I really don’t understand this saying: hindsight is a wonderful thing. To be more accurate, hindsight is a vicious, treacherous, demoralising, faith-stealing, malignant, party-pooping devil whose presence is akin to lancing a festering, reoccurring boil with an infected, blunt hypodermic needle. My saying is a little clumsier, but if I take out one or two adjectives, it might just catch on.
And to make it worse, this saying encroaches onto my sacred sarcasm territory. Get out! You are not welcome here. You do not make me smile sardonically. You are not wicked in the good way!
So, if I am forced to believe this saying is being genuine, then I call bs…
Looking back on what I have done over the last two months, I can’t help but wonder if I could have done better. These mutating, disease-ridden musings have been infiltrating my mind and morphing perfectly-useful, blissfully-ignorant thoughts into ones tainted with doubt and failure.
A very wise woman said to me once, ” You make decisions with the information you had at the time. At that time, it was the best decision you could make.” She then picked up her racquet and we had a blinding set of tennis. The advice was anything but blinding. It stuck with me and opened the way to a fresh alternative that would urge me to teeter on the edge of a more satisfying and less horrifying saying: ignorance is bliss.
So if I proclaim ignorance, and say, “Well, I did what I did because I didn’t have enough information,” then surely this means only one thing to someone who analyses the whos and whys of every suspicious glance thrown my way.
Get more information.
I did get more information. I had so much I couldn’t breathe. And the only way to cut open my constricted larynx was to grab that boil-lancing hypodermic needle that is hindsight, and stab myself in the throat. It feels a little better, though. Sometimes it is better the devil you know.