Strange Magic
This has been an oddball weekend of reflection....
Watched "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" and "Garden State" and an Electric Light Orchestra concert on the local PBS affiliate.
And I started thinking more about New Jersey, the decisions we make in life, the regrets we accumulate as we age.
I am nowhere near where I wanted to be at 44. I expected fame, or something, by now, not toiling away somewhere in the middle of nowhere at a know-nothing job, highly educated, a-political, twice-divorced and completely commitment-phobic.
In my defense, I can say that I had the dream, just no idea how to get it.
Some people have clear visions of what they want out of life--that nice home, comfortable spouse, a couple of kids, career of a sort (even if it wouldn't be power-driven or make them power-mad). Oftentimes these sorts of visions are attainable.
I never really thought much about anything that might be attainable. Actually, in my mind, what seemed attainable really wasn't. I knew that my parents, products of massively dysfuctional and abusive homes, wanted those modest dreams, and that the dreams did not yield the happiness they promised. I heard a lot of "coulda, woulda, shoulda" stuff my whole life. Too many regrets, not a lot of gratefulness.
So, as I sit here listening to my nearly-mint ELO 45's, I start to get my own "coulda, woulda, shouldas" going on....but then I realize that there really isn't room in life for regrets. A lot of times we make decisions contingent on the information we have at the time. If we have faulty or inconsistent information, our decisions aren't as informed as they could be. I had a lot of faulty and inconsistent information about family, about picking a spouse, about how to make a writing career, about what makes someone mentally ill, about higher education, about just about everything in the world around me. And, being of an impetuous, nearly Type-A nature, I often leapt before I looked or explored.
If this is the case--that I had faulty information and could not make the best decisions for myself--do I blame everyone in my life who provided me with all that misinformation? No. I really can't do that. My parents didn't set out to harm me, to give me faulty, inconsistent information about life. It was all they knew because it was all they were taught. I can forgive them.
But can I forgive myself? Can I forgive my own impetuous nature? Can I forgive myself for what appeared to be good decisions at the time, but now, in retrospect, could be viewed as seriously bad decisions? Sure, I can sit and wish I had the information then that I have now, but that isn't going to change anything here and now. I can sit back and cry in my proverbial beer, but that isn't going to change anything either. Actually, sitting and crying only causes inertia and depression and more regret. The past can't be changed--all we really have is the future. I am not near death and there is still significant time in my life to do quite a bit. It may be more difficult--everybody likes a fresh young face, and there's some bloom off this rose--but there's the trade-off of wisdom for youth. In that department, I've gained a lot.
Forgiveness is a slow process. But each day I spend doing something more than I could have, something different than I would have, and forgetting about what I shouldn't have, I can eventually get to that point where it is okay that my youth didn't prepare me for the disappointments of a life lived outside the lines of conventionality. I can forgive myself for the fears that kept me from accepting that, deep down, I kinda wanted everything that everybody else wanted but didn't think was possible for me.
And I don't have to try to put myself in a time machine to try to get back to some magic point where I can erase all the regrets, like so many people try to do nowadays.
Life is long. Regrets are crippling. And hope for things being better only comes to me once I begin forgive myself. The past was what it was. It could not have been any different because I simply did not know better.
The future, full of its own strange magic, is another matter entirely.
Watched "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" and "Garden State" and an Electric Light Orchestra concert on the local PBS affiliate.
And I started thinking more about New Jersey, the decisions we make in life, the regrets we accumulate as we age.
I am nowhere near where I wanted to be at 44. I expected fame, or something, by now, not toiling away somewhere in the middle of nowhere at a know-nothing job, highly educated, a-political, twice-divorced and completely commitment-phobic.
In my defense, I can say that I had the dream, just no idea how to get it.
Some people have clear visions of what they want out of life--that nice home, comfortable spouse, a couple of kids, career of a sort (even if it wouldn't be power-driven or make them power-mad). Oftentimes these sorts of visions are attainable.
I never really thought much about anything that might be attainable. Actually, in my mind, what seemed attainable really wasn't. I knew that my parents, products of massively dysfuctional and abusive homes, wanted those modest dreams, and that the dreams did not yield the happiness they promised. I heard a lot of "coulda, woulda, shoulda" stuff my whole life. Too many regrets, not a lot of gratefulness.
So, as I sit here listening to my nearly-mint ELO 45's, I start to get my own "coulda, woulda, shouldas" going on....but then I realize that there really isn't room in life for regrets. A lot of times we make decisions contingent on the information we have at the time. If we have faulty or inconsistent information, our decisions aren't as informed as they could be. I had a lot of faulty and inconsistent information about family, about picking a spouse, about how to make a writing career, about what makes someone mentally ill, about higher education, about just about everything in the world around me. And, being of an impetuous, nearly Type-A nature, I often leapt before I looked or explored.
If this is the case--that I had faulty information and could not make the best decisions for myself--do I blame everyone in my life who provided me with all that misinformation? No. I really can't do that. My parents didn't set out to harm me, to give me faulty, inconsistent information about life. It was all they knew because it was all they were taught. I can forgive them.
But can I forgive myself? Can I forgive my own impetuous nature? Can I forgive myself for what appeared to be good decisions at the time, but now, in retrospect, could be viewed as seriously bad decisions? Sure, I can sit and wish I had the information then that I have now, but that isn't going to change anything here and now. I can sit back and cry in my proverbial beer, but that isn't going to change anything either. Actually, sitting and crying only causes inertia and depression and more regret. The past can't be changed--all we really have is the future. I am not near death and there is still significant time in my life to do quite a bit. It may be more difficult--everybody likes a fresh young face, and there's some bloom off this rose--but there's the trade-off of wisdom for youth. In that department, I've gained a lot.
Forgiveness is a slow process. But each day I spend doing something more than I could have, something different than I would have, and forgetting about what I shouldn't have, I can eventually get to that point where it is okay that my youth didn't prepare me for the disappointments of a life lived outside the lines of conventionality. I can forgive myself for the fears that kept me from accepting that, deep down, I kinda wanted everything that everybody else wanted but didn't think was possible for me.
And I don't have to try to put myself in a time machine to try to get back to some magic point where I can erase all the regrets, like so many people try to do nowadays.
Life is long. Regrets are crippling. And hope for things being better only comes to me once I begin forgive myself. The past was what it was. It could not have been any different because I simply did not know better.
The future, full of its own strange magic, is another matter entirely.
posted by Tish Grier at 1:50 PM
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