I have regrets, many regrets. Except for eating that cookie, I never have regrets about eating a cookie.
But for some reason, I don’t feel I can be held responsible for the actions that cause my regrets. My BPD tends to take over and make very impulsive decisions for me, while all the while, there’s this little voice inside me screaming: don’t do it!
OK, that’s not entirely true, I do take responsibility for my actions, but I just wish my inner voice was louder once in a while. I gotta be honest, I’m a quitter. I’m not embarrassed to admit it. I quit school, I quit jobs, and I quit people. I quit myself on many an occasion.
My biggest regret is quitting London. My whole life I wanted to be an actress. First, a famous one in Hollywood, then just an actress, nothing more. I didn’t care if I had to take on crappy jobs to support myself, I was gonna do it. And I did. I went to London at 19. Got into drama
school, a dream come true. And it truly was. I had an amazing time when I was there. Met some wonderful people, learnt so many things, and perfected my British accent. I was so proud of myself for taking on this adventure. Living in London in the nineties was awesome. Britpop ruled, fashion was … interesting to say the least, I discovered Archers and lemonade.
But after a year, the money ran out. And yes, I have to admit, as luck would have it, I’d met a boy back in Belgium during school break. So, instead of staying (as I had planned all along) and getting a job there while going for my acting career, I decided to come home.
What a mistake. I told myself I would go back one day. I did, every year, for a visit. But I never moved back. I wanted to, for so long, but it was never the right time. I realise now that London isn’t the same place it was 19 years ago. And it never will be, because I’m not that same person. And I take my peace with it.
We live and learn from our mistakes. And then we make some more.