When the Little Voice Chides.

A person I have long held in high esteem asked this week whether I would agree to meet her. I declined. It wasn’t the first time I’ve declined her request and I always thought my reason was sensible and wholly justified. Now I’m not so sure.

A little voice spoke to me tonight in the way that little voices emanating from somewhere deep inside the consciousness have a habit of doing. It suggested that my reason was actually less than edifying. Could it have been cowardice, it asked, or maybe vanity? Could it have stemmed from a fear of abandonment under which I suspect I might have been labouring since age 5½?

The question made me feel bad about myself. It hinted, with that suggestion of certainty which little voices from the consciousness seem to possess in matters subtle and psychological, that I should have agreed to the meeting so the matter could be settled once and for all. ‘Hang the possibility of abandonment,’ it whispered. ‘Isn’t that what a braver man would have done?’

It made a compelling argument, but I’m not sure how I can know whether it was right or not. Maybe I’m just finding another reason to beat myself up because I feel dead in the water at the moment and I dislike feeling dead in the water.

Well, right or not, I now wish I’d agreed to the meeting. Even if nothing else, it would have splashed a lot of vibrant colour into a life that is grey and tedious. It might even have been one of the most momentous meetings of my life. But it’s too late now and it’s almost certain that I’ll never get another opportunity. Consequently, I worry that I might have failed both myself and a person I have long held in high esteem.

But life’s a mysterious business and sometimes things happen for the best of reasons even though you’re not privy to the workings of fate. I expect I’ll survive, and I’ll try not to regret its latest machination because regret is always pointless.