wishing for 9 lives
kelly | 28 December 2005 - 5:41pm
I guess it's pretty standard this time of year to reflect on one's life. I'll admit that I never used to do this - I've always known right where I'm headed and exactly how I'm going to get there, and so there was never any need to stop and check the map.
I'd decided the destination in high school. I entered college confident that I'd found the man I wanted to marry and confident I'd chosen a career for which I was perfectly suited. And I wasn't wrong in either case. When I left teaching, it wasn't because I wasn't right for it. To the contrary, I'd say teaching is what I do better than anything else. But turns out, it wasn't right for me. So I took a detour, not knowing where it would lead. I'm still not sure where it will lead. And five years ago, that not knowing would have been too much for me to handle. But now, I revel in the freedom.
Because the thing is, I'm not the same person I was in high school. Or college. Or last year. And that's good and that's normal and that's life. But as a result, I sometimes catch myself wishing that I was navigating an entirely different map.
Remember those Choose Your Own Adventure novels? I always read each of those books multiple times so I could choose a different option every time and eventually get to experience them all. I had to know what all the possibilities were, what all the endings might be. And when I think of my life, I see it as a Choose Your Own Adventure. Except I don't get to try out all the options. I don't get to do it all. After I live this life, I don't get to go back again and have a different adventure. This time, I actually have to CHOOSE. And with each choice, I create more possibilities but I close the doors to just as many.
Sometimes when I really think about what I want to have experienced in my only life, it seems very clear to me that I won't be satisfied if I don't live the lives I long for. In those moments, relocating to Paris doesn't seem so far-fetched. Dropping everything to write a novel seems perfectly plausible. I only get one chance, so why the hell not go for it? The problem is that many of the adventures I want aren't compatible. I can't live my life in close proximity to my family and also experience the romance of starting over in a new place. I can't experience motherhood and also choose a child-free life. I can't be a teacher and a National Geographic photographer and a novelist and a doctor. I can't be a sexy single and still share my life with the man I love, a man who, incidentally, I believe is one of many 'soul mates' I might have met. I can't possibly live all the lives I can dream up for myself. And that kills me because I hate missing out on anything. I hate being held back - and yet what's holding me back are the other things I want for myself.
I know the answer is to be happy with what you have. And I am in no way suggesting that I want to swap lives. But, to be honest, I'm not sure I can feel fulfilled knowing I'll never get to experience all the stuff I'm missing. I guess that's the tragedy of mortality - that looking back over a lifetime and treasuring all the things that happened all the while wondering about all the things that didn't. That couldn't.
Awhile back Cat wrote a post that really resonated with me. I don't think I've found what I'm looking for, either, but I guess that's because I'm looking for too many things.
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"Of all the words in the English tongue/The saddest are these: "What I might have done ..."
You think it's painful contemplating these things in your mid-twenties? Try having those thoughts race through your mind in your fifties.
I can think of countless times that two roads diverged in my own private yellow wood and I was forced to choose - take up on one and leave the other behind. Often you don't even agonize - the choice seems clear and natural and obvious, so you make it and only years later do you realize what you gave up to get where you are.
But that kind of thinking is a recipe for a life of frustration and regret, because for every one of those diverging roads we don't take, there is the mystery of what we didn't experience - but we tend to only look at the positives we gave up. Common sense, though, tells us that every road has potholes, and some have trees fallen across and bridges washed out and tigers lurking in the bushes. We don't live without pain or frustration while travelling the roads we did choose - we'd be fools to assume the going would be that much smoother by any other route.
Explore, investigate, be bold, be rash and unpredictable and as fearless as you can be as you make your choices. But, having made them, don't look back with regrets over roads not taken. And don't wish you could have two or ten or a hundred different lives, because frankly, most of us have our hands full handling the one we've been given.
We get one life - no dress rehearsal, no practice round, no do-overs. The joy in life is NOT knowing the outcome of decisions, good or bad, in advance. Game plans always look great on paper - but you'll never see 75,000 people gathered in a stadium to read. They want to watch the players play, because the excitement comes when things don't go according to the plan.
