Several years ago, I got into a car accident and totalled my car (ok, my mother’s car).  Thankfully, no one was hurt and the only injury I sustained was to my bank account, which was hit with a hefty fine for “following too close”.  The other driver was forgiving, my parents showed concern only for my safety, and the police officer was friendly enough to hint at the tenuous nature of the charge.  As far as car accidents go, it was fairly mundane.  In fact, the only person that gave me a hard time was myself.

In the following days, I spent hours mulling over all the things that I could have done differently to avoid the accident.  I could have paid more attention to the road instead of the linguistics paper that was due the next day.  I could have driven more slowly, used my mirrors more often, or changed lanes earlier. Even something as seemingly trivial as leaving the house a minute later would have almost certainly lead to a smooth ride.  If only I would have grabbed a snack before leaving, or answered the phone, or had trouble finding a shoe. Maybe if I spent an extra second searching for a good song on the radio, or putting on my seatbelt, or backing out of the driveway all of it could have been avoided.  Thinking about these endless scenarios in which everything would have been different caused me to feel anxious, frustrated and guilty.

Finally, amid my endless “if only” fantasies, I had an appeasing thought:  if I mourn for and blame myself over all the things I could have done to avoid negative situations, then it is only rational that I should also be grateful for and laud myself for all the things I did do in positive situations. What about all the times I hit the breaks in time to avoid a reckless driver?  What about all the times where leaving the house a minute later would have put me in a situation where an even worse car accident was unavoidable?  I quickly realized that the amount and quality of my negative “if only” thoughts paled in comparison to the infinite positive ones that I rarely explicitly recognized.

It became a game.  What if my parents enrolled me in a different high school (where I would have made different friends)?  What if I didn’t let my friends convince me to go out the night I met my girlfriend?  What if I stuck with my English major instead of switching to psychology?  What would have happened if, before all those instances where I found myself “in the right place at the right time”, I grabbed a snack before leaving, or answered the phone, or had trouble finding a shoe?  It soon became clear to me that, even if I was going to build true emotion upon an imagined foundation, I would have to give equal time to both my shortcomings and my virtues.  This is a principle that I often turn to in my life, and one that I believe can be extremely helpful in building optimism, self-confidence and resilience.

As an ardent candy addict, I offer a metaphor:  If you are going to blame your right hand for dropping a single candy on its way to your mouth, then you also must commend your left hand for gripping the bag tightly enough to retain the many others.

---

Jonathan is a Masters student at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University of Toronto (OISE/UT). His current research focuses on interpersonal variables that affect emotional experience, expression and growth in survivors of trauma.