Regret Isn’t Just Eating Your Chips — It’s Chomping Away at Your Peace of Mind

Regret Eating Your Chips

We love to tell ourselves stories to keep us "safe" — like emotional seatbelts we never asked for but keep buckling out of habit.

But what if the truly reckless thing isn’t cliff-jumping into your dreams, but believing that stale story in the first place?

What’s that charming bedtime story you’ve been whispering to yourself? The one where you’re the cautious hero, carefully rationing your joy, convinced that playing small earns you cosmic brownie points? Meanwhile, the universe is politely coughing in the corner, wondering when you'll stop hoarding your magic and start the actual show.

While you were hugging the curb on Safe Street, you missed Riot Road, Dream Drive, and Freedom Freeway — all the good stuff with neon signs and questionable parking. Now you’re lost. And the only way forward? Reverse at full speed, throw your polite caution tape out the window, and crash into every missed exit until you find the one that feels like home.

Yes, you’ll stand alone for a bit. You’ll get weird looks from the people still worshipping at the altar of "reasonable." You’ll probably upset a few folks. They’ll survive. You might even startle yourself with how alive you feel.

Because here’s the twisted paradox:To truly belong, you first have to risk belonging nowhere. To truly help others, you have to stop performing helpfulness like a sad tap dance and start living from genuine want. To truly live, you have to stop auditioning for your own life like it’s a talent show judged by people who don’t even like you.

And regret? That slippery little gremlin doesn’t care if it’s been squatting in your soul for a day or a decade. It evaporates the moment you throw open the door, let the breeze in, and decide that today — not tomorrow, not "someday when Mercury isn’t in retrograde" — is your actual start line.