Finding Closure for a 30-Year Regret

Toward the end of every May, a seasonal sadness comes to visit my psyche. This year, the sadness is stronger than usual, and it wasn’t until Friday night that I figured out why. As part of my annual talk with tweens and teens about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, I revealed a deep, 30-year-old regret:

“I never walked across the stage when I graduated from the University of Texas at Austin,” I told the small group of former students. “I was drinkin’ then. I didn’t think it was that important. I got my degree in the mail.”

“Whoa,” one teen said. Two others’ jaws dropped.

Per usual toward the end of May, I view photo after photo on Facebook and Instagram of smiling college professor friends and some of my own former students in their college regalia and I feel a sad powerlessness. In my whatever-year-long sobriety, I’ve been able to make right many wrongs and wipe clean many regrets. I doubt, though, that there’s a do-over program out there for Old College Graduates Who Didn’t Walk the Stage.

Yesterday I tried to remember through a 30-year-old fog of alcohol and depression why I felt as if I needed to put up an “it’s not important to me” wall back then. Maybe I was sure no one in my family would come to Austin to see me walk across the gradation stage. Maybe I was still hurt because my alcoholic father didn’t attend my high school graduation. Maybe the alcohol and depression really skewed my perception and priorities to the point that graduation, life, etc., all seemed meaningless—like I could care less.

Well, big surprise: On the 30-year anniversary of completing my bachelor’s in journalism, I now care. And there just isn’t much I can do about it.

Today I’m hearing the echo of one of several promises of the program of Alcoholics Anonymous: “We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it.”

But some days I regret the past. Do you? Am I alone?

Regardless of whether I’m alone in feeling this way, do I want to continue feeling this way?

Hell no.

Besides, my AA sponsor has drilled into my brain that I can feel sorry for myself for 15 minutes every day, but then once that 15 minutes is up I have to look for solutions and get on with my day. So now that my pity party time is up, I’m wondering:

How does one have a college graduation do-over?

Maybe I invite my college professor friends, former students, friends, and family into my backyard, where someone funny and outrageous like Spike Gillespie gives a keynote speech and I walk across a platform in a UT cap and gown. Maybe.

Maybe I toss the cap up into the air with a “Yipee!” and my dachshund-mix snatches the hat and quickly hides it somewhere in the yard. Maybe.

Maybe I host a graduation party afterward with vegan cake and alcohol-free punch. Maybe.

Maybe there IS a way that I can avoid a recurrence of this regret on the 31^st anniversary of my graduation. Maybe.

More will be revealed.