If I could live my life again…
Posted August 15, 2020
on:I’d learn to work steadier, not just in fits and starts when something took my interest.
I’d be a better advocate for myself and my own welfare, treating my kindness as a freely-offered gift, but not as an obligation.
I’d be more boring, more ordinary, less imaginative, less insular. A more normal person, and happier for it.
I wouldn’t quit all the things that challenged me – music, dance, sport – as a teenager that longed to become a different person.
I’d try to see my failures as opportunities and embrace them, rather than excruciating embarrassments to be studiously ignored.
I’d see myself as I was back then – clever, dynamic, funny, slim, full of life – and strive so hard to remain that way.
I’d still read as many books, but live less in my head when I wasn’t reading.
I’d value my friendships more, and work harder to prolong them, not just shed them like an old coat when they got uncomfortable.
I’d be more honest about what I wanted, and less afraid to pursue it.
I’d let people in. Let them know me, and not be so cynical and full of doubt as to their intentions.
I’d try to find love. Some kind and reliable man to share the burdens of my life, and to fill a house with children.
I’d be less ashamed of being a real, clumsy, messy flesh-and-blood girl, and not try to exist in my mind alone.
I’d appear gentle and obliging and compliant, but be strong and confident and wilful inside, rather than the other way around.
I’d cry more in the presence of others, and less on my own.
I’d return people’s confidences with genuine insights into my own mind and life, rather than trying to appear understanding while being closed-down and unreadable.
I’d place more value on honesty and kindness, and less on intelligence and wit.
I’d watch less TV, spend less time on the Internet, spend more time outdoors.
I wouldn’t wear my weirdness as armour, cultivating idiosyncrasies to protect myself from getting too close to others.
I’d go to more places, try new things, fill my life with experiences, be able to tell true and interesting stories with myself as a main character.
I would be more forgiving of the mistakes of myself and others, but less forgiving of deliberate cruelties.
I’d be a better person in every way I know how, and understand that that’s a process, and not give up every time I didn’t live up to my standards.
I’d live my life freely and truly, and spend much less time wishing and hoping to be able to start again.
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