Recently, as I continue in the revolving door of my current holding pattern, I tend to reflect on the past and look for signs of error (I am so my mother’s daughter). Perhaps this is due to the melancholy of approaching the other side of 35 or it’s related to our girl-child’s last year of school.
Where on earth did things go wrong?
Because I can’t help but feel that they are, that somewhere back up the road I seriously screwed up.
Like the planner and list-maker I am (especially when I have time on my hands-never a good thing), I admit to over-analyzing (shocker, no really?) the last 15 yearsof my life.
- Should I have really majored in history? Why didn’t I think practically about so many coaches teaching social studies?
- What was the point of graduating early? Should I have gone to England for a semester instead? Why didn’t I take a communications class or a philosophy class?
- Why didn’t I have a serious talk with my mentor teacher and/or principal about using their connections to get a job?
No, these aren’t all the possible points of error in the recent past, but they are ones I consider to be crossroads (and I didn’t even know it). Somehow, a part of me thinks of 2002 to be the most momentous of these (it’s the last one above); because despite the other two, college was relatively ok and neither of those comes to mind with as much deep-seated anguish.
But the reality is that while 2002 was my own fault completely, my first real experience in the pain of life as an adult came two years prior. I was abruptly fired from a job that had come to me as unexpectedly as it had gone. It was one I truly loved doing and one from which I found a lot of personal joy. The loss of it was so profoundly frustrating that I have always found it difficult to fully discuss it. And thus, I have never been able to heal and may be why I can’t reconcile my present state of affairs (we control freaks don’t like to analyze what we don’t want to talk about).
I am such a ray of sunshine.
Of course it’s no coincidence that I am thinking more this way since our girl-child started her senior year. She and I are on two ends odd the spectrum. I’m the ever-cautious academic with school spirit. She’s smart without even trying, confrontational, no-drama/drama-queen.
The parent in me doesn’t want her to have moments like this in 15 years. I hope she thinks decisions through, since it seems that the small ones have as great an impact as the big ones. But I know her better than my mother ever did me as a teenager. She’ll do her own thing.
She’ll mess up.
She’ll make the wrong decision and have to lived with the consequences.
She’ll, most likely, at some point wish she did something differently.
But the good news is that if she continues to live on, she can make changes and try to do better next time.
Oh crap. Somehow this became inspirational. Guess I have to make some changes and do better next time.