Any idiot can get it right the tenth time around. What makes a remarkable human being is the determination to put every ounce of effort into doing it as right as you can with your first and only shot.
I'd say ... so far, so good.
I envy those people that roam the earth in search of fulfilling their dreams. Why did I have to choose to live a "safe" life? Really, I'm nothing more than a chicken shit.
i just try to convince`myself that regret isn't productive.
As always, Nilbo, thanks for your comment. And I'm proud to say that, so far anyway, I have no regrets. But in looking at the future (which I make it a policy not to do very often), I realize that there are going to be trade-offs. There already have been trade-offs. And trade-offs piss me off because, well, I want it all. And I think this year was the first time I realized that, despite what my parents have always told me, I can't have it all. No one can. And that sorta sucks.
Yeah, I know what you mean, yonz. I've set up a safe life for myself, one I chose before I was 20, and it turns out I'm not as much of a safety girl as I used to be. But breaking out of it would destroy everything that means something to me, and of course I value all of those things. And so here we are...
I agree, mrtl. And I can honestly say I don't have regret - I wouldn't change a thing. But that doesn't mean I don't ever mourn the lives I'll never live. Or sometimes wonder what might have been.
This post sounds exactly like the thoughts that often bounce around inside my own head. I also settled down relatively early, and I have discovered myself to be less of a safety person than I used to be too. I often wonder how I would be different as a person if things had worked out differently in my life. And I hate closing doors, but now I have made enough choices that I'm really on a specific path that is hard to deviate from. Those realizations come to my mind too--I'll probably never live in New York, or in Europe. I know what my career will be...there's no choices left, no mystery. I guess it's a matter of finding the adventure within the boundaries of the life I've chosen.
Yeah, so here I sit in my little cubicle, hot tears pricking at my eyelids but I hold them back... you know, because EMBARRASSING? Obviously this is something I struggle with ALL the time. I must admit, I was feeling your Choose Your Own Adventure analogy because I did the same exact thing when I was younger and isn't it just so WEIRD how similar our experiences are?! Sheer craziness, I tell you. Although it took me nine years to figure out that though I was SO right for teaching, it was SO not right for me (you = wise), and I married my COLLEGE sweetheart (13 years TOMORROW! GAH!), but still. We could be freaking twins, that's all I'm saying. :0
Just recently TGIM and I watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin (OMG! "You know how I know you're gay?...") and at the end the cast got all crazy performing this hilarious Bollywood version of "Age of Aquarius" and I was like, "Oh! OH! I want to be an actor so BADLY!" because it just looked like so much fun, you know? So ME. And it actually hurt-- like ached, you know?-- because I knew of course that that would never happen and I would totally never be appearing on The Tonight Show, trading witty banter with Jay Leno and making out with Jensen Ackles in the Green Room. It was so hard to sleep that night. How crazy is that?
Verging into TOO LONG territory here, so what I really meant to say was, "Tell it, sistah. TELL. IT." And AMEN.
Oh. Em. Gee... This is embarrassing. Regarding the whole "13 years tomorrow" thing? It has been brought to my attention (in the form of a phone call from TGIM) that what I meant to say was "13 years TODAY."
Yeah.
In re-reading my comment - and reading your reply - it's clear I was circling around the point but sorta missed it. You're not looking back with regret - you're looking forward and anticipating later regret. Which is completely and utterly understandable and something many of us do.
Not all of us, though. Those who do have the world spread out in front of them and choices left and right are amazingly privileged. It is a luxury beyond measure to be able to consider and discard choices when such a overwhelming percentage of the world's population has no choice at all.
I guess I'm warning you against feeling too too badly about having to choose at some point in the future between paths that will lead you to different degrees of joy and fulfilment. It's OK, especially at your age, to want it all (although, if you had it all, where would you store it?). But if settling for "most" depresses you, there comes a time when you give your head a little shake and remember that so many people settle for "none" and still live rich and meaningful lives.
At some point, the key to happiness is being satisfied with an acceptable level of ecstasy.
