Je ne regrette rien...
Regret
is something we are all familiar with in some shape or form. Whether it was having
the second chocolate (or third, or fourth) as you cozied up in front of Netflix
last night or whether you are reflecting on the big life decisions you have made
in the past perhaps wishing you had done things differently; regardless of the
situation or circumstances, it is
probably safe to say that we have all at some time or other regretted some or
all of our drinking days.
For
me, regret surfaced during the early days of my newly found sobriety. It wasn’t
easy to look back and see with the benefit of a clear head all the time I had
wasted. Particularly all those moments with my son that I had bulldozed through
– pressing fast forward as I read to him at bedtime, rushing through afternoons
with him to get to the holy grail of wine. Regret for me mostly centred around
lost time with my family but it also extended to different times in my life when
I was too afraid to take a risk, too fearful to take that leap, and remained
safely on the sidelines of my own existence knowing that if all failed, I still
had alcohol. Unfortunately, alcohol also had me, in a vice grip so strong that
it would take years and years before I was finally strong enough to end our
abusive and chaotic relationship.
Last
Friday I celebrated fifty-four years of being in this world. As I packed a suitcase
to go on a rare night away with my husband, I reflected on this being my third
sober birthday, but I also reflected on what had got me this far and made me
the woman I am today. It is not the recent work of getting sober that has made
me the person I am. Neither has the end result been dictated by a set of genes
or a particular family blood line. Who I am is the sum total of all my lived
experiences - drunk and sober, happy and sad, cloudy and sunny. Every single
moment has brought me to where I am now and therefore how can I regret any of
it? There is an overwhelming sense of gratitude because I would simply not be
the woman I am today if all the bad stuff hadn’t happened. And I don’t want to
be anyone other than who I am at this precise moment as I sit here in a messy
bedroom on an October afternoon typing these words in my pyjamas. (Of course I
wouldn’t say no to toned arms and less wrinkles, but I am human).
French
singer Édith Piaf sang the famous song Je ne regrette rien. It is a beautiful song
that celebrates embracing past experiences without remorse. Non, je ne regrette rien/Ni le bien qu’on m’a fait/ translates to No, I do not
regret anything/Neither the good people have done to me/Nor the bad, it’s all
the same to me. Sadly, Édith Piaf lost her battle with addiction to alcohol and
morphine at the age of 47. As I listen to her sing, her beautiful voice soaring
and swelling, I hear the defiance and the strength in her.
In a world where we are
often running on a treadmill of could haves or should haves, je ne regrette
rien can serve both as a powerful reminder and a mantra to propel us forward
into the future with our gaze firmly fixed on what lies ahead rather than
looking backwards. It gives us the chance to create new and different ways of
being in this brave new sober world.
Grá & Solas
Claire
Xx
Photo of Édith Piaf from www.creativecommons.com
