Today’s prompt is to write about your biggest regret, which is an easy one for me.

I try to live my life without regrets. By that, I don’t mean the cliche meaning of “I’ll do what I want, when I want, where I want and never regret anything ever,” but more that I don’t see the use of feeling regret. Bad things happen. I have made and will make bad decisions that will effect my life. I will have to live with the consequences of those decisions. Regretting that I made those decisions will add nothing to my learning from my decisions; it will only make my present and future more difficult because of the negativity it brings.

That being said, there is one thing that I regretĀ notĀ doing, because it would make my life today that much more positive.

I regret not telling my parents that I was experiencing anxiety.

Now, my situation was a little unique because I wasn’t even aware that I was experiencing anxiety. When I had an anxiety attack (or an attack of flashbacks), it was over so quickly, I wouldn’t understand what just happened. So, instead of going to a trusted adult to talk about it, I just soldiered through it on my own.

I never showed any signs of anxiety or depression growing up. No one was aware that I had these attacks. I didn’t know that I could assign a name to them.

All in all, that’s a really sh*tty situation for an adolescent to be put in. It wasn’t until I was in college that I actually talked to friends about it, and it wasn’t until grad school that I started seeking professional help. Now I just wish that I had the thought to talk to my parents about it way back when the attacks started in middle school, because I know that they would have found the help I needed.

However, regret doesn’t really help me now, as I said before. So, I’ll just have to put up with the help provided to me by my friends and family now as I try to sort out my anxiety.