I wish I would have paid more attention. To all things. To people, to books, to music, to news. I feel like 35 years has flown by in a breeze and I don’t have enough memories to satisfy all those years. I don’t remember enough of it. I shudder to think of what I will forget in the next 35 years, so I’m trying so very hard to pay more attention to my surroundings now. To make goofy mental notes of all things that amaze me. My baby sleeping in my arms and the smell of her skin. My son’s stellar ability to make me smile no matter what else is happening in my world. The way they look at me like I can do no wrong. Those things matter.
I wish I would have picked a different major in college. I wish I had a true calling, a skill that I could impart on others to help them. I wish I had traveled more. I realize I still have time to fulfill a lot of these wishes, but it seems that my window of opportunity to do so gets smaller and smaller each day. I don’t appreciate that feeling at all. Kind of feels tricky, like the joke’s on me or something.
I wish I would have listened to my gut. Always. It has never led me astray, and yet when it tries to warn me of impending hurt, I never listen. I shuffle it away like a girlish fear instead of really listening. Trust me people, your gut? It won’t lie to you. It is you, and you have believe that you wouldn’t intentionally hurt yourself. So listen to it, dammit. It’s right. It is always right. My lesson has been learned many times over on this theory- but never again. You hear me, gut? Never again. Your word is THE word. My gut is my gospel from here on out. 35 years of avoiding it has yet to serve me well.
Sometimes I wish I would have had my children sooner. I had my first at roughly 31 and my second at 34. I’m not too old to enjoy them of course, but I’m also not young enough to keep up with them as well as I would like to. On the flip side of that though, is the fact that having them keeps me young (to a degree). Kids are so amazing. The things they give you far outweigh anything you can give them. I wish I would have enjoyed that second pregnancy more. But good god did I get huge. Hard to enjoy anything when you’re a fucking beached whale with feet that look like Rocky Dennis’s head. Just sayin.
I wish I would have started writing sooner. It’s cathartic and important. I wish I would have trusted my own ability to put it out there and wait for the feedback. But I was scared. Still scared at times. But my gut tells me it’s good, and she never lies to me. So there you go.