“Oops!”
“Crap, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I can’t do two things at once.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“I’m too socially awkward to avoid this decision.”
Have you ever looked back and thought, “What was I thinking?” Not about major life decisions – those are regrets, and we can’t camp there; we can only learn from them and do better next time. No, I’m talking about the stuff we do that we wish we hadn’t done but didn’t have major consequences.
A regret I have is passing on the offer to be a residential assistant at WVU my sophomore year. I got in quite a lot of trouble my freshman year, but the dorm director saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself and asked me to be an RA the following year, which would have saved me thousands of dollars in student loans. This is something that had long-term consequences, and while, again, I am not camping there, for purposes of illustration, I’ll dig up those bones for a minute.
A regert I have around that same time period, on the other hand, is the time my roommate and I drove to Key West for Spring Break and I was putting sunscreen on my arms and shoulders, then used that hand to wipe sweat from my forehead. A few hours later, distinct outlines of my fingers glared on my forehead in stark contrast to the redness of the rest of my face. Embarrassing? Yea, absolutely. Life altering? Not so much.
One day when Ayden was an infant, Addison and I were hanging out playing with her sticker book. She thought it would be funny to put a sticker on my arm, so she did that a few times and then I thought it would be cute to put stickers on Ayden’s tiny face and arms and take a picture. We giggled while he sat clueless in his bouncy seat, oblivious that he was a human canvas. After I took the picture, I took off the stickers, but to my horror, they left red patches in the exact shape of the sticker in every spot I had placed them. I panicked, called the pediatrician who told me to give him a bath and wash off the glue. (I blamed Addison when I explained what happened. Dr. Damran, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for lying.) He was as good as new and I learned never to put stickers on my babies.
Fast forward a few years and I decided I was going to roller blade like I used to when I was 20. “Here’s some knee and elbow pads,” my friend suggested, but I told her I didn’t need them and away I went as Addison, Ayden and Avery watched. At first everything was fine. I was having fun. But then I got cocky – I decided to go down the road and down a small but slightly steeper-than-it-looked hill. Let’s just say I still have scars on my knees and elbows.
A few years ago while visiting my family in Florida I decided to take my sister’s bike on a ride: 19 miles with zero issues. I was about a mile from her house when I missed the turn. The path was narrow, but instead of getting off the bike and turning it around like a reasonable person, I chose to try to make the turn. The tire caught the edge of the paved pathway and I started unintentionally heading toward the metal grated culvert, so I had to bail off. My sternum landed squarely on the middle of the handle bars, my right hand got trapped between the grip and the pavement and the spikes of the pedals embedded themselves in my leg. That last mile was long. I could feel the wetness of the blood under my hand as I rode to her house, handlebars crooked and blood dripping down my leg. I can only imagine what people thought as they passed me. The flight home was miserable. I ended up going to the ER to make sure I wasn’t broken. The doctor came in and said “I’ve got good news and bad news – the good news is, nothing is broken. The bad news is, you aren’t 20 anymore.”
Amnesia is real, though, because only last year I was on a horse and he went down on his knees, throwing me over the saddle on to his neck, clinging for dear life because I wasn’t paying attention. I had a death grip while I tried to figure out what to do. All of a sudden I could feel he was about ready to make the decision for me so I bailed and landed on the frozen ground squarely on my rib cage, but because there’s something deeply wrong with me, I rode 4 hours anyway. By the time I got back I thought I was going to die. This time I was legitimately broken, and before he could say a word, I told the doctor I was well aware I wasn’t 20 anymore. That regert made its presence known for a solid 4 months.
My car is riddled with regerts. One time I got stuck in the car wash, resulting in the passenger side gouge. That one upset me so much I couldn’t even talk about it for 3 days. Then a few weeks later a deer hit my STOPPED car. Why was I stopped, you ask? I was letting her family cross in front of me but she wasn’t paying attention and crashed directly into the driver’s side passenger door. But honestly, I couldn’t even be that mad at her because let’s face it: Same, deer, same.
A more recent regert happened at 7-11 a few weeks ago when I decided to splurge and try the once-upon-a-time-viral Dubai chocolate bar. It was on the counter staring at me one morning and I thought I would indulge both my sweet tooth and curiosity. I figured it would be about five dollars, which is plenty for a candy bar, but when the cashier rang me up it was closer to $25. Instead of just putting it back like a normal person, I froze and stared at her in shock as she waited for me to pay, which I did. I mean…it was good, but not $25 good.
The point is, we are all human. Humans do dumb stuff sometimes. The goal is to keep the dumb stuff to a minimum and do our very best not to cross from regert to regret. That is easier said than done and takes intentionality on our part. We will make mistakes, but it’s what we do after that matters more than anything. For instance, always double check dimensions when ordering office supplies online. Need a 5’x8′ dry erase board, anyone?
Roasted Peanuts 