Letting Go

Regret tends not to get anyone very far. Not ever.

We can (and very much should) be apologetic for our mistakes. We should admit our wrongs, acknowledge and, where required, apologise for them. But we shouldn’t spend our lives feeling bad about them, regretting them…

We have to move on.

I’ve been, at times, an asshole of a boyfriend, husband, brother, son and friend. In times when I had no clue what I wanted from my life or during times I’ve been living in a past, I’ve made decisions that have hurt others.

And I have said sorry many, many times.

But regret, if you let it, will swallow you up. It will stop you from living in your present and giving your all to those around you.

I made a decision some time ago to stop regretting things. We make mistakes. It’s part of the human disposition. How you respond to them and the learnings you take from them is what will ultimately define you as a person.

I was, once upon a time, a pretty unreliable brother. I was an awful boyfriend, a lethargic son (‘sure, Mum… I’ll call you later.’). I’ve changed. I’ve grown as a human being. My children and my wife have changed me for the better. Happiness and genuine satisfaction with my life has changed me for the better.

We cannot live wrapped up in mistakes we’ve made. And it feels good to let them go.

Faith Restored

She told me I’d return to God again when the time was right for me. She told me He’d wait for me.

At the time, of course, I ignored the idea.

But my Mother was right.

I started going to church again a couple of months ago. At first, it was to accompany my Sister and Wife and to give my eldest son the opportunity of exposure to the Catholic Faith my family lived so staunchly by. I believe him to have sufficient intelligence, common sense of individual sense of identity that he will make up his own mind about God. But I owe him exposure – I owe him visibility over Faith so he can make an informed decision.

I say ‘at first’ it was for those reasons because I now find myself returning weekly, praying at home and having internal conversations with God.

I believe again. It didn’t happen overnight. It was a gradual reintroduction to a God who was really always there for me despite my rejection of Him.

I’m not a perfect Catholic. But I am working on it.

Love Yourself

When I met my now wife, Chloe, she was, as she is now, a beautiful UK size 14 (US size 12). She felt insecure about her weight for the longest time and, before our wedding, she took to an intense diet and exercise regime.

She lost weight, dropping from a 14 (US 12) to a size 10/12 (8/10). And she was happy, briefly.

But she soon became obsessed even after the wedding with calorie counting. We’ve always eaten relatively healthily anyway, but she took to stopping herself having meals out a lot of time and generally became a bit unhappy with her regime.

With two babies under her belt these days, she’s back at a size 14. We’re healthy. We exercise regularly, we eat balanced meals. She just naturally sits at a size 14 and she’s beautiful for it.

Today, as she tried on a new dress for a friend’s wedding next weekend, I told her:

“You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” she responded. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been with my body.”

I’m so thrilled she finally feels content. She’s not stick thin. She’s not meant to be stick thin. She’s healthy, feminine, curvy and beautiful.

I love her for it. But most importantly (and it’s taken her years) she finally loves herself for it too.