“Do it or don’t do it; you will regret both.”
Despite what your algorithm may be feeding your 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 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 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!