Looking Back

I'm sure to get an eye roll or two for even complaining for a second about my life. On the contrary, it's not my present life that displeases me. It's a particular piece of time that I wished I had made more of an effort to BE somebody. How could I have not have even tried? The disappointment in myself is miles long and the shame I feel for the path I took to not better myself fills me with such sadness. The choice I made to not benefit from education and creativity baffles me. As an adult, I am filled with so much inspiration. I want to do so many things and I struggle daily with not knowing how to get started. I lack the tools and the know how school and experience could have given me, and sadly, I still lack motivation.

Facebook has been hosting a "Occupy Facebook with Art" movement this week, and I have been captivated by so many incredible pieces. The emotions that certain works of art evoke in me always catches me by surprise, and it causes me to ache for the days when I had, well....dreams. 

You know what I'm talking about. The days in your teens and early twenties when you had hopes of what you would become. I could write a small novel on the regrets I have held deep inside and it pains me to know how much time I wasted focusing on such unimportant things.
I made so many mistakes. I was obsessed with boys. I never had the patience to stick with a job or a class or an assignment. I never educated myself. I never had hobbies. I never immersed myself into a project or a passion. I lived in such a fantasy world. There are no "do overs". I could have been anything, and I can't go back.

I didn't finish High School. Not many people know this about me, but I left two months shy of graduation. I just wasn't cutting it. Something as simple as High School was just too much for me to commit to so I dropped out and went right to work. I struggled so much in school and as an adult I now ache for that sort of structure. I wish I was spending my days learning new things, being carefree and only having 45 minute classes to worry about during the day. I managed to land a job, without experience, as a Secretary for a Lawyer downtown when I was 18, and that was it. I have worked ever since. My parents tried to help, they tried to stop me but I was an adult. Frankly, I had given them so much grief during my years in school with my grades and my lack of interest in ANYTHING that I owe them the biggest apology of all for not living up to my potential. How could you not feel like a failure as a parent when your kid drops out of school? I was a young girl who had an incredible amount of potential. I don't even recognize that girl as me. How did my inner self not realize there was so much I would be missing? What it would feel like to be accomplished? To experience graduation? To be congratulated and respected for a job well done? To have the opposite sex look at you as a strong educated woman? I have no clue as to what that feels like.

How did I not study abroad? How did I not model or create fashion? How did I not study art or visit more museums? Lectures? How did I not follow my dream of becoming an interior designer? An event planner? A wedding planner? How did I not become a photographer? A writer? A teacher? A Scientist? An actress even?  How did I not take radio classes or communications? How did I not open up a restaurant?

College for example, is something I will never know. Did I ever even have a chance of getting in? I became pregnant with Dallas at 19 and was married to his father for just shy of two years. I worked and worked and worked and worked and still couldn't make ends meet after we divorced, and then Matthew disappeared completely. Dallas went to live with my parents at 18 months and has been there ever since. Not a choice that was made easily and honestly, it's still not something I am quite over. I may never be "over" it. If you know me though, and you know my family than you know it was the best choice for Dallas. I'm torn between thinking I wasn't mature enough to raise my own child and the feeling that I WAS mature enough to recognize that I couldn't raise him. Sometimes I wonder if I gave up far too easily. I have always givne up too fast. I throw my hands up in the air and say "I'm done" far sooner than I should. Giving up Dallas is my most incomprehensible sadness. Fortunaly, he was and still is raised by two wonderful people. They gave him more than I ever could have given him at 21. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for my parents. But I'm always torn, like a piece of me is missing and always will be. 

I have had so many bad boyfriends and bad friends. The adult in me now can't even grasp why I kept so many toxic people in my life. Why did I stay in such awful relationships with men and women? What about ME atracted these people to me? Why didn't I ever just walk away? The the thing about being older is you realize now more than ever when you are wasting your time. I put up with so much. I would never put up with any of those people now.

So what do I do with this? What do I do with these regrets at 36 years old? So many people have told me "You're young! It's not to late!". I don't think those people realize what a missed chance feels like. I can't just go back to school and try to recreate something I should have experienced at 20. I can't just get that chance back. I can't go back and dump those boyfriends. I can't go back and tell those awful friends to get out of my life. I can't go back and raise Dallas on my own, or never get married to Matthew. The scars I carry run deep and no amount of therapy or journal entries can erase them. I spent so many endless nights in my old apartments waiting for something to happen TO me. Gah! The overwhelming anger wrecks my brain. I just want to slap myself. I've developed tremendous self esteem issues and so much guilt, that ironically, I'm STILL not doing anything to better myself. I feel crippled and stuck. Still.

After a couple of days I can look back at how I was feeling and realize that the choices I made lead me here, to this present life, and this life is pretty wonderful to say the least. One of those awful boyfriends lead me right into the arms of my husband and best friend. (That's another story entirely) I'm actually a VERY fortunate girl. I have incredible, beautiful children. I own a home, a nice car, I'm in good health and so is my family. I have a fantastic group of girlfriends I could call upon at any time I need to feel some love. The best thing for me to do is to slowly stop going through these phases of feeling "not good enough". To slowly if possible, stop regretting my past so much. My mother once told me I am always either living in the past, or I suffer from the "what ifs". I'm never in the moment and I don't think much of my future. It's like I'm stuck in time.

My bucket list is a mile long. I think it's funny that part of me believes I can undo years of being a certain way and then all of a sudden like a switch start enrolling myself in school, or pick up a paint brush, dive into countless hobbies or start writing a book. After I die, I want something to be left of my existence besides my children. I want people to remember me for a long time, as someone who changed their life. The older I get and the closer to old age I get I am discovering I want a purpose. I want to be more than a mother and a wife and daughter. I also need to find a way to accept that I may never be more than just that. I need that to be okay.