Ghosts

I've never been one for regrets. I'm generally incredibly direct with people and very decisive. That being said I think every one at some point in their lives has a ghost. Not necessarily a person they've left behind, but maybe a decision they made that they replay for themselves. Wondering “what if” once or twice is normal, but being plagued by graphic memories of where you may have gone wrong, that's a haunting.

Despite my best efforts I have a ghost. In fairness I signed up for this one. I made huge, life changing, permanent decisions knowing I would, no matter how happy I was, carry them with me forever. Sorry, for the melodrama, but think of this post as an homage to my old cryptic, emotional blogs before motherhood.

I am sad and haunted, but not sorry. I did what had to be done. What I am haunted by are the powerful emotions that went with that choice and the things I will never have the opportunity to say. In the scheme of things my motivations are irrelevant, but I wish that I had been more clear. If I could do it all again I would have made myself heard one last time.

So after all this time of carrying around these feelings and memories I feel so swollen with them I could burst. Some vulnerability I hadn't counted on let the ghost right in. It's made itself comfortable and I can't escape it. It is everywhere pressing on old wounds so that the pain feels entirely fresh.

I would exercise this ghost somehow, but if I'm being honest a part of me enjoys its company. A wash in not all together painful memories I'm comforted that I still remember after all this time. I also shudder at the notion that they will be this strong forever.

My phantom brings images to my mind, pictures to hand, songs to my ears and feelings to heart that make me weak remembering. I comfort myself by convincing myself that I am only now ready to have closure with all that was and my ghost is bidding farewell in grand style.

Whatever the reason the apparition has come I'm making room for it now. In my rational brain I keep demanding the lesson I am supposed to being learning or the action I'm supposed to take to end this. Sometimes we can't simply admit our unfinished business to ourselves.