If I could go back and do something over it would be…
…and I’ve gone totally blank, because what *would* I like to do-over?
Would I prefer to have been a well-behaved toddler so that my Mum could’ve contemplated taking me to dance classes without a battle of wills, so that I would have learned to dance and have had some rhythm? No, because a toddler can hardly make that kind of decision – I would have been far too focussed on the ‘now’ and would not have listened to any outside input, even from an older ‘me’.
Would I have tried harder at making friends at school? But then I don’t think that was really an option I had to change – when your home life is one of victimisation and walking on eggshells, you hardly have the chance to develop the social skills to make friends at school – it’s all about survival. Friends are extraneous. But it would have avoided a lot of bullying…
Would I have tried to tell more people what was going on? To reach out? To be reached and understood? No, because again that’s a decision which would have been utterly beyond me – I didn’t really understand that there were people who *didn’t* have a home life like mine – it all began too early, was too engrained.
Would it been better if I hadn’t risen to the bait so many times at home? If I’d just been passive, kept my head down and accepted that this was how things were? Allowed myself a quieter life? That would be disingenuous to my character – I am a fighter, a kicker, a screamer, a never-will-take-this-lying-down-er. It’s only now that I’ve learned that sometimes, in some cases, there’s just no point rising to the bait.
Would it have been better if I’d not listened to that still small voice telling me not to, and been a more outrageous teenager? Would I feel better now if I could parade a list of sexual partners I regret? Would I feel I had embraced life in all its mucky fullness if I could recount my experiences of various illicit drugs? Would I feel I’d had more fun if there were weekends I couldn’t remember and hangovers I could?
Could I have managed as a teenager without turning to food for comfort? Would I have coped without that glorious sensory input as I felt more and more isolated due to events beyond my control? Would I have hated myself any less if I hadn’t been so round? Would I have been any less teased? I still couldn’t have made myself more attractive or given myself an influx of social graces…in any case, I would never have learned how to make people laugh because I never would’ve had to defend myself!
Do I regret my marriage? Goodness knows at some point Husby and I are owed a massive backlog of ‘for better, for richer and in health’, because I’m fairly sure that in our vows we signed up for both sides of the coin and have mostly received the negatives.
Do I regret trying for babies? If we’d’ve known the seriousness of Husby’s condition coupled with my pre-existing familial history of ‘difficulty carrying boys’ would I have bothered? Would I have just saved myself the heartache and pain?
Would I have been the same person I am today if I hadn’t gone through those experiences? It seems doubtful, and yet I am quite certain that Who I Am Today is a good person, with a rich and varied history and a variety of experiences to draw upon. I have been beaten, broken, hammered to hell and refined into something Strong. Something Useful. And somewhere, somehow, there is a Point to it all.
So no, I wouldn’t change any of these things.
I would stick with learning another language.
We began learning French at age 11 and added German at age 13. I scored higher marks in those GCSEs than I did in English. I didn’t enjoy them, but I was good at them. Since then I’ve done a year in night school on Spanish and a year in college on Japanese. I can say a few phrases from a number of languages and know none fluently, and that REALLY bugs me.
I love the exotic feel of listening to someone bilingual. I love to hear the fluent switch between the two languages when on the phone to another speaker. I love the way their brains are just SO FULL of understanding – and expression – in two (or more) tongues.
And I don’t have that.
I feel somewhat bereft, as though I’ve missed a massive opportunity.
If I could do anything over, it’s that – to learn another language to fluency. Because to each and every speaker of Not English, I sound like this:
Summer is daunting.
I have no job.
I have no prospect of having children any time soon.
I am turning 30 soon.
Life is…not how I expected.
Two weeks ago I entered the Yeah Write weekly challenge and, while I didn’t win, I loved the opportunity to stretch myself a little. A 500ish word post on a topic of my choice, but containing a ‘so what?’ point.
I watched and waited the first week, to gauge the calibre of writings submitted to see whether I felt up to the task, and I did, so I joined. And through it I’ve received some good feedback from other members of the challenge.
It sounded kinda offputting at first, to have so many other blogs to review and vote on, but over the course of the best part of a week, it really is quite manageable.
See this week’s entry here: On being an inadvertent life coach
I had an email through saying that our twinned toilet (certificate, presumably) has been dispatched to us. Looking forward to getting the certificate and hanging it up, to show off the picture of our ‘toilet twin’ in Uganda, to provoke interest and possible other ‘twins’ springing up around the groups of people we know. It’s just such a smart idea!
|Not my real bathroom, cos that would be *crazy*|
This is shortly to be a week in which I have a job interview, which may or may not have MASSIVE impact.
1 hour to go.