“Do it or don’t do it; you will regret both.”
Despite what your algorithm may be feeding you right now, Kierkegaard didn’t actually say or write that—but he said something very like that, so I guess the attribution is sort of fair. And it’s pithy and most of us, I think, can relate.
I have found, though, that my life hasn’t really worked like that.
For example, I wish, often, we’d had a third child [1], and I am so glad we didn’t.
You can want a thing, imagine it, know that it is a good thing; and also know that not choosing it is right. You may be wistful, but you are also profoundly relieved. I imagine that third pair of feet pattering down the hallway, a little person snuggling into my lap to read a story, showing me, gradually, who they are and what makes them tick, and the longing stirs. But then, with a click and a thud, my focus adjusts to the life we actually have, the one I’m barely holding together most days, the two kiddos who need everything I’ve got. And I breathe a sigh of relief and know I did the right thing the way that I know that 4:58 comes right after 4:57. It wasn’t ever really a question. It was an idyll.
When I sit in sacrament meeting sometimes, I get to wishing I had left the institutional Church in my twenties, when a number of my friends were leaving. I was in grad school in California when I lived through Prop 8 and I first seriously considered leaving. It would have absolutely wrecked my relationship with my parents, but it would have made much of the nearly twenty years that have followed ethically tidier and a lot less tedious. But then in a rush come the acknowledgements: if I had done that, the friendships I wouldn’t have, the hard-won experience and perspective I don’t get, the impossible family relationships I don’t have to navigate. I’m glad I didn’t leave. Leaving would have been moral and good—and also not right for me.
Then there is the inverse of the title: I wish I hadn’t, and I’m glad I did. I have fewer of these. But I do know that sometimes life’s big (and small) “mistakes” turn out to be great gifts. Maybe your life has gone that way; maybe you know somebody whose life has been defined by a mistake that turned into a blessing. That hasn’t really been my path. While some of my decisions may look risky from the outside, I have lived a cautious, carefully considered life so far. Maybe that philosophy itself might lead me to one day say, “I wish I hadn’t, and I’m glad I did.” But so far, I’m just plain glad about my measured approach to life.
The Church, in my opinion, has a way of telling us what we should want and pushing us to go after it; it also has a way of telling us what we shouldn’t want and shaming us if we happen to claim it anyway. This can make knowing what we actually want, understanding what is actually good for us, very difficult. I have seen friends renegotiating their relationship with the Church in their thirties, forties, and beyond with a lot of anger, because now they don’t know themselves, so thoroughly did they turn themselves into the person the Church told them they had to be.
They are terribly personal questions, but I am curious:
- Do you have any “I wish I had, and I’m glad I didn’t” decisions?
- What about “I wish I hadn’t, and I’m glad I did”?
- Do you feel as though there was a time in your life when the Church did the decision-making for you? How do you feel about that now?
[1] My great grandma had a baby at my age, but I’m all but out of that game now, thank goodness.
Margie, I really appreciate this post. And that’s not just because my brain loves to play “what if.”
For quite a while I wished that I hadn’t gotten divorced, but I was glad I did. I feel this requires a little explanation. I wasn’t the one who said, “I think it’s time.” A month or two after the divorce went through I thanked my ex-wife for being brave enough to recognize the need and speaking up. We were both miserable. We both had needs that weren’t being met. I’m in a much better place now with my mental health and I’m finally (at almost 50!) getting to know myself, rather than molding myself to be who others want me to be.
And now I wonder why we didn’t end it sooner. Maybe we should have. And while the divorce made a lot of things more difficult (especially financially: beyond two incomes, she made nearly 4 times what I did), it was the right thing and has helped me become a stronger me. Is my life amazing now? No. But it’s my life. I own it. And I’m slowly making it a more intentional life.
Margie – Yes, Yes and Yes!😉 I have made some huge error decisions in my life, that for personal reasons, I won’t divulge here, but recognizing the errors and working through them are what makes me who I am today. I think that is true in most people’s lives as long as they are willing to be introspective and willing to own up to mistakes and learn from them.
