Regret

Today's truth considers regret. What would I do if my best friend was in a car accident and ended up in the hospital after we had argued several hours before?

First, I am adopted, so clearly I would believe the accident was my fault. I would run to get the cat-o'-ninetails out of the closet and begin self-flagellation before driving to the hospital to sit by my friend's bedside. I would beg forgiveness for whatever bullshit reason we'd fought earlier, even if it wasn't my fault. Because I am adopted, the accident obviously means my friend is abandoning me, and I'd better shape up or my friend will die.

Seriously, I would (probably) still think the accident was my fault. I would absolutely rush to the hospital and try to be with my friend. If he or she refused to see me, I'd sit there and wait. And wait. And wait. I would pray to whatever God seemed most likely to listen at that moment. I would light a candle in the nearest Catholic church. I would remind myself that friendship is incredibly important, more important than (most) ridiculous arguments. I would ask myself if I had been an unreasonably arrogant, hard-headed Taurus earlier on in said blasted argument. I would analyze the exchange with a magnifying glass or a loupe, taking on the blame for most of it. It's really my fault, you know? Isn't it always?

Wait. Both the two situations I've described are the same. Yeah, I'm adopted. Did I mention that? Everything is my fault. Just kidding. Sort of.

I believe that adoption (for *some* adoptees, not *all*, please don't jump all over me) makes people more sensitive to discord in relationships. Things happened to us--things beyond our control--when we were babies. These things affected us profoundly. Why would these random associations stop, just because rationally they don't make sense?

Joking aside, this moral quandary is about the nature of regret. Can we say that we can live with what we've done? Have we done the best we can for ourselves and others, such that if something horrible happens to a loved one, we know that they died certain that we loved them? Was anything left unsaid: apologies, secrets, words of endearment?

I try not to have regrets. This is easier said than done, of course, but still very important. Can I look in the mirror and be satisfied, if not proud, of how I have treated others?

Having just watched the 2009 film adaptation of Dorian Gray, this mismatch between body and soul strikes a chord. A person may look beautiful on the outside, but his soul may be sullied by terrible deeds, committed with willing mind and malicious intent. I don't want to be that person. I want to feel that not only can I be redeemed, I don't walk down iniquitous paths that require redemption so much in the first place. I have to live in my skin.

P.S. If any of my friends got into an argument with me, they'd damn well better show up at the hospital after my car accident. ;-) A huge thanks to my friend N who didn't fight with me but nonetheless came and sat with me in the ED--for hours--when I had my PEs several weeks ago. She is a friend I don't deserve, but whom I love with all my heart.