Regrets: I’ve Had a Few
A year ago, I completely changed my life. This year has somehow managed to be the happiest, most relaxing, tumultuous, and terrifying year of my adult life. If I had known how hard the changes were going to be, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to make them. I changed my life, and not in a shy way.
Leaving Music
In becoming a writer, I lost a lot of self-confidence. Giving up something you’re good at, something you’ve rooted your identity and self-worth and self-confidence in, is incredibly difficult. Since grade school, I was a pianist. For nearly thirty years I actively improved my musical skills every day, and a whole lot of my confidence was built on that foundation of skill and knowledge and training. And fifteen years of teaching piano: I knew exactly what to do and exactly how to teach certain things. It makes one feel good, to do something well, day after day.
Leaving all that was HARD, and I was totally unprepared for what a drastic blow it would be to my self-esteem.
I’m in a good place now, so I can admit that there were periods in this last year when I was depressed and felt like a complete failure and utterly worthless. I was terrified. I felt like I was drowning, like I was trying grab the buoy of music and teaching that had once been my confidence, but I’d thrown it away.
And there was nothing there.
Oh yes, I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I was freaked.
Becoming a Writer
Part of me will always be a musician. I miss it. When I watch my music friends in their careers, my fingers itch to get at the piano. I mourn it often, and it’s still a sore spot that aches, even though I am certain that writing is where my heart truly is.
With writing, I never have to manufacture motivation. Whether I’m motivated or not, I find myself writing. It just happens. I don’t want a life; I never want to “escape” writing or even take a break, unless it’s to go to a movie. Even then, try to get me to a matinee—it won’t happen. I can’t go to a movie until I’ve written.
I love volunteering and hiking the desert once a week, but as much as I love it, I have to “force” myself away from writing. In theory, I want to travel and I want to explore Arizona more, but in reality, I can’t bear to give up the writing days.
Even when I swear-to-God really don’t want to write, I don’t want to do anything else.
No Half-Measures
Up until this last year, I had an absolute, no-idea-where-it-came-from confidence in the fact that I “should” write, that the “universe wants me to write.” This certainty did not come from any belief in my writing abilities; it was just there. And I am not given to faith; I’m really not. But there it was.
That confidence was shaken and tried this year.
(Yay! I finally get to join the club!)
I knew, going into this writing thing, that I wanted to be a very good writer. And I’ve seen what it takes for musicians to be very good musicians. I put zero stock in talent, so I’ve never wondered if I had writing talent. I do, however, know how to learn. I know how to make a living in the arts. I know how to become good at something, and I particularly know how to become good at something creative.
Line up all the best musicians, and I bet not one of them ever had a fall-back career. I knew if I gave myself the luxury of one, I’d never be as good as I want to be. Believe it or not, I’m a security freak, and if I gave myself the option, I’d get comfortable.
I maneuvered myself into the position of having nothing to fall back on; I do realize that. And for me, it was the right decision.
But damn, it was frightening as hell.
It Was a Very Good Year
Yes. Yes, it was. It doesn’t sound it so far, does it? In spite of it all, I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t regret my regrets for a second.
And now look, I’ve written a whole blog post and I haven’t even gotten to the good bits! And there were more good bits than scary bits, I promise. So I suppose I’m going to have to finish this up in a day or two… after I finish my writing. 
Ever have regrets? Or regrets you don’t regret? Ever choose one thing above another, and mourn the loss of it, even while you know you’d make the exact same decision a thousand times over?
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Natasha Fondren is a writer traveling the U.S. in a camper with her four cats. She is currently enjoying the lizards and desert heat in Arizona.
I have regrets in life – tons of them – but overall I’m happy with the choices I’ve made. They always say you’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the things you did.
And if I had the chance to do it all over again, I’d still make the same decisions. Even when they were painful. Cause I wouldn’t be who/where I am today.
I hear you, Nadine. I think the only true regret I have is that I was sick in bed for most of my twenties and I didn’t get to live. I really, really regret that, but… I didn’t have a choice in the matter. So I’m not even sure it’s a true regret. I used to say that I was glad I got sick because it led me to teaching, but… it was such a high price, that if I’d been given the choice, I would have risked being someone else, LOL. But like you, I’m glad I am who I am today.
I look at regrets as more of choices we make in life and not what happens to us. You didn’t choose to be sick, it unfortunately happened.
When I was struggling last year, my husband said “Sometimes crappy things happen to good people.”
May your future be filled with wonderful adventures and no regrets
Aww, thanks! Oh man, I’m not including me in this, I’m just saying that I’ve noticed that the crappiest things seem to happen to the best people.
I hope the crappy is done with you, Nadine! *hugs*
Thanks Natasha! Crappy is definitely done. I left it back in 2009.
Good things in 2010!
((hugs))
My regrets tend to fade with time, if that makes sense. I keep moving forward because I must.
Dearest, you’ve had a heck of an adventure already, and I sense that there are many more ahead of you (but you might want to do something about the leaky trailer, meantime).
That’s awesome, Elizabeth. You’re right. We do have to keep moving forward! And yeah, leaky camper is getting old, LOL!
I’d say for 85 percent of my writing life I felt certain that the universe did NOT want me to be a writer, that it was telling me in no uncertain terms to quit wasting my time. I talked a little about this in Write With fire. Only in the last few years, since about 2007, have I begun to feel as if the universe has finally given in and said, “ok, do it if you have to do it. Just don’t expect to make any money at it.”
Wow, Charles! See, that just makes your work and your drive so amazing. I don’t know how you did it. But I’m gonna hope the universe will give you some money, anyway.
I regret that I never had the courage to take the kind of leap you took and, in particular, force myself to do more by giving myself no fall back option. That’s really important. But then very very few people have enough guts to do what you’ve done. I hope you have a lot of success.
And spending your twenties (your twenties!) sick in bed — what a horror. It is a wonder you aren’t bitter and broken. Well congrats on the last year.
Eric, it perplexes me to hear you say that, since the story of your jump to freelancing was definitely one of the stories that inspired me. (And thanks!)
I had that thing where most of your blood is going to your major organs and not your brain, so I couldn’t think. I mean, like, no thoughts happened in my brain. It was terrifying, but at the same time, because of that, I honestly don’t remember most of it. I’m mostly just immensely grateful I’m well now. It’s a little miracle every day.
That sounds like an incredibly scary illness. Wow. My mom has Alzheimer’s and I don’t even want to think about getting that. Having your thoughts messed up has got to be the worst.
Well, I’m flattered but to be honest, I didn’t really jump into freelancing. I was pushed when I was laid off. But, yeah, I embraced the opportunