My friend Val gave me a writing prompt a few days ago, along with the challenge to write every two weeks. Which, if you look through my post history, you will see is quite a challenge. **Insert uncomfortable smirk here** The prompt came from a podcast she listens to by Kara Loewentheil and the episode centered around the idea of “what is the most important question you can ask yourself”. Kara shared that she believes it is “will I regret this when I am done?” It’s the question she uses to step back and evaluate her decisions from the perspective of her life as a whole, not just in that moment. It is also how she aligns her choices with who she ultimately wants to be.
Will I regret this when I am done?
It honestly is a great question, one that I don’t think I have really asked myself before. But as I sit here in a coffee shop, not in the midst of a life altering choice, it stirs up a different set of questions:
What are my regrets? And what is the core reason for that regret?
As I think over my life so far, I don’t regret much. That’s not to say that my life has gone according to any of my plans though. 12-year-old me would wonder why I’m not a famous singer who is married to Lance Bass, where as 34-year-old me knows there is a very obvious reason why marrying Lance Bass would not have worked out well. 16-year-old me was ready to join the Air Force and revolve my life around my high school crush, who I don’t even talk to anymore. I don’t even think we are friends on Facebook, and I have friends on Facebook that I only met for two days, over ten years ago. I have lost friendships and loved ones, forgotten birthdays and recitals, failed at overcoming hurdles and given up on dreams. But ultimately my regrets boil down to just two.
The first is Alex. Back in junior high, he was a friend of a friend. Honestly, we were acquaintances more than anything, I think. I don’t even know his last name, I mostly just remember that he played soccer. I think he was the first person I knew who played that sport. Anyways, back then I was really insecure about my memory. I know what you’re thinking… “You were insecure about what?!” But it’s true. I had an insanely good memory, I would remember the most ridiculous facts and almost never forgot a face. And trust me, I get your skepticism. An intensely good memory would strike you as more of a funny quirk or a good party trick, maybe really useful for trivia, but a driver of insecurities? No way. However, in high school, when all any of us want is to be accepted, the consistent reminder that you have vivid and specific memories of people who completely forgot you exist, starts to hurt after a while.
So I started to play it cool. I stopped being quite so excited to see people I used to know, and that day I feigned forgetfulness. It was the first time I had seen him in probably five years, which in high school was still a significant amount of time. Our mutual friend had brought him to church and I remember him greeting me with such a big smile. He seemed so happy to see a familiar face and I, in a moment of true hypocrisy, acted like I only vaguely remembered him, when in reality I knew precisely who he was and was excited to see him again. I regretted it instantly, as I watched the smile fade away from his face. The stupidest part of all, is I literally hurt him in the exact same way I had been hurt and was trying to avoid.
My second regret will not be named. Mostly because I think he still follows me on Instagram and too many of my friends know who he is. So, anonymity will be the name of the game for this one. It took me too many years to realize, but his was a friendship I took for granted and I genuinely wish I hadn’t. Back then we worked at the same company but in different departments and for me, the job was overwhelming some of the time, underpaid all of the time, and sprinkled with joyous moments of camaraderie with coworkers. It’s one of those jobs that I will never go back to voluntarily, but will always remember fondly because of all the fun times with friends I had while working there.
He was a really good friend. So supportive, always there to give me a hug when I needed one. I look back in awe of the conversations we had, the insecurities I shared, how encouraging he could be. I laugh when I think of the few times he unwittingly insulted me, like when he called me flirty or said I reminded him of She-Hulk. Ha, I don’t think I have ever seen a man backpaddle so fast. Truthfully, I liked him a lot and I liked him as more than just a friend, but every time I felt my heart grow a little too attached, I would remind myself that there was no way a guy like him could ever be interested in me. I was so busy keeping my guard up, trying to make sure I never got hurt, that it took a few years for me to realize I may have been wrong.
Granted, I don’t really know either way. Maybe he really only ever saw me as a friend and I am needlessly carrying around this guilt. I don’t get to talk to him anymore, so I have no idea how he felt back then. What I do know is that towards the end of our friendship, I set a boundary out of fear and because of my own insecurities, I expressed it in the most ambiguous way possible. And when I consider how he reacted, I worry that I hurt him with my words.
So what do my two regrets have in common?
Both times my fear of rejection led to actions that hurt others in the exact way I didn’t want to be hurt. And I wish it hadn’t.
Deep down, I want to be braver than that. With my heart, my time, my energy. I don’t want to keep living a life where I hold back because I don’t have enough data to be confident of the outcome. Too often the questions I ask are: What if I fail? What if it doesn’t work out? What if I get hurt? What if I end up looking like an idiot? What if they think I am weird?
Well, I have failed at things. Things have not worked out. I have been hurt, I have been an idiot, and people have definitely called me weird. But I’m still here. I’m still alive and there are people who still love and accept me. The important question I want to start asking myself is this:
Regardless of if I succeed or fail, will I regret it if I don’t at least try?
Sojourn Nation 