Loving the mistakes

Before I left for Argentina, I made myself a promise: no arrepentimientos. No regrets.

Before i boarded the plane at the Green Bay INTERNATIONAL airport, I threw all of my old regrets into the bay, let them wash away to Canada, and landed in Argentina with a clean regret-free spirit.

In Argentina, I walked out of the airport filled with expectation. I was going to experience everything, and all without the weight of fear or regret. I was going to live, as I promised, 6 months without regret.

But this promise I made to myself is harder to keep than it appears. Regret is a complicated concept.

In the states, I lived my life carefully. I didn't take risks and therefore my only regrets were of things i did not do, things i did not say.

But in Argentina, I take risks everyday because there is no other way to live. If i want to see the city i have to take risks. And with these risks come mistakes; mistakes i am not used to making; mistakes that are a complicated mixture of Adeline and panic.

After a mistake filled weekend though i realized all these mistakes i am making, these mistakes i have been calling regrets, are not regrets; they are experiences. They are not the experiences I planned to return with but they are not regrets I should dread carrying around with me.

I am still not a risk-taker, watching people gamble still freaks me out, but I am now a mistake-maker. And more than that, I am a happy mistake maker. Because I have learned mistake is just another word for experience.