If we spend too much time thinking about how our lives don’t match up
to the dreams of our younger selves, then we are bound to be disappointed.
~ Elyzabeth Wilder
I love that quote from Elyzabeth Wilder’s terrific guest post, What Do You Hunger For? It reminds me of a friend who, many years ago, felt deep regret at the way various pieces of her life had fallen into place. “This just isn’t where I thought I’d be at this point,” she said. “I mean, when you were younger, didn’t you always think you’d have more?”
That was certainly true of me when I was younger–I can remember telling my father that I absolutely planned to be rich someday. But life takes each of us on a journey that doesn’t usually allow us to see the end of the road. Even when you think you know exactly where you’re headed, that’s often not where you end up.
Today’s post is a list of things I don’t regret, in spite of the fact that most of them have led me away from the life I dreamed of when I was younger. It would be so easy to think about that life I envisioned for myself and consider this life I’m living a failure. But I prefer to think of it as the life I’ve chosen. Because the truth is . . .
I don’t regret my career choice.
I’m never going to get rich being an English professor at a small liberal arts college, that’s for sure. But I can’t imagine another job that would give me more personal satisfaction. It can be frustrating, certainly–a small faculty means more work for each of us, more classes to teach, less time for writing my own work.
But being a faculty member at a small school lets me get to know my students as their whole, human selves. I meet them as first-year students and watch many of them grow up over the course of four years. Being able to hear people tell me that I made a difference in their lives more than balances out the negatives, whatever they might be.
I don’t regret investing in myself.
I wouldn’t have become a professor without the help of student loans, but my younger self never imagined I would be in the position of paying off student loan debt until I retire. In that dream life, I always imagined the money flowing in, not out. But I have friends who are doctors and lawyers in the same situation (though the ratio of money in/money out is different for them, of course), so I know I’m not unique.
Unless you’re lucky enough to be born into money, the life you want usually requires payment up front. And te prospect of being debt-free wouldn’t change my career trajectory, even if I could go back and do everything over.
I don’t regret being less than famous.
I’ve had the privilege of studying with some very well-known writers over the course of my education and professional life. One of the things I’ve learned from them is that fame has nothing to with you. It has to do with a completely uncontrollable set of circumstances. I have read many excellent books that few people have ever heard about. I’ve read many, many awful books that have sold millions of copies before being turned into movies and earning more money for their authors.
Making money on a book doesn’t prove that you’re a good writer. Being a name that people recognize doesn’t prove anything at all. Except, perhaps, that you got extraordinarily lucky.
I don’t regret becoming a mom.
One of the strange things about building a career as a writer in academia is how often you’re told that being a professor, writer, and mother is impossible. (Interestingly, male graduate students rarely hear this.) When I found myself pregnant with my second child during my Ph.D. program, one of my professors said, “You’re either really brave or completely crazy.”
Raising two toddlers while writing a dissertation certainly wasn’t easy. But neither is being a stay-at-home mother. Neither is being the mother of teenagers. Nothing about being a mom is easy. The only relevant question is whether it’s is something you want to do.
And honestly? If I’d had to choose between being a mother and being a professor, I know which one I would have picked.
I don’t regret buying a house.
Owning a home is a huge financial responsibility. Mike and I didn’t fully understand that when we bought our house. I mean, we knew we’d be responsible for the bills–we just didn’t know how many bills there would be.
Growing up in a small town in the middle of actual nowhere, I always dreamed of being a traveler. I imagined myself living a more nomadic life, exploring the world rather than staying in one place. But it turns out that I’m a hardcore homebody, and knowing this house is mine makes me really, really happy.
I don’t regret moving to Texas.
I actually remember the day I applied for the job I’ve now had for 17 years. I was not at all sure that I wanted to move here. Texas was not a place I’d ever imagined myself living. (Texas was, in fact, a place I’d imagined avoiding.) In the end, though, my need for a job outweighed my desire to live elsewhere. We came here planning to stay just as long as we had to. The rest, as they say, is history.
I sometimes joke about how disappointed my younger self would be with the life I’m living–but I’m happier now than I ever was then. I think that’s because I know myself better. And even in those difficult moments when I’m a little disappointed in it, I don’t think of this life as a place where I somehow ended up. I think of it as the place I worked really hard to create.
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