"Regrets" has been a word suggested to me by several people. I don’t think I’ve put off writing about it intentionally. I just couldn’t think of any that came to mind readily that was worth writing about. I mean, if I wrote about every stupid decision I’ve made in my lifetime, I’d have a 1,000+ page volume on my hands.
Over the years, I’ve tried to separate “regrets” from “bad choices.” Perhaps that it’s denial, or maybe I just think every mistake I’ve made is just part of my life journey. And while I am quite far from perfect, I’ve lived a life I am quite happy with. I’m pleased with the fact I don’t have too many regrets, and I am kind enough to myself to forgive the bad decisions I’ve made. That old adage that goes, “with age comes wisdom”…it should be “with many mistakes over the years comes hard earned wisdom.”
So I’ll focus on the two regrets that have lingered the longest in the back of my mind.
The first is an action that has followed me since graduation from college. I wanted to move to Montana and work/live for a year. Nope, I had never been there. I’m certain in retrospect that the driver for this impulse was rooted in the notion of freedom. Freedom from my parents, from the postponement of getting a “real job,” from overall reality I suppose. And yet my father convinced me not to go.
Perhaps he wanted to see the efforts of my education put to quick use. Perhaps he assumed I would be miserable heading to a state where I knew no one, or nothing. It doesn’t matter. The point is, I wanted to go on an adventure, and I was convinced otherwise. So it’s regret coupled with a bit of resentment.
I have no idea what my life would have been like had I gone. I am so grateful for the career I have had, and the life I have carved out for myself. Had I gone to Montana, I may not have experienced any of that. However, I will never have that opportunity in my life again. That absolute freedom, when you aren’t responsible for anyone or anything other than yourself. No mortgage, no big bills, no children, no “other.” I regret I let that opportunity of freedom pass me by.
The other regret is far more emotional. It involves my relationship with my parents.
I grew up with an idyllic childhood. My brother and I were exposed to much, and had ample opportunities. Our home was filled with love. It is not lost on me how incredibly fortunate I was to grow up in such an amazing environment. It’s set largely set the tone for how I try to raise my own children.
And yet the older I got, the more I pulled away. My parents hadn’t changed; I had. They raised me to be independent, and it backfired. Somehow over the years, I decided that the lectures and lessons I grew up with - all delivered with the best of intentions and love - were no longer needed. I disregarded them not because of what the messages contained, but because of who they came from. Clearly, there was far too much baggage from my earlier years clouded in the communication. Supportive advice was interpreted as “a lecture.” And while they were the ones who moved South, I was the one who ultimately moved away emotionally.
I regret this distance now because you only have one set of parents. I know there is true love on both sides. My parents have been incredibly supportive of me over the past year, even if they haven’t completely understood the hows or whys of the end of my marriage. I believe they are proud of me, even if they don’t completely “get” me or the choices I have made in my life. And I’m okay with that now. For years, I was frustrated by this. At this point, I realize you can’t change people. I can’t change them, and they can’t change me. We are all pretty different people, but we are family. So we all need to embrace each other for who we are, and respect that. Or not. I’d rather try. Life is to short not to.
I’m sure I have other regrets, but these two have lingered for decades. I think tonight I’ve decided to get over Montana. My life has been full of adventure, and while I never got the freedom I was looking for at 22, I’ve now got it in a different manifestation 23 years later. I’m good with that. As for my parents, it’s never too late. It’s a work in progress. And if the visit I had with my dad two weeks ago is any indication, there’s a regret I’ll be able to put behind me as well.
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