Losing Sleep Over Regret
You know those regrets that won’t release their talons from your brain. They set in their claws so deeply that, if you try to remove them, you feel like you’ll end up removing part of yourself.
I have one such memory. One that as soon it gets pushed to the recesses of my mind, my long-term memory digs it up to broadcast at 11:27 p.m.—replaying it over and over so I finally fall back asleep curled up in shame.
You don’t have to wonder; I will tell you the story. Before I begin, though, I must let you know that I’m well aware that this is not that bad. You will be tempted to read my anecdote below, scoff, then say, “Seriously, get over it!” But for some reason I can’t, no matter how many times I try to expunge it from my mental record. No matter how often my husband confirms that it was, indeed, not a big deal, I still get squeamish any time I drive near the part of town where it occurred. We all have those moments (big or small) of shame, failure, or embarrassment that we can’t remove from our brain or our identity.
Without further ado, here we go:
My husband and I had just moved across the state—he started his first full-time job, I had quit my job, and we had a six-month-old baby girl. Everything was changing (and expensive), so I decided to freelance a bit to make a little extra cash. I was hoping for some copywriting or editing work, but when I sent my resume to a local non-profit, they saw videography on my list of skills and asked for a quote on a project.
It wasn’t what I preferred, but I made plenty of videos at my last job, so I knew I could do it. The only problem was I didn’t have any equipment, but they said they would provide everything I would need. In my inexperience, I didn’t think to ask about the kind and condition of the equipment. When I arrived for my first day on the job, everything was a disaster.
The microphone didn’t work properly.
I was unfamiliar with their camera’s brand.
They wanted me to use a teleprompter which I had never done before.
I quickly realized I was in over my head. Not one to give up easily, I googled what I could, took hours editing terrible raw audio, and spent the night before Thanksgiving at a coffee shop near my grandparents’ house trying to upload the final video for them to access.
The good news: The video turned out better than I’d expected.
The bad news: I spent way more time on it than I’d quoted, leaving me with a slim profit margin.
I should have let them pay me what I had originally quoted, but since they had made some changes along the way from the original request, I thought it would be okay to ask for more in my final invoice.
They were not pleased. My stomach dropped when I read my client’s email stating how surprised and disappointed they were. Their frustration with my failure seared deep in my memory. Whenever I recall the email, my chest tightens and my fists clench.
I haven’t shot a video since then, and I soon gave up freelancing altogether. The fear of letting another client down was too much.
Now here you might feel the need to give me some small business advice, but that is not the point of this essay. The point is that my failure from my first freelance gig hangs over my head like foreboding summer storm clouds. Whenever I’m working on a project, the regret from that failure leads me to anxiously worry I’ll let someone down again. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop feeling the weight of regret from that final invoice (or taking the job altogether).
The other night I dreamt that I ran into my client at the grocery store, and I was able to apologize for all my mistakes six years prior. I finished my apology and looked eagerly into her eyes for her response.
Then I woke up.
How dare my mind lead me to the precipice of relief only to plummet me back into shame!
I tried falling back asleep and praying I would resume my dream where I left off. I wanted to know her response—even if it was from my own imagination.
As I lay there for an hour, unable to sleep as I ruminated about the entire ordeal over and over in my head, I began to ponder what would a good response have been? What answer could absolve me of my shame? What could she say that would release the talons of regret in my mind?
Is my peace really hanging on the approval of a woman I’ve encountered only a handful of times?
In my insomnia, I realized all these years I’ve been waiting for permission to let this shame go. My husband and friends couldn’t tell me to release the regret. It had to be someone with authority—which I assumed was the client herself since she was the victim of my naïve business practices.
But it hit me, there was a greater voice who could speak over my regret. Only one person had the power to relieve my guilt. A gracious email from my client would not set me free from my shame, but Christ could. Even in an inconsequential instance like this one, Jesus’ blood speaks a better word than any pardon someone could offer me.
My identity doesn’t lay in the hands of a client, a reader, or anyone else for that matter. My identity is secure in Christ, who covered me and all my sins and mistakes (including minor freelance errors) with his righteousness. I don’t have to prove myself to anyone because I am in Christ.
That promise isn’t solely for the “major” sins and failures in life, but for every regret, big or small, that seeks to implant itself deeply in my mind. I cannot release them with my own positive thinking, but Jesus can remove them by the power of his love and truth.
Friend, we don’t have to lie awake at night rehearsing our past mistakes or future worries. When we feel the pangs of regret, we can remind ourselves, “What then shall we say to these things?” What do we say to the worrisome “what-ifs,” grievous sins, and shameful regrets? “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31, ESV). No failure, no mistake, and no missed opportunity can ultimately defeat us. “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37, ESV). Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ—neither our past mistakes nor our future ones.
Every night, when I’m again faced with my worst nightmares, I can let the Holy Spirit rewrite the script in my head. I can acknowledge that these scenes are often true. I’ve failed, either due to my sin or own limitations. However, those moments are not the truest thing about me.
Rather than wallow in these imperfections or try to excuse them, I can bring them to the feet of Jesus. I can surrender all my regrets. Every failure. Every anxiety. And once my mind is free from the grip of regret, I’m free to instead meditate on the glorious truths of Christ when I can’t sleep.
“I am awake through each watch of the night to meditate on your promise” (Psalm 119:148, CSB).
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Sleepless."
Do you ever lie awake at night, wondering if you’re not enough?
I’ve been there too, friend, which is why I’m so excited to share with you my upcoming book, Perfected: Trading Shame and Striving for Wholeness in Christ. This book will help you replace the burdensome expectations and empty affirmations of this world with the truth that Christ has perfected you for all time. You can find freedom from your self-sufficient striving and self-condemning shame and rest in the finished work of Christ on your behalf.