I was very fortunate to have two full careers as a military and airline pilot. It is the most fantastic “job” in the world! “Job” in quotes, because especially as an airline pilot that’s all I had to do, go to work and fly wonderful airplanes and usually have fabulous layovers with enjoyable people. None of it came easily, like any GREAT vocation there was a a considerable amount of sacrifice that went into being able to “slip the surly bonds” for a career. Many folks see the success and say “that guy is lucky.” Luck did not have a damn thing to do with it. They don’t see the schooling, rigorous training where half did not complete flight school, and yet again many acquaintances not surviving due to error or aircraft malfunction and combat sorties.
Life is full of rewards, but I believe that a certain amount of risk needs to be taken in order to be able to gain the reward. That risk is usually in the form of a formidable amount of time and effort being taken before the reward is gained, where failure is a possibility. That is life. Teddy Roosevelt’s “man in the arena” is fitting to any life. A life well lived will have numerous risks/rewards in my opinion.
I figured out before the end of my mission, that church leaders are fallible and subject to some really stupid shiz decisions, yet I came home and worked at being a good RM. Later in life as a result of some of my own personal stupid, negligent decisions, I came to the conclusion that there were some asshole bishops and some great ones. I decided as a result to NEVER play bishop roulette ever again. As a bishop, now released, I fortunately knew what it was like to be in the deep, dark hole of error/sin/mistakes, and the last thing I would ever do was dig the hole deeper (church discipline). Relaying the love of the Savior was always first and foremost to help a person struggling.
I think that the church is moving away some, from the barbarity of church discipline, but still has a long way to go. Often missionaries come home early, because on a mission, a person hopefully gains a real testimony of the atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ. As a result they realize there were some things they need to repent of. They go to their mission president for help, and that son of a bitch sends them home as part of the repentance process where they have to meet with the whole stake presidency and high council! Where in the actual hell is the thought of the Sons of Mosiah and Alma the younger? Our church leadership does not have a testimony of that occurrence in the Book of Mormon. Or the Lord’s ability to instantly forgive an individual who has erred. (phew, rant over)
As a result of my experience, I do not allow ANYONE to judge me or my family and friends. I love the church and the community it has provided me in my life, but it makes no decisions for me or those I care about.
Cheers W&T Friends –
PS – Hawkgrrl – Glad you’re on the mend. My dearest friend and I cycle together often. Before retirement he had the same situation in a parking lot. Insurance bought him a new and better bike!
Margie, are you me? (We’re the same age, have 2 kids and play the organ. I am aware we have a few differences, too.) We had a third child on the way, and had a miscarriage. It is still devastating. We opted not to pursue any more kids on the advice of doctors. I don’t know if that was the right choice. Half of all the doctors thought that having any kids at all was extremely risky. The other half of the doctors felt that while there was risk, we can manage risk. The experts didn’t have nearly as much consensus as I would have liked.
My wife and I were raised in Utah. When our kids were young, we spent seven years in the midwest, which we enjoyed. Eventually we came back ‘home’. Closer to family, with it’s pros and cons. Back into the Jell-o Belt, with it’s cons. Shortly after returning to Utah, I was offered a job with a considerable pay increase on the East coast. There was risk with the job (startup) and we just didn’t want to move yet again. 8 years later, I still don’t make as much as their offer.
I’ve never been one to worry that much about the road not taken. There are so many decisions that we all have to make with what information is available to us at the time. Occasionally we get information after the fact that might have made a difference, but I find that even looking back after the fact I still don’t know if what I did was the ‘right’ thing or not. I certainly let the church define my default position on many things in life. I served a mission. (Am I happy about that? I don’t know.) I paid tithing. I taught primary. I led the ward choir. I didn’t drink coffee. A lot of things that I just trusted that the church’s opinion was the right opinion, so I didn’t need to think about it too much. I still go to church, but I try hard not to let anyone else’s opinion override mine. I resigned from leading the choir. I’m not paying tithing. I don’t drink coffee. I sing in the choir. I don’t know if I’m making the right decisions, but I’m insistent that right or wrong, the decisions will at least be mine.
