Living Without Regret

Sometimes, it feels like my teens and twenties and even thirties were just a couple years ago. Then I catch my reflection and realize - oh, right - time has definitely passed. A lot of time. And yet, in some strange way, it also feels like it’s been standing still.

I have an almost 20-year-old and a 17-year-old now. It’s surreal to look at them and think about what my mom must have seen when she was in my shoes. Times are different. The world is different. And yet, so much is still the same. My hope every day as a parent is that I can help them sidestep some of the mistakes and heartaches I went through, even though I know they’ll face their own moments - ones I can’t protect them from.

Sometimes, when they’re heading out to do “teen things,” I have to laugh. They think I have no idea what goes on. But I do. We partied, too. We went to houses without parental supervision. We made questionable choices, and sometimes luck was the only thing standing between us and bigger consequences. Some of those consequences came with a side of regret - and a few carry the kind of quiet heartache you keep to yourself for decades.

They know I was pregnant before I was married (kind of hard to hide when your firstborn is 18 months older than your anniversary). But there are other things they don’t know, because it's hard to talk about. Although someday I’m sure we will discuss it. Like how I seriously considered eloping at 18. Or how I spent a couple of years in my early twenties drinking way more than I should have. How I was pregnant when I was around 20 or 21 and how I once turned down a big job around 23 because I was scared I couldn’t handle the responsibility (the timelines blur a little bit that far back). How I’ve blurted out the wrong thing in more awkward moments than I can count. And those are just those early years. The list could go on - mistakes, embarrassments, lessons learned as I've made my way to 45. They're going to have their own list someday, no matter how much their parents try and help.

Writing helps me revisit those moments with years of perspective and a stronger backbone. I can picture what I should have done, what I would do now, and sometimes even release a bit of the shame that’s lingered for far too long. Some of them even end up in my novels. And sometimes, you have to say or do things just so you can move on, and accept that you may never have resolution or closure or forgiveness, and that's okay.

In between the stumbles and growing pains, there’s so much joy. I get to watch them chase opportunities I never even imagined at their age. I see their kindness, their humor, the way they already stand up for what matters to them. We laugh - hard - over inside jokes no one else would understand. We take spontaneous late-night drives for milkshakes. We celebrate wins big and small, and we’re building a collection of memories that I know we’ll all look back on and smile about. Those moments remind me that while life is full of mistakes, it’s also overflowing with the good stuff, and that’s what makes the whole journey worth it.

At the end of the day, I hope my kids know this: it’s okay to mess up. And it’s ok to smile again and live your life. That’s when you grow. I hope they don’t drag their mistakes around like a backpack full of bricks. Life’s a one-time trip. It’s a waste to spend it replaying “what ifs” when every choice we’ve made - good or bad - has led us right here.

The goal isn’t a perfect record. The goal is to live, to learn, and to keep going… without regret.