culprit

Why do I even care about recovered memories? Is it because I take it as some sign of progress? Am I masochist that wants to relive torture? Or do I want to convince myself that despite all the shit I went through I turned out alright? I wish I knew.

For better or worst the past defines part of me. Shaped me.

To some extent I think it’s important to understand where I came from so history doesn’t repeat itself. I don’t want to make the same mistakes my others in my life did. Nor do I want to make the same mistakes I made.

I’d like to be able to say I have no regrets, but, I do. I regret many things–I regret things I said, things I did, things I didn’t do or say. That doesn’t mean I don’t live my life trying to have no regrets, it’s just that over time I change and regret develops. I can accept my past for my past and rationalize things based on what I knew and understood at the time, but that doesn’t resolve the regret.

Most of my regret revolves around the cult. I should’ve seen things for what they were sooner. I shouldn’t have played a part in it. But, I did. I was both a victim, and a culprit. I helped perpetuate it, spread it. At the time I thought I was doing good, but now I know that I was not.