People tell you not to dwell on the past for too long, to learn from your mistakes and move forward. But I’ve found myself thinking about the past a lot lately. The summer after fourth grade where my brother and I each had a friend to spend a week at my grandparents’ cottage. Behind-the-scenes shenanigans while working as a stage hand. That one concert I went to where a group of girls invited me to dance with them, but I opted not to. The wilderness orientation trip I took in Canada the summer before college. Walking through campus in the evening with a mug of hot chocolate in my hands, the snow and street lights creating a picturesque scenery. A romantic connection I felt but never got to explore. Long talks with my mentor in a coffee shop. Laying in the grass under the stars, dreaming about the future.
I’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, so no matter where I go I’m guaranteed to have a few close friends from school, church, or work as opposed to a thousand. Daydreaming is a past time that made my grades suffer and my mother exasperated with me. I’ve never been as strong as others my age, so on my wilderness orientation trip, when I was asked to help carry a canoe across the island, I couldn’t. In my school years I’ve only ever had two romantic stories that stand out: one where the guy I liked turned out not to be so great, and another where I could’ve explored the spark I felt, but I didn’t because I was scared.
This has been an odd year for a lot of people, both in good ways and bad. For me, it marks a relapse in my depression, the start of therapy, watching my mom battle illness, and finally becoming a published author. In a time where we celebrate what we’ve accomplished, mourn what’s been lost, and look towards the future, why do I find myself constantly asking, “what if? What if I’d done things differently all those years ago?”
What if I’d been more outgoing in school? What if I’d holed myself up at the library getting homework done in every spare minute I had? What if I’d been strong enough to carry the canoe across the island, instead of collapsing halfway? What if I’d asked that person out? What if I hadn’t wasted so much time pining after a guy who turned out to be a playboy?
Maybe I’d have more confidence in myself. Maybe I would’ve graduated with a higher GPA. Maybe I’d be in a relationship. There are so many ways my life could’ve changed if I’d made different choices, or if different things happened. And the more I look back and search for answers to what if’s, the more I realize that there are just as many negatives as there are positives. If I’d been more outgoing, I would’ve taken the few friends I did have for granted. If I spent every spare minute on homework, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself once I graduated and started work. If I hadn’t collapsed halfway through the island, I might have missed something I needed to carry with me into my adult years. And if I had explored that one romantic connection, it likely wouldn’t have worked out in the long run. It’s possible that, if things had been different, I’d wouldn’t like the woman staring back at me in the mirror.
Today, I can say I have few regrets. I might not love my day job, but my boss treats me kindly and I’m at a place where I feel valuable. I may not know what it’s like to be in a relationship, and maybe I never will, but as I get older I learn to value the moments I have that are mine. And this year, I’m finally starting to realize my dream of becoming a published author. My few regrets revolve around decisions that have hurt others. But I know I can learn from these bad decisions and become a better person. Maybe that’s the point of the what if game.
