This applies to things as small buying the silly item that caught my eye to the big things like saying "I love you" even when it's scary, overdue or the opposite thing your temper really wants to spit out.
Sometimes I'll hesitate, allow myself to sit with whatever it is for a minute or day or two and then straighten my posture and go for it...whatever "it" may be. Occasionally it's easy, most times it takes some real zest to leap into it.
For example, when I first started free diving with Bobby everything in the tropical waters were new to me. My long list of "firsts" included my first time swimming several football fields out into the turquoise ocean. The first time my lungs took me diving 20+ feet below the surface. My first time seeing a nurse shark and my first time swimming with a sea turtle. All of these sound super cool, right? Yeah, well let's flip the coin to the other side, like when I was having a full blown panic attack as the jellyfish were so plentiful there was no way to avoid them. None. They were everywhere, only inches apart from each other for as long as my eyes could see. Insert "Motto No Regrets" here please.
Let me walk you through what this really looked like...
I'm chest deep, still able to stand and I'm frozen with panic. My breathing is quick, really quick, and the color in my cheeks is gone. Bobby is coaching me along, he's really great like that. My fins are on. My mask is on and fogging up because I'm hyperventilating which also means my mouthpiece couldn't possibly be in my mouth, again, because I'm hyperventilating. I'm surrounded by these fat, light pink and lilac colored jelly fish. They are everywhere and they are huge. I'm being stung. My mind is whizzing in a million directions. I can see how close I am to the shoreline but I can't allow myself to move through this mess and mass of jellyfish. Then it dawns on me. Bobby isn't wearing a rash guard. He's in the same mess I'm in. I'm certain he's being stung to bits too, however, he's fine. How is he fine? He still wants to swim out and dive? I tell myself he's clearly insane. At this point I'm just staring at him. And then it happened....my "stop being a pussy, Tara" pep talk. If he can do it, I can do it too.
And so I did.
Now, don't get me wrong. I was stung more times than I care to say that day and spent more time diving below to the ocean floor than usual to avoid those slimy suckers. However, I also completed our dive and made it back to the beach knowing that I was proud of myself for doing it because now I know. Rather than wondering if I could have or what would have been....I knew. And frankly, it was worth it because when there are jellyfish there are sea turtles.
Now, let's get back to the "living with no regrets" part of this. I can't say I live with "no" regrets. Truth is, I have more regrets than my heart can hold. I regret not having more confidence and self respect as a teenager. I regret missing too many of my brother's football games when they were young. I regret the times I ignored my gut instinct. I regret any holiday I didn't spend with my family while it was whole. I regret not giving my dad a hug when he needed it most in his life and I regret not taking my mum in my arms and telling her it's all ok, all of it, and that I loved her before she left us.
So, you see, those regrets are so heavy I can't allow for many more. My regret cup is full, so full it's spilling over. Now, out of necessity (and experience) I coach myself on choosing the "no regret" route as often as possible.
That means I tend to swan dive into things. Some awesome things. Some less than awesome things. But all "no regret" things.
Insider tip: The route marked "no regrets" has amazing sights to be seen. Five star rating. I promise it's worth it if you decide to leap.
Tara Mazzeo Jackson
Co-Founder of Storytellers: The Collective,
Curator for Bohemian Living, Owner/Artist of Bungalow Wilde
and Blogger at Bits & Pieces.
Tara is a lover of yoga, bleeder of words and a bohemian city-kid who has a knack for rescuing stray animals.
She has a mean case of wanderlust and you’d be hard pressed to find her without these things:
a journal in her bag, a camera in-hand and sun kissed shoulders.
Tara writes from experience, pain, truth, triumph and that place,
deep down, where the words simmer in emotion.
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