It’s difficult to put into words how strange these times are. More than ever I’m faced with my own complacency and privilege, having grown up in an environment that was, for the most part, safe. During lockdown in the UK, poorly-drawn parallels to war-time Britain, weak as they were, accounted for the shock of a society so sheltered from national hardship that it took Boris Johnson months before he’d accept that sacrifices need extend past soap and a sing-song. Struggle belonged to our grandparents. To their eye-opening stories of a daily dread and uncertainty that we could not fathom. To be born a millennial (in the West, at least) was to land in a candy-floss of comfort by comparison.
The trauma still rippling through Western society post-Covid are the where-did-our-safety-go shockwaves of having the steady ground shift violently from under us. A ground which, having only just stabilised, has now re-engaged its turbulence, the cracks of which may prove irreparable.
While we can’t change what is outside of our control, and we hopefully strive to help with whatever is, it is also an opportunity for us to reflect on the core beliefs that underpin our behaviours and motivations. To imagine what might get left on the table, should circumstances change irreversibly. The unsaid. The unexplored. The nagging dissatisfaction of what we might do differently given more time.
People tend not to like the word ‘regret’. It’s become culturally loaded with negativity by those who covet the cachet of #YOLO or, like myself, have muddied the word in their own value system, exclaiming nonsense like, ‘I don’t believe in regrets’, as if the act of reflecting on paths not taken were as ridiculous as a bunny birthing Easter eggs.
In fact, regrets can serve as one of life’s most positive teachers if we tap into them responsibly. They bring awareness to what we deem most important. Our desires and needs. And our relationship with fear.
I reference fear constantly because we give it more power than it deserves. We let it reign terror over our decision making, its army barracked within our unconscious. When fear is a dictator, regrets should become the history books to learn from, not some ugly graffiti we try to paint over.
Fear’s greatest weapon in its arsenal is uncertainty. The instability of change. The powerlessness in the unknown. Fear strikes with one hand and bargains with the other, offering safety under its control (don’t put yourself out there! don’t risk rejection, failure, heartbreak or disappointment). When we give ourselves to fear, we fall for the propaganda that it can shield us from short-term pain, despite leading us toward long-term suffering and/or isolation. We trust in fear, and forget how to trust ourselves.
But our internal struggles are all relative. And when faced with a more serious threat, there’s an inevitable recalibration. A perspective shift. We saw this in the pandemic when droves of people left jobs that made them unhappy, moved somewhere less stressful, or changed their lives entirely in pursuit of a dream they’d labelled ‘future’. Such is the complacency of social comfort. Only when serious threat comes a’knocking do we realise that the time is now.
So, whilst we sadly have little influence over world events, we can use this perspective-prompt to do a stock take of what is within our control. What would we change in our own lives if we could? What is it we really want but are too scared to go after? If time is not a given, how will we maximise the present?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not tolling the bell for the end of the world here. But the very suggestion of anything nuclear calls attention to our ‘maybe one day’ mindset. We shouldn’t need global disruption to appreciate the present moment - none of us know what might be around the corner, so why do we routinely convince ourselves that we do? Putting the future out of our minds. Plodding through life in a waking sleep.
Within my own locus of control, I can further fuel my determination in addressing the issues I wrote about previously. (To end my days afraid of a croissant is just too depressing an epitaph!) But I’m also taking stock of the things I truly want. The ways I wish to live my life. The people I long to have around me. I’m doing a psychological Spring clean to clear out the rubbish and move the ‘maybe one day’ box out of storage and into the present day.
Fear exists in all of us as a natural part of the human condition. But it should co-exist with courage, love, desire, joy and need. Appeasing fear is to become a slave to it, or else suffer an all-out war in the psyche.
And please God, may we all be safe from war. 🙏
The Spin
Regrets are positive tools to be used for personal growth. A regret will only stick around long-term if it speaks to something you really wanted. So although you might have missed that particular bus, you know to make sure you get on the next one!
We take time for granted, and can easily grow complacent with our privilege. When both these things are threatened, it’s a reminder to be in the present and live life to the fullest, whatever that might look like.
Fear exists in our mind as a primally-wired way to keep us safe. It doesn’t deserve the autonomy we often give it over other emotions which serve us much better in the long term.
Adding More Weight
Understanding Regret to Leave it Behind
Are Generation Z Too Cautious?
Does Suffering Make You Stronger?
How Do You Live In The Present?
Book recommendation: The Desire Map, Danielle LaPorte
Option to Go Deeper
Complete the following statements for yourself and reflect on how they might influence your decisions moving forward…
I crave…
Other than time or money, what I want more of is…
I need to give myself more permission to be…
My joy comes from...
Absolutely wonderful. I look forward to INWYT each week. Your words encourage pause to think, they give comfort and you always make me smile. The times indeed feel ominous but after reading The Time Is Now I feel less fearful and my stomach feels less knotted! Thank you Hannah 🙏🏻🤗