“If you could return to the past to relive a part of your life, either to experience the wonderful bits again, or to do something over, which part of you life would you return to? Why?” ~ Word Press Daily Prompts
If I could return to the past to relive a part of my life, I would relive my last three years of college.
The one thing that I regret the most was not switching over to a creative writing major. I was not enjoying my psychology or sociology classes towards the end, and thought that I would be wasting my college experience up until then if I let it all go to embrace writing.
Now, a couple years in the future, I can clearly see that sticking to something that I didn’t enjoy was the waste. I wasted valuable resources and energy on subjects and assignments that didn’t bring me joy. I did this because I was afraid of people “nay saying” me for jumping into a career with stiff completion and a high chance of failure.
What I failed to see was that I was letting others define failure for me and I was failing myself by going down a career path that was only going to bring more misery than happiness.
I know now that I don’t really care about money. I don’t shop much, I don’t like to go out. I don’t like to make myself all “pretty.” As long as I can eat, sleep, stay warm, and write, I am happy.
I was fortunate enough to be raised by frugal farmers. I was taught at an early age that shiny and new are not requirements for peace and contentment. Plus, ever since I lived in an old run down farm house; old worn houses feel homey to me. I would much rather live in a rickety old house with crickets in the basement, then a bright white new house surrounded by judgmental neighbors.
I didn’t realize this about myself until now because, at the time, I was surrounded by so many shiny new house lovers and people, who desperately needed a Bentley to feel secure and successful, that I didn’t stop to think if my idea of a great life, was on the same level as theirs.
One thing I don’t regret is leaving the church community I was apart of in my yearly twenties. The community was filled with genuinely good people, and friends I would have gladly kept into my old age, but their perception of the world was one that didn’t help me flourish. They were all inherently striving for wealth and big beautiful lives with expense wall photos and pricey dress pants. They all defined success by middle class existence.
I wanted a life with creative freedom and an overgrown backyard, with lots of little creatures that would visit me on a daily basis, to explore my little life. I wanted to be a creative and I didn’t mind the idea of living in an Adam’s family worthy mansion, fully equipped with ghosts and cobwebs. In fact, it was a private dream of mine. Haunted houses and creepy castles where a muse for me as a kid.