How Would Your Life Be Better If You Could Go Back?

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“The most useful form of time travel would be to go back a year or two and rectify the mistakes we made.” — Matt Lucas

Last week, the newsletterish was about projection and how we can sometimes hurt each other with our own wounds — and we hurt ourselves, too.

As I sometimes do, it got me thinking about the “what ifs” of taking what I’ve learned throughout my life and going back for a do-over. I don’t mean it in a regretful way; in spite of the outrageous, chaotic, roller coaster life I’ve lived, I’m grateful for all it’s taught me. Yes, even the parts that hurt. Especially those, because they’re the best teachers.

I’m also grateful for the cool and unusual things I’ve seen and done. So no, I don’t mean this little exercise in a wistful, “my life sucks” kinda way. I have a great life! It’s purely a curiosity thing. I just think that sometimes, it would be fun to imagine what might be different if I could go back to my teens, say, around when I left home at 16, or maybe in the few years just after that. What would my life look like? What path would it have taken? Where would it have gone? Know what I mean, Vern?

Oh! I know how to explain it! Like those interactive films! I didn’t know there was such a thing until I inadvertently stumbled on a chick flick one over the Christmas holidays last year. At certain points in the film, a couple of options popped up and whichever one I chose was the route the story took.

Just because I do have that uh-oh curiosity streak (you’ve just gotta include “uh-oh” when curiosity is involved. Or at least, I do!), I kept going back to previous parts and choosing another option and redoing the story, changing it in different ways. It was great!

So that’s what I mean for this li’l, “Wouldja go back and have a do-over if you could take your life lessons with you?” contemplation.

Over the years, I’ve sometimes thought about different careers I’d have had or educational paths I’d have taken. Like getting a degree in music, or becoming a lawyer, although the one I’ve thought about most often and have settled in my mind is that I would have been a carpenter. Ohhhh, how I would love to have those skills!! I’ve always wished I could build a cozy home in a rustic style, and build furniture and make things that look like antiques. Yep, that is most definitely the career path I’d have taken. Carpentry. 😍 Sigh…

One of the things I think about is how many people have been hurt because of my emotional wounds — myself included. I wish I could undo the harm I caused others, especially my children, because of my choices. I look back now and can’t imagine why I truly did not understand that they might have been hurt or upset by some of the things I did. Like getting married 473 times.

Sure, I always thought they were good guys who would be kind to my kids and would bring something to their lives that they needed. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Not to say that there was never any good as a result of those marriages; of course there was. But they were absolutely not what I’d intended. And you know what they say about the paving on the road to Hell…

I’ve also burned a lot of bridges because of my emotions and my thoughts. Couldn’t just bite my tongue and walk away from situations in which it really didn’t matter, or from the person who might not have even been particularly important, now could I? Nope. I had to go and say what I thought or get bent out of shape about stuff that at the end of the day, didn’t matter a damn.

And on way too many occasions, I was looking behind me later and desperately wishing I hadn’t burned that dang bridge.

I think about some of the wickedly blunt, long letters I wrote to my parents (well, usually directed at my mother because she was always the instigator of whatever had upset me). I’d drive over to their house and stuff the letter in the mailbox and get the hell out of there as fast as I could. And then I’d wait.

Did I ever get the resolution I needed? Did I ever hear an apology for whatever offending and verbally abusive behaviour had sent me and my pen down that road of not remotely helpful self-expression?

Not on your life. For all the hateful, vicious, rotten things my mother ever said, she never once apologised. She never accepted that she’d done anything wrong, even when I’d try to explain why I was so upset. She would only defend, justify, and defend some more.

Yet over and over again, at times I’d be so fed up I’d just have to write another letter. I didn’t have the nerve to say what I thought; years of being intimidated, insulted and verbally battered had taken their toll. So I fought back in the only way I knew — writing my thoughts and feelings. My mother got my angry, how dare you blasts with both barrels, right between the eyes. I figured I was justified in my anger. Well, I know I was. But I wish I could go back and handle it in appropriate ways.

And I think about opportunities I passed up or just plain missed because I was drowning in anxiety disorders, such as agoraphobia, OCD and panic attacks, to name a few. Gosh, I’d love to go back and have more fun! I’d love to sink my teeth into life and enjoy it instead of being so terrified of something bad happening, I didn’t allow opportunities for much that was good either. That’s probably one of the worst ways in which I hurt myself. And the full list of reasons would take another entire post!

Yep. Having lots of fun would be right up there at the top of my list.

Illustration by Witchy