Part of our deal here at Casa Austere is to rid ourselves of emotional baggage as well as physical possessions. This being said, I fully realize this is easier said than done. We have a year. Tick tock tick tock….
Yesterday, I re-visited my university and in spite of menopausal brain blips, I was pleasantly surprised at how much came back to me. I was able to lead a family campus tour and even round it out with a few colorful stories (don’t ask). Obviously, any trip down memory lane is incomplete without a few regrets, some wistful, others more intense.
I wistfully wish I had stayed in better touch with my sorority sisters and friends. Pre-Facebook, pre-texting, this was more difficult, but I should have put more effort into it. I also wistfully wish I had had better fashion sense. (It being the ’80s, big, asymmetrical hair, pearls and a UW sweatshirt rocked it though….) Or that I had decided against the frosh fifteen. Minor things really.
I have never been a big believer in regrets, if you can put it that way. I wholeheartedly believe that if you’re happy with who you are then you have to embrace all of your experiences as having shaped your happy present. I do, however, tend toward the analytical. This makes me turn things over a time or two (hundred) in my head before moving on. If for no other reason than to make sure not to make the same mistake twice.
If I had to analyze my life and come up with a few actual, intense regrets, I’d have to say I only have a handful. My main regret doesn’t really involve me really. My dad was independent, insightful, intelligent, compassionate, the list goes on… and he died believing a lie. I hope he knows the truth now. My tattoo “faith” speaks to this wish.
As for the person involved in the lie, they were left in the past where they belong. They have no place in my present or in my future. I aim to forgive them even if they are not sorry.
Now, about that frosh fifteen…. s. xo