“I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.”
~ Lucille Ball
As part of Cornell University’s Legacy Project, Professor Karl Pillager asked over a thousand older Americans what were their biggest regrets. The most common answer was that they wished they hadn’t spent so much of their lives worrying. And, people seem to worry about their regrets.
“Regrets, I have a few, but then again, too few to mention.” I’m not sure I fully agree with Frank Sinatra on that, but I did learn quite early that worrying about things I can no longer change is a waste of time and energy. Consequently, I’ve made it a point to have as few regrets as possible about the life I’ve led and the decisions I’ve made.
Sure, there are a few things in my life I wish I hadn’t done, like using my father’s coin collection to buy a birthday gift for my mother and posing topless for a student film in college. There’s also many things I wish I’d done differently, especially when it involved my children. It’s difficult not to regret the serious mistakes I’ve made, but now I realize I’ve benefitted from nearly all of them because they’ve taught me how to become a better person.
Right after high school I went off to a private college and spent a couple of years enjoying myself rather than putting any effort into passing my classes. As a result of my grades and an unfortunate incident involving a yellow bikini and some rather immature behavior, I was asked to leave after my sophomore year. I then enrolled in a six-month business course, despite having absolutely no interest in being a secretary or anything else in the corporate world.
I got a job at the phone company and started taking classes part time at the state college. With help from my parents, I eventually became a full-time student again. By that time, I had learned my lesson and was serious about getting a degree. But then I got pregnant and married, unfortunately in that order, so my college career was once again interrupted. That stupid mistake eventually gave me three beautiful daughters, so how could I regret that?
I was in my mid-forties, divorced, and employed full time when I went back to college at a state university for working adults. I managed to earn top marks in all my classes despite having to juggle work, study, and single-parenting. I succeeded because I had learned valuable lessons of personal responsibility and perseverance from my failures in my twenties.
Some of the lessons have taken me a bit too long to learn, and I’m still learning, but there’s no point in obsessing over what I can’t control. However, like Ms. Ball, it’s not the things I did that I regret, but the things I didn’t do.
When I was in high school, I wrote out a list of things I wanted to accomplish in my life. These days they’re called bucket lists, but when you’re young, you think about living, not dying. I checked off a few of the items on the list, like going skydiving (I hated it) and visiting San Francisco (I loved it). The actual written list disappeared long ago, but I know there were only a handful of items I could check off even now after all these years.
Fear has prevented me from doing many things I’ve wanted to do. I was afraid of failure. I was afraid of what others would think. I was afraid I didn’t have enough money, energy, time, or talent. I needed Stuart Smalley’s affirmation, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”
I remember “Become a published novelist” was near the top of that list. I was 13 when I dragged my father’s old typewriter and a ream of his outdated letterhead out to a surplus army tent pitched in the backyard and pecked out the draft of my first novel. I’ve started writing dozens of first drafts since then, but abandoned each one before completion. I was afraid of failure.
I told myself that even if I did manage to finish a manuscript, it would be rejected if I submitted it to an editor or agent. And, if by some remote chance my novel would somehow be published, no one would read it and critics would pan it. So, I rationalized that if I didn’t submit the manuscript, it couldn’t be rejected, and if it wasn’t published, it couldn’t be criticized. Besides, didn’t I have too many responsibilities in my life to waste time and energy trying to become a published writer?
I didn’t stop writing altogether, however. I wrote personal essays, humor pieces, short stories, and commentaries. Many of them were even published. Copywriting and editing were part of my job, and the degree I was pursuing was in communications. I joined several local writers groups and online writing communities, but I abandoned the idea of writing a novel. Then, I discovered National Novel Writing Month.
NaNoWriMo is a creative writing project that challenges participants to write a complete 50,000-word novel during the 30 days of November. I participated for the first time in 2009 and every year since except one, and have several manuscripts that are nearly complete. I know time is probably running out for me to become a published novelist, but I have hope because I no longer have to content with the gatekeepers that prevented publication in the past. There are hundreds of indie authors out there, and many of them are generous enough to share what they’ve learned, like the guys from The Self-Publishing Podcast.
I have made peace with my past and believe there remains hope I still have enough time to leave this world with no regrets. Well, maybe one. I’m beginning to think I may regret committing to writing 30 posts in 30 days at the busiest time of the year.
NOTE: This is the year I celebrate (?) seven decades residing on this planet. My journey so far has taught me many life lessons, so I decided to share some of them with you. I’ll be posting one each day from Thanksgiving to Christmas.
Yesterday: Be Grateful
Tomorrow: Share Your Knowledge
