I'm Trying Not to Regret the Little Things, But it's Difficult When I'msuch a T**t.

Ever have one of those moments that you wish you could take back?

Not the big moments we all regret but the little seemingly insignificant ones.

And I'm not even talking about those moments when you should have reached in for that kiss - it took me about 9 hours of talking all night and drinking cheap white wine to kiss my now husband - or the moments you shouldn't have, like when it was my boyfriend's friend. 

I'm talking about the ones that stay in your brain and crop up all the time, even though you know you're being silly. Those times you made a bit of a tit of yourself and just wish you could take back.

I used to be an avid over thinker. I would go over all the conversations and social situations I had been in over the previous few days, cross examine them intensively and often found a excuse to wish for a rewind button. These days I try to be a little easier on myself. Mostly I think people are too wrapped up in their own lives to over think me and the silly things I do, in the same way I never notice anyone else's strange behaviour and wonder if they wish they had a re-do option. Training myself to stop over thinking has been one of my biggest challenges but I'm getting there.

But there are some moments that just won't go the hell away.

When I was quite new as a Mummy and showering was done in a rush, there was one time when I found what I first thought to be cream cheese in my ears. Unfortunately, when I found it I was in the company of someone I don't know particularly well but someone who was important to my Mother's life in a business sense. Sleep deprived, my thoughts were spoken aloud as I wondered how the hell my little boy had managed to get cheese in both my ears. We hadn't eaten any in a few days at least.

I later of course discovered that while showering (in our freshly installed shower after being so used to having a bath for my daily cleanse) I was washing my face scrub into my ears, where those little dishes collected it and it remained all day until my next shower, where I added more.

These days rinse my ears thoroughly, probably too thoroughly, but the memory pops into my head every single time. I pine for a chance to take it back, to explain, it wasn't that I was filthy, quite the opposite. But it'll never happen.

This one doesn't crop up very often. Thankfully my memory is so bad I don't remember even 10% of the stupid things I've done but still, it's there in the back of my mind.

We haven't been on holiday in a few years which is probably just as we'll because last time we went, while getting dressed fresh from the sea, caught up in a moment of beach dudette-ness, feeling rather free spirited, as I dried the salt water from my body and shoved my clothes on under my towel, I accidentally showed my lady garden to my little sister's boyfriend. If I could have contained myself a little better, it wouldn't have happened.

There's obviously no way round some of the stupid stuff I've done, I just have to let it go. Put it down to experience and try to keep my damn mouth shut in future, or at least invest in a bigger towel.

It's funny because I do not regret the bigger stuff. 

There is a vague niggle of regret for not finishing my degree in London when I was at a truly prestigious university, but had I not moved and finished it elsewhere, I would not have met, and consequently married, my soul mate. 

All of my decisions, however good or bad, all led me to where I am, who I am now.

Yesterday, very aptly, while reading the work of a friend I came across a poem which really struck a chord. I'm certain he won't mind me sharing it with you here. Bare with me, it's long and won't be to everyone's taste (contains swear words, drug use & mentions sex), but give it a go.

A Three-Part Harmony in a Deep Sleep.

By Christopher P.P. White.

Smoking on the tenth floor

Of ten-story car parks

With a joint that wilts

Like a dying rose;

Grasping onto sanity

Whilst the walls

Covered in graffiti

Spin like a laundromat's innards.

My feet pointing upright,

The smell of a strangers urine in my nostrils,

The flickering spotlights flicker

In time to my tune-

A normal Friday night, I say,

As I drift off to a slumbered state.

Drinking the contents

Of acquaintances' fridges

At house parties and runaway homes.

Bottles of cheap beer and corner shop wine

Flood my lungs

And their voodoo curse

Attacks my lucidity with force;

I end up on the railings

Of a Jehovah's Church,

Under the new day's watch

With the help of police officers

And the responsibilities that the law provides.

I've slurred in front of the cops

Far too many times.

Not a day goes by

That I don't miss the drugs,

The booze, the recklessness,

The deep conversations under

A cloud of smoke,

The all nighters in pool halls,

The excitement of attraction,

The laughing fits,

The music--

THE FUCKING MUSIC!

The falling asleep to indie films,

The bubbling euphoria of being young

And being alive and wanting

To wake up and live the whirlwind

All...over...again.

I miss it.

Who wouldn't?

I would live through that beautiful mess

Every day for the rest of my life

If I could.

I'd rather have those times than

Gaze upon a sandy beach,

A fuck with no repercussions,

A guzzle of a £200 bottle of red wine,

A substantial win on the lottery,

A day in space,

A week abroad,

A meal cooked in a Parisian restaurant,

A second shot at being a kid again,

A striptease,

A new book of poems,

A look through old photos,

A freshly rolled cigarette,

A dance to a great song,

A first breath in an intrepid breeze,

A world without Jazz,

A time without war...

I would live through the intoxicated youth again,

The failed relationships,

The sleepless nights,

The self-loathing after a bender,

The lonely beds,

The tears,

the abuse,

The pain,

Anger,

Sorrow,

I would live through my years as a failure

And make all of those bad mistakes again,

Because it led me to you.

The book, his second collection of poetry, is available here.

Comment below and tell me an embarrassing story that makes you wish you had a 'do-over'. 

Complete with gruesome details please. 

I need you to make me feel better about showing my muff to a boy half my age.

Love to you all xxx