I wish I hadn’t – I’m glad I did: My LDS mission. I’m sure I have benefitted from my mission in ways that are easy to identify (foreign language / foreign living experience) and other ways that are more subtle (empathy for others, etc.). I’m also relatively certain that the opportunity cost of being away for two years was high in ways that I didn’t fully appreciate back then.
I have gone through spells where I wish I could go back in time and not get married. I’ve been such a horrible wretch that I wish my angelic wife would’ve found a better man. Even so, things being what they are, I’m so glad that I did marry her. It was the best thing I ever did–for me at least.
Do you have any “I wish I had, and I’m glad I didn’t” decisions? I sometimes wish I HAD written a resignation explanation letter to people I care about, explaining my position rather than letting their imaginations run wild. A few might have actually read it right? And I’m glad I didn’t. That energy was better spent elsewhere, and I probably would have communicated poorly anyway.
What about “I wish I hadn’t, and I’m glad I did”? My mission, same as Josh h. I’m trying to help my kids have experiences in life that reflect the good part of my mission but avoid the bad. Things like short term and long term travel, learning a language, intellectual curiosity about the world, raising them outside of the Utah monolith, etc.
Hmm.
I wish I had, and I’m glad I didn’t: My family had a great tragedy most of my life ago that still impacts me negatively today. There’s no reasonable way I could have prevented it, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing I did. On the other hand, if I had done it I almost certainly would never had met my spouse, and so you can see why if I had a time machine I’d reluctantly not change a thing.
I wish I hadn’t, and I’m glad I did: my mission, as will. I don’t really regret going and I think it was a net positive experience for me. On the other hand, my absence affected one of my family members much more than I anticipated. That was naivety on my part, really. I should have known better. I wish I knew how much good it would have done if I stayed.
I’m a lesbian. I wish I had started dating women when I was attending BYUI, so I could have a relationship with someone who understands the baggage that comes with being queer and Mormon. I was scared to try because of the honor code. I’m glad I didn’t, because my experiences dating men forced me to face my true identity as a lesbian, when before I thought I was bisexual. That’s something I needed to happen, and I also didn’t need the added anxiety of hiding a relationship from the administration when I was also dealing with mental health issues and struggling with living away from home.
Like both Josh H and Former Nonbinary Sunbeam, my immediate thought was my mission, an “I wish I hadn’t and I’m glad I did.” I probably have an “I wish I had, but I’m glad I didn’t” in going to college where I really wanted–either Penn State or somewhere else in PA where all my HS friends went. I still really love people from PA. I get them in ways I never get people from elsewhere. But I also remember that feeling I had when I lived there that I just couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Much as I loved it, I also felt stifled by it. And of course, I ended up at BYU (no choice in the matter–parents were only willing to pay if I went there, and pay they did) which was a little bit like if elementary school were a college. It was also a mixed bag, but it felt very safe, like being wrapped up in bubble wrap. And yet I very much resent and regret the indoctrination, the tattle culture, and I didn’t relate to most of the students despite a shared religion.
I too love a good counterfactual, so thanks for this great post!
Hi All,
Thank you for all of the thoughtful responses so far. AdamL, good for you. And good for your ex. I am glad your life feels like your own. That is no small thing to be able to say.
17RRider, oh to fly! My dad can fly. And I had an uncle who was crazy for it. Owned a few planes. Crashed a few. Always managed to walk away. But here I too fall into the trap of romanticizing the ability and failing to account for the cost. And that’s kind of what we’re talking about, isn’t it? Some good things aren’t worth paying for; others cost far more than we realize until we’ve already paid. And often the price is invisible to everybody but us.
Dave W: hi, twin! One of the reasons (though not the only reason) we don’t have a third is because pregnancy for me has always been high risk. I was okay for the two I did (I mean, I was miserable, but not out-of-the-common-way-miserable), but to do it again seemed like tempting fate. I am sorry about the miscarriage. That is a real loss.
josh h, Chadwick, Former Nonbinary Sunbeam, Hawkgrrrl: on missions. Not having served one myself, I am fascinated by what nuanced and post-Mormons say about their missions. Because, yes, it always seemed to me (even as a little Margie) that the opportunity cost of a mission was vertiginously high. Like, wtf-high. And you all will probably never know what you missed in that time. While the same is true for me–who knows where I might have gone and what I might have learned in those 18 months if I’d served–it isn’t really part of my psyche in the way that missions live in the psyches of those who serve. I never have dreams that I’m back at twenty-one years old not serving a mission, for example. My mom still has dreams that she’s on her mission. So does my brother. And they aren’t happy dreams. Neither of them would be willing to be real with me about what they felt they’d given up by going. My brother maybe. Definitely not my mom.
