I’ve noticed something about myself lately that I don’t like very much. Recently when something good has happened to someone I know my first thought, right before I congratulate and celebrate my friend or acquaintance’s good fortune, is a brief flash of “why couldn’t it have been me”. It may only last a second, but it is there, and I don’t like it.

I do believe that there is enough good to go around in the world. Even though it doesn’t always feel that way to me, I know that I’ve had my share of good and fortune in my life. I also firmly believe that there is more to come. Still, even though I genuinely want to celebrate the good fortune of others, I sometimes find myself feeling a bit resentful. When is my good fortune going to come, I wonder. When is it going to be my turn?

I dislike this part of myself, this cramped old miser who sits and spews bile on everyone else’s happiness and luck. Even though she only surfaces for a second and I am able to genuinely happy over someone else’s good fortune, I still feel as though the miser me spoils the whole thing. I want to be happy with my whole heart and not rent any part of it out to jealousy and envy. Sadly, I haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet.

I do know that part of the issue right now is the fact that I feel like I’ve put in a lot of time and I’m not getting anywhere. I had certain goals in mind and I think I’ve done all the things I need to do to be on the right path to achieving those goals, but nothing seems to be happening. When someone else achieves something I’ve been wanting, there’s that little twinge of “hey, wait a minute, that should have been me”. Even though I try to shut it out, that little voice is there, poisoning my thoughts with envy.

They say that the first step toward fixing a problem is acknowledging that there is a problem. This is a thought process I don’t like and one I don’t have to maintain. I refuse to be one of those people who begrudges other people happiness and good fortune.

I’ve made up my mind that, from now one, I won’t be.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.  I’ve pushed people away that I should have kept close and kept people close that I should have pushed away.  I’ve made some bad judgments out of fear and missed some opportunities through inertia.  I know this, and I accept it.  The past is the past and I can’t go back and do anything differently, no matter how much I might like to do so.

As much as I acknowledge the things that I’ve done that have contributed to some of the situations in my life, I sometimes feel like too much of the blame has been apportioned to me.  It seems easier for some of my family and friends to decide that the responsibility for whatever problem lies with me, and so does the responsibility for making things right.  I sometimes feel like there’s a scorecard somewhere, and there are people who are keeping track of how and where I make amends.  I’m not fond of that feeling.

The hard reality is that any problem always has two sides.  I may have made mistakes and bad choices, but the people I was dealing with did the same thing.  It is hard for me to try and patch up those relationships when I feel like I’m the only one who’s admitting any fault.  I’d at least like some acknowledgement that I wasn’t always treated as well or with as much consideration as I should have been.  That would go a long way toward clearing the air.

I guess, in the end, settling for more requires deciding which of these relationships are worth saving and how much I want to do, and how much blame I want to accept, in order to save the relationship.  In some cases I’m not sure about that yet, but I’m working on it.  One thing I do know is that I’m ready to acknowledge where I went wrong, but I’m not willing to accept that everything was all my fault.  Those days are over.

Lately I’ve spent a lot of time saying the following phrase “It could have been worse”.  I say it in regards to my recent hospitalization.  I say it about the bills I’m paying as a result of that hospitalization.  I say it when speaking about the new diet and exercise program I’m starting, and the stress I’ve been under, and really, at this point, most of my life.   It has become kind of a mantra.

Now, mind you, I really mean that things could have been worse when I say my new mantra.  I realize the consequences of my heart problems could have been far more disastrous.  I realize that my insurance could have paid far less of the bills from my hospitalization.  I realize that learning to eat differently and exercise more is not the end of the world as I know it, and that life will continue even if I never eat another Idaho pizza or a plate of nachos.   I do know I’m fortunate and I’m grateful for that fortune.  

The problem is, I’m also a bit angry.  For every “It could have been worse” there’s a little voice inside of me that’s saying “It could have been better” too.  I could have taken better care of myself and perhaps not ended up in the hospital.  I could have lost weight and gotten in shape far earlier than this.  I could have avoided having to spend money I really don’t have to pay bills I really don’t want to pay.  If I’d treated myself better and acted like an intelligent human being, I might have avoided a lot of what is happening now. 

They say hindsight is 20/20, and I suppose they’re right.  My problem is that I keep trying to look on the bright side while simultaneously realizing that I created the dark side myself.  Things could have been better had I done what I knew should have been done.  The hard fact is I didn’t and I’m mad at myself because of that fact.  If I’d treated myself like I mattered, a lot of this might not have happened.  Or maybe everything would have gone down exactly the same, there’s really no way to know. 

I guess, in the end, we all have to do the best we can where we are at that time.  One thing my recent experiences have taught me is that I need to like myself more, and treat myself with more respect.  That means eating right, exercising, listening to the signals that my body gives me when it is unwell, and dealing with those signals instead of ignoring them.  Yes, things could have been worse, but they also could have been better.

Next time, if it is in my power, they will be.

I’ve often wished I had a crystal ball or some sort of precognitive vision.  At the very least, it would have been nice to have someone at certain points in my life who would have stopped me from taking a certain path or steered me toward a different one.  I know we can only make decisions with the information that is available at the time,  but it is still seductive to think about what we might have done had we known more.  Alas, we never do.

I sometimes feel guilty for the opportunities I let pass, or for the times when I knew that something wasn’t right or wouldn’t suit me and still did it anyway.  For example, I knew the man who molested me would do so long before anything happened.  I look back now and see there was no way that the poor messed up girl back then could have stopped it from happening.  Still, I wonder how my life would have differed if she had.  I’ve had lots of those sorts of experiences in my life, and I always wonder, if I’d turned right instead of left, at least figuratively, would I be in a different place now?

There are always “what ifs” in life.  What if I had pushed hard to go to the Arts Academy when it was suggested I go.  Would I be a famous novelist now?  Why did I leave a steady, if not terribly lucrative or interesting job to take a job I knew almost from the beginning wasn’t right for me.  If I’d held out for the job I wanted would I be further ahead now?  What if I had listened to the voice inside me that said I was more than everyone was telling me I was.  Would I have discovered settling for more and happiness years ago?

Once, while trying to understand how I had gotten to where I was at that point, I joined a support group.  My membership in the group was not a success, for two main reasons.  One was that it generally became a competition with the prize going to the person who could tell the worst story of the harm done to them.  The second reason was that the group seemed dedicated to wishing things had been different, as thought the very act of wishing would change the past.  The hard truth is that you can wish all you like, but the past is the past, and no amount of wishing will make it be anything but what it is. 

If I did have a magic wand, or some mythic power, there are certainly things I would change about my past.  There are decisions I would unmake, and events I would cause to happen differently.  I suppose most of us, given the chance, would do that.  We aren’t going to be given that chance though and, like it or not, the past has made us what we are today.  I guess, for me, the best way to redeem the past is to try to build a better future.  I also try to give the past meaning by telling others what I know.  Not everyone has to go into the wasteland.  Some people can go and bring back stories, which will teach others,  who will then be able to escape the pain and anguish of the trek.  My past has made me stronger, and while I’d give up some of that strength if it would allow me to forget some of the things that I know, my past has also created the person I am today.  

Most days I like that person.

And, because I like that person, I’m making my peace with the past.