Man, I didn't want to think today. But you done gone and made me do it. I went and reread Cat's post plus all the comments then this one again then all these comments. Once, in university, there were these tryouts for a production of the musical, HAIR. And I knew hair like the back of my hand. I had known every song for years. I loved all the characters. And I carried the paper with the audition information on it for weeks. And I went to the audition, even thought I had no real musical theatre experience.
When I got there, there were all these people standing outside the auditorium, and they looked great. They were holding out pieces of sheet music and singing to themselves. They were stretching and laughing and talking. It seemed as if they all knew each other. And I stood there for a minute, and watched them. And in that minute I got scared. I couldn't read music. I had never been in a musical before. I wasn't dressed for any kind of stretching.
So I left.
And went home! And that night I wrote a one line poem.
"One day I will wake up screaming,
For all the things I didn't do."
Morbid, eh? The angst. It sucks. And most days, all there is to do is snap out of it. I learned from this audition. And sometimes I do snap out of it. And it's so good. So you hang in there, Kelly. I have faith in you. That you will knock off many things on your list over your lifetime.
Becasue you have hit the nail on the head,I have this urge to call you or email you to discuss this then I realized that I don't know the # or email..
I have learned more about you on this one post than probably the past 30. I wish I had some word of wisdom to direct towards you but sadly I do not. Wanting it all is a very good thing. The roads we travel are always littered with missded opportunities, we should be careful to not trip over them.
Oh, and the pain that Cat talks about in regards to the acting thing. I feel the same every day.
Oh Kelly, that is IT! You put into words the feelings have have deep down inside. How can I do it all? By choosing one path I close off the possiblities of others. I made major choices in my life at such a young age (I was a wife and mother by 19). I have a good life with someone I love, but I know I could have been so much more.
Aw, Di... you are SO MUCH MORE already, girlfriend.
:)
First, I just want to thank all of you for your comments. It's good to be understood.
"I guess it's a matter of finding the adventure within the boundaries of the life I've chosen." - I really like that, Ern. That's a great perspective to have, and one I'll remind myself of often. We're alike in a lot of ways, so I'm not surprised that you relate to this. But for some reason, I'm comforted by the fact that you do.
I know the ache, cat. I know the thinking that something is so ME and yet also knowing it's completely beyond my reach. (Wasn't always, but is now.) And for a moment, desperately plotting how just maybe I can get it within my reach again but then realizing what that would mean - what I'd have to give up - and deciding it's not worth it and yet still resenting the fact that I've lost it as an option forever. Shew - heavy. By the way, I'm thankful for you - that you get me. (Also, happy anniversary to you and TGYM!)
Well put, Nilbo. And yes, when I worry about these things it's always in anticipation of looking back over my life as a 90-year old and having regrets then, which of course leads me to wonder what I should do NOW to avoid that. I'm not actually fearful of not being happy, because I know that many paths lead to that. I'm just mourning the fact that one life isn't enough which, I guess on some level, is me struggling with mortality in general.
That poem is it in a nutshell, Amy. Thanks for your comment - you soothe me. :)
william, I'm sending you my info. For future reference. :) And you say you don't have any words of wisdom but I think being careful not to trip over missed opportunities is eloquent advice indeed.
Di, do you know the Reba McEntire song "Is There Life Out There?" I listened to her growing up and I sometimes think about the lyrics of that song. Your comment reminded me of it again. I think those of us who made major decisions when we were young are especially prone to thinking about what we might be missing out on. Not to say we'd do it differently - but having locked in so early, I think we can't help but wonder these things.
Word, cat.
Wow, many of my very favorite people are here, saying very intelligent things, and I'm feeling sick and can't really concentrate on what everyone has said. But I do want to deposit my 2 cents. Choosing "safety" backfires, because it's illusion. When you think you've got everything in place -- career, partner, whatever -- life will laugh in your face and show you that safety is pure illusion. No one gets to go all the way through this life safely. There is too much that's out of our control. I didn't know this at your age, kalki (yonzie, et. al.), but God, I know it so very well now. And I'm not saying this in a pessimistic way; indeed, once I got that lesson, life became a bit easier. Shit that you cannot imagine in your worst nightmares will come into your life. But it will be OK, because joy that you cannot imagine in your best daydreams will find you, too.
