Regrets, I’ve had a few.

A sentence from an email I wrote to a dear friend yesterday:

I wish I could do everything I’ve ever done differently.

Well, of course that’s not possible.  Even if it were possible, it wouldn’t be right.  And it’s a pointless way of thinking.  If dwelt upon, it could even be an unhealthy way of thinking.

So let’s think that way for just a bit, shall we?

I lived my late teens and early 20s really and truly wanting to make the right decisions, but shrugging and saying, “it’ll all work out.”  And it has, sometimes beautifully.  I look at my life now, though, and see how, with just a little tweaking–i.e., a few decisions that even at the time I probably knew could have been more carefully thought out–I could be healthier, happier, and not poor as Job’s turkey.

Yes, I know.  Hindsight’s 20/20.  I guess that’s the point of living life forward and not being allowed to go back–just like in those movies where the protagonist travels back to “fix” things, but ends up making them much worse.  There’s no telling whom I’d have ended up never meeting or even potential danger I actually avoided by living life the way I have up until now.

I’m almost 100% sure, though, that some decisions reconfigured would have helped me at least avoid some bad times, if not make my life perfect now.

Oh, just humor me.  I need this.

I’d have chosen a different college.  I’ve been into this before, so I won’t flesh it all out again.  I’d have gone elsewhere.

I’d have double-majored.  I’ve been an English major since I was a baby, so there’s no way I could convince my 18-year-old self to give that up.  I’d have gotten something more practical along with it, though.  Maybe marketing, though I know that one’s not always a guaranteed job these days.  You have no idea, though, how hard it is to get an entry-level job with a company when all you have is an English degree–even a graduate one.  Those jobs you business majors got straight out of college that you resigned yourself to–that made you feel you weren’t using your talents?  I could barely even get an interview for one of those.

I’d not have devoted at least three of my most formative years to pining for the college non-boyfriend.  I would say he treated me like crap, but the word “treated” implies action.  I was probably near graduation before I realized that I could be mown down in front of him by a semi and he would really only feel bad that he didn’t feel that bad about my demise.  And yet, he kept me around on some level for years–some sick need for validation, maybe?  Who knows.  I’d have cut my losses WAY more early on if I could do it again.  (Of course, choosing a different college would have negated this one, but anyway.)

I wouldn’t have made out with my best friend–er, my best male friend at the time.  Our friendship would have faded anyway–I know this–but it wouldn’t have crashed and burned and left lingering awkwardness and heartache if we hadn’t gotten bored and stupid one summer.

And that icky guy I met on eHarmony?  I’d have him Eternal Sunshine‘d if I could.  Not because of lingering pain, but because of lingering nausea.

I’d have been nicer to my sister.  I’d have been more mature toward my now-brother-in-law.  I was an idiot.  I don’t even want to get into it.

I’d have put my family first.  They’ve proven to be the only true human anchors in my life.  I’d have lived with them longer on the front end of my adulthood, calmly weighed my options, and probably avoided having to move back in with them every so often in subsequent years.

I’d have a quieter spirit.  I wouldn’t explain myself all the time.  Except on my blog, which I would start earlier in my life.  I’d write more.  And I’d try to get published.  I still need to get the courage up for that one.

I am thankful that there is a long list of things that I would still do.  I would make healthier choices, I hope, but at the same time, I would deal with the heartache of relationships–platonic and otherwise–because people are worth it.  People are what matter.  I would learn to let go of them when the time is right, for both their sake and mine…that’s not my strong suit.

I’d still write long, unsolicited, oversharing letters to those I want desperately to understand me and my intentions.  I still do that anyway.

I’d still set out for Nashville with no job prospects.  I’d still move to The Wasteland.  I’d still be a teacher.  

I’d still kiss a cute boy with soft hands and sweet words.  I’d still believe those sweet words because I’m a naive fool.

I’d still be a naive fool.  I still am a naive fool.

And I’d still buy the Wii.

***

So what do I do with all this?  Er…nothing, I think.  Just reassuring the ether that I acknowledge my shortcomings and want to learn from my mistakes.

I have this enigmatic blog oracle.  He always seems to appear just when I need him, though I don’t even think about it beforehand.  Last night, he gave me a forum to dump all the angst, and I took full advantage of it.  I mentioned a lingering broken heart, worries about some decisions I’ve made and actions I’ve taken, irritation I can’t seem to shake at people who probably don’t deserve it, and other pieces of TMI.  

The oracle’s final word?  ”Worry about the people who do get you, not the ones too stupid to pay attention.”  I think…that’s what I’m going to try to do.

***

Oh!  Bonus “if I could”:  If I could do this morning over again, I’d test the pavement out to make sure that what looked like wet was not a solid sheet of ice.  I did not do so this morning.  It was a wipeout worthy of the Looney Tunes.  

And now, I leave you with lyrics from Radney Foster:

And if I had it all to do over
I’m sure I’d win and lose just as much
But spend less time on right and wrong
And a lot more time on love