I don’t know if I agree with the line that follows: “But then again, too few to mention.” Still, I know that I am looking forward to eliminating as many regrets as possible in the years ahead. Life is too short for regrets.
Most of my regrets come from things I didn’t do.
I didn’t finish college, and though it is never too late I don’t see myself putting in the time and effort (not to mention expense) to finish a degree that no longer feels relevant. Yes, I would love to say I went back and got my bachelor’s (I do have an associate degree), but it feels as though the time for that has passed. If it’s only for bragging rights I think I’d rather spend the time writing new books.
I didn’t start writing seriously until I was nearly 50. Do I wish I’d started sooner? You bet! But was I ready to accept the challenge and face the rejection that came with submitting my work, putting it out in public for others to praise or pan? Probably not.
I never went to Paris, though it has been one of those “impossible dreams” for as long as I can remember. My retirement income likely will not stretch to fulfill that dream, but I won’t say “never” to this one; things could still change.
It wasn't Paris, but this was one of the best vacations we ever took. An experience like this can replace a lot of regrets!
You might wonder what has me in such a contemplative state. Well, for the last several months we have been dealing with medical crises that have eaten up all of our time, attention, a fair amount of money, and most of our emotional energy. I’ve talked about this a bit, my husband’s four surgeries over a couple months, with one more coming up next week, and I accept it as part of aging. If we hang around long enough various parts are going to require some maintenance work.
More than that, however, is watching those around us go through the same things. Friends who experience serious health crises, family whose health declines, and the constant drumbeat of social media reminding us almost daily of the passing of some prominent person or another.
In fact, social media seems to have elevated the act of sharing bad news to an art form. Acquaintances post stomach-churning images of their latest injury or surgery, distant family share the loss of a friend, neighbors publicly mourn the passing of a beloved pet - and we feel compelled to let that misery into our lives, to acknowledge their loss and offer our condolences, comfort, and compassion.
I have reached a point where I cannot take in all the world’s misery. I have enough of my own to deal with right now. In the space of a week we received word of two close family members who are struggling - one has been placed in hospice care, the other is going downhill rapidly - and the death of a third. At the same time I am observing the decline of yet another member of our family.
I am by nature an optimist. I feel as though I am simply lucky beyond anything I might deserve, and I am grateful for the life I have. I expect to have many more years to continue replacing regrets with experiences.
But as a result of all of this - the personal losses, and the barrage of public losses - I have been thinking a bit more about my own mortality. I think about how much time is gone, how much is left, and the things I want to do with that time.
Most of all I come back to my starting point above: Life is too short for regrets.
Does he know what's ahead? No. And neither do we. The future is what we choose to make it.
If you want to do something, do it. If you want to create something, create it. The time for your dreams and desires is now, not later. Despite my optimistic outlook, I know that later is not guaranteed - I can look around me, at my own family, and see that.
Ask yourself what you really want, then make it happen. Live with experiences, not regret. Always.