Let’s start by saying that I’m a well of regret. When I was so much younger and believed that the world was my oyster, I told my mom that I wasn’t going to waste my time on regret. I thought that the poor choice was worth the wisdom gained and that the bad experience added color and depth to my life. I wish I was saying that now instead of when I was 20 and had no business saying it.
Don’t get me wrong; the sentiment is reasonable, even admirable. Still, at 20, I was yet to do much living and only understood what I was spouting off in theory. I certainly no longer believe it. Some choices have such profoundly unfortunate consequences that they cannot be simply shrugged off as teachable moments.
But this post isn’t about my regrettable choices.
When it comes to risks taken but not regretted… I had a hard time coming up with one. With my propensity for negativity, my mind hastily went to the risks I do regret taking (and even risks I regret not taking) instead of the other way around. And then, mindset or otherwise, I almost got a hernia coming up with a risk that turned out to be a clear win. Thankfully, I managed to dredge up three.
How about this? I risked enrolling in a school in a city I was not familiar with. All my friends were all about Madrid because it was where it was at. They wanted to be in Madrid for the prestige of the capital, I suppose. I spent several days in Madrid with them, and the summer heat was even worse than Manila at that time (mainly because it was already the rainy season over here – I don’t think a Madrid summer could ever beat a Manila summer, of which I’m in the sweltering throes right now. Current heat index should be around 41-42 degrees. That’s Manila though. In the rice plains, it could reach a sizzling 47 degrees. They said even Satan was complaining). Anyway, I chose to study in Santander, which was actually nicely cool and even nippy in the shade. It was a little scary floundering around by myself for the first couple of days, but I made friends and put in a conscious effort to participate and socialize. Studying in Santander is one of my decisions I’m most fond of.
Here’s another one. My family and I risked joining campaign rallies at the tail end of the pandemic to support our country’s current rightful president. We wore protective items and tried to stay in the periphery of the throng since we had young children. That should indicate the degree of support we had for our candidate. She didn’t win, but it’s very clear that it was an unfair election. Two evil factions (once united but now ridiculously warring) made a deal and joined forces to put the incumbent (who should have been disqualified from the get-go and who was declared winner despite all the irregularities and anomalies in the ballot) in power. Notwithstanding the immensely disappointing result, joining the campaign was a wonderful experience. I’d do it all over again even knowing the outcome. And, if you’re wondering, we didn’t get Covid. Not from the rallies anyway.
The third one is a kind of a biggie. Still living out the consequence of that risk, I flipflop on the matter of regret. All I have to say about it is, married life is a complicated covenant. A lot of it is gray area. There’s so much heartbreak involved even if none of the dealbreakers were realized. I was unhappy, suffering from postpartum depression, and dealing with the first of the autism diagnoses at the worst of it, but I risked sticking it out when I saw clear intentional efforts at improvement. I suppose even good novels require conflict to achieve substance.
I know I’m the main character of my story, but when I shifted my perspective so it’s not just all about me and my sacrifices, my appreciation and gratitude increased, our family became stronger, and I became better at all my roles. It’s a whole lot of work and romance is edged off to the wayside as a deeper form of love takes hold. You go through a lot of things that you never bargained on, making that initial decision.
Knowing what I know now, I might not make the same choice, but that’s not how life works. In the thick of it, you have to stand by your choice and do what you can to make it work. When things are less than ideal, it’s a risk to go on of course. If it reaches a toxic point (and this is still miles away from being unsafe), then you bail. Right now, when things are harmonious, I have no regrets, but I’m skittish and sensitive. All it takes is for somebody to act like a jerk and the sense of regret washes over me. Through the years, I’ve noted that it’s pretty temporary. Or, at least, its intensity is. I’m not sure if the resentment ever goes away. It certainly flares up when dealing with a new hurt. And it’s clearly two-way. I like to think that I’m a saint, but I can be a jerk too. Like I said, marriage is hard.
This Small Life 