftentimes dwells on those events, and I start to over think them like I over think practically everything else.
I’m told by people who hear my story that they wish they could have rescued me so I didn’t have to go through so much. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do believe that some things happen for a reason. While I don’t believe that people abuse children/others/animals for any valuable reason at all, I believe that I was abused for a reason; I believe that maybe it’s my place to reach out to the world using my computer and Internet skills to help make it louder… Abuse isn’t loud. People tell me all the time that I’m not supposed to talk about it. Abuse isn’t a curse word, and it’s not taboo. It’s really happening. Why not put abuse on the news instead of cute puppy pictures sent in by watchers? Why not worry about abuse rather than testing dog poo for DNA that could be related to some random dog in the end?2
I never said I was proud of some of the things I’ve done. However, the things I’ve said (and possibly done?) to lard and my mom I’m neither proud nor not proud of; I feel indifferent toward those things.
When it comes down to the conclusion of what I wish to do about things I’ve done on Twitter and/or my blogs, it’s simple: I’m quite tired of deleting everything and starting over. My Twitter account stays. Perhaps one day I’ll stop being so lazy and delete certain tweets, but the things I’ve done and the people I’ve pissed off won’t give different aftermaths merely because I erased the proof. I think this can work where proof isn’t a physical structure as well. I’ve pissed a lot of people off offline, embarrassed myself online, and I have allowed my mom and lard make me out to be a compulsive liar.
All I can do is take what I have done and try to make myself a better person thenceforth.