Oh, Kalki. I know.
And isn't it CRAZY how many other people apparently feel the same way??
And thank GOD for wise people like Susie who have been here before us and can say "it will all be OK" :)
the first year out of college i used to say, "i feel lost because there are so many possibilities. in college i knew the goal was to graduate, but now, i don't know what the goal is." it just takes time for that feeling to go away, it took 6 years for me though it pops up every now and then. even if life was a "choose your own adventure" book who's to say we wouldn't be pissed about the finiteness (is that a word) of those few choices. here's to not having a clue what the life has in store. and happy new year.
Wow! This is such a universal, cosmic even, experience. As I tumble towards 40 and do the whole where I've been, where the HELL am I going routine, I find myself feeling/thinking all these things. Unlike some, I did not start out with road map though, or a preplanned destination. I kinda tripped and fell all over the place. Sure, some things I would do differently now, but I realize that it's the key to who you are. The sum of your experiences shape the choices you make later on. Assuming you are a balanced, selfaware, mature-ish individual that gleans something from all your choices, good or bad.
Looking forward, I don't know what life has in store, because like Susie said,
"Shit that you cannot imagine in your worst nightmares will come into your life. But it will be OK, because joy that you cannot imagine in your best daydreams will find you, too."
I'll take each day as it comes and make the choices then too. Cherish what you have now, know who you are today. I love what Ern said, "find(ing) the adventure within the boundaries of the life I've (you've) chosen."
As for Cat, Kalki and William and your dream of acting....Life is a stage, you are performing your best work now.
Nilbo, Susie and Greenie pretty much summarized what I would have said to you. You have many choices in your life. This is a precious gift. Regreting the options we rejected for those that we chose only lessons the joys gained through the choices we made. Life is exciting and every day can be an adventure. Second guessing choices already made for fear of future regrets will not bring any satisfaction. I feel that I am rambling maybe because I do not completely relate to all that you are feeling. Every day is a joyous gift to me. I feel lucky to have already done as much as I have in my life and look forward excitedly to all the unknown adventures yet to come. My blog tagline probably best sums it all up for me, "It's been a long and winding road, but I wouldn't have had it any other way."
Wow. So much wisdom here. What resonated with me the most was Susie's comment as this year I had the shock of being diagnosed with cancer at the age of 35. The biggest mistake I have ever made is thinking I had plenty of time to do everythng I wanted to. I always said to myself that I would never let fear enter the equation of any life choice I had to make but after reading your post and thinking about it some I realized that I often let fear creep in thinking about being able to cram it all in. Like you, that one life was not enough. That maybe I was more focussed on what I wasn't doing than on what I actually was. I have decided that I will never be able to fit it all in but that it is more important to me to do what I choose to do with mindfulness and joy even if it turns out not exactly what I had hoped it would be. Quality not quantity. To just be thankful I had the opportunity to do it.
You're right, Susie. And I'm a control freak, so that's going to be a hard lesson for me to learn. But I can also see how that lesson can be liberating.
Your first two sentences felt like a hug, Andrea. :) And it is crazy (and comforting) to know that so many people out there can relate. Ah, the beauty of blogging...
anna, I also was overwhelmed by the possibilities, which I think is why I formed a plan so young. Nowadays, I'm energized by the choices but overwhelmed by the impossibility of doing them all. And you're right - no matter how many adventures I might get, I'll still want more. That's the nature of the Want It All mentality. (But I'm not yet convinced that's a bad thing.) Happy New Year to you, too, dear.
Glad you're here, greenie. I was eager to hear your thoughts. Only in the past few years have I decided that NOT having a road map is actually the best way to go. Here's to throwing the map out the window. XOX
John Boy, every day is a joyous gift to me as well and I sure as heck wish I had more than just a lifetime of them. I'm not second-guessing my choices. I'm just wishing I didn't have to make them because I'd like to do it all and not miss out on anything. That isn't possible in only one life - one choice precludes another. Thus, wishing for 9 lives...
Thanks for that, Von. You get exactly what I'm saying, and your last three sentences really speak to me. I appreciate your perspective.