Jack, the sense that we are less than our person deserves is heavy. I have, at times, wished I had the capacity to be better for the sake of my spouse. But I sin in my wish, I think.
Also, Chadwick, in my sad experience, having penned a few letters that felt good and necessary when writing them and accomplished worse-than-nothing in sending them, fwiw, I think you made a good call.
And Former Nonbinary Sunbeam, I am sorry for the tragedy.
Marie, I wish you’d had that chance too. I see it only from the outside, of course, but to be a queer Mormon… it’s…really something. You deserve your tribe.
And Hawkgrrrl, this from you on BYU: “a little bit like if elementary school were a college” lol. Yes. Exactly. My Y experience was a good one, all told. Still, when I think of BYU, it’ s always the line from one my favorite films that swims to the front of my mind: ’tis a silly place.
@DaveW
I wish I hadn’t and I’m glad I did: I’m glad to know I have miscarriage buddies here. Society is not good at dealing with miscarriage in general but I feel like Church culture is especially bad at it. It hurts, and you’re not alone.
@Margie
There are some things that can happen that you can never truly heal from because there is always fresh damage. When it happened I had a very make lemonade out of lemons attitude, but I’ve seen how it tore my family apart and has ripped throughout our entire lives and affected the next generation, and all the toxic positivity in the world can’t make that better.
I guess I’m feeling particularly sour about it right now because I recently learned about something awful that happened to a sibling that would not have happened otherwise. It might have even been something I could have put a stop to if I hadn’t gone on a mission.
I have an altruistic streak a mile long. If I had been born in a religion or society that made helping people full-time a viable career path for me I very likely would have taken it. So as a practical matter there was no way anyone or anything was going to keep me from going on a mission. I’m happy that I did what I thought was the best thing I could be doing.
I don’t know that I actually did a lot of good, even by the Church’s metrics. I feel like the quantity over quality strategy the leadership pushes in reality results in neither. I think I influenced a few people for the better, but my very presence made some people’s lives worse. All of those were probably powder kegs waiting to go off and not my fault, but it still feels bad being involved.
I found the frantic pace of mission life exhilarating even if I could just barely accomplish it, but looking back on it I just think it was abusive. I think the most good I did was in the four hours a week we did service. It was often the most enjoyable part of the week and I wish we got to do more of it.
I wish I hadn’t but I’m glad I did: get married. Being in a mixed orientation marriage to a man I didn’t really love was a horrible experience. But if I hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have my children. I’ve got a friend who never got married but had a baby through embryo adoption. What if I’d done that instead? No, even knowing what I know now, I’m glad I got married.
Former Nonbinary Sunbeam, one of the things that I loved about being a college professor is I felt like my job was helping people. And it paid pretty well. In my job right now as an administrator, I feel less that way. This is a job in which I feel like no matter what I do, I am letting someone down. I do not enjoy that feeling. And yet, that’s life, isn’t it? Especially for people like you and me who care deeply about others and want to do the right thing by everybody, want to keep people from hurt and harm. We can’t do it all. And then we beat ourselves up for it. Go easy, friend. You deserve kindness too.
Janey, I think being married to a person you don’t love sounds like hell. Would I go through hell for my children? This is a very un-maternal thing to say, but I don’t know. You continue to impress me.
@Margie
There are a ton of teachers and related professions like daycare worker and minister in my family tree, so that’s probably where it comes from.
I hate the fact I have to choke off my empathy to be a functional human being in this world, and I hate how easy that is for me to do.
I remember thinking in high school that because I was aromatic but wanted kids I’d probably end up being married to someone I wasn’t really all that excited about romantically. I’m glad it didn’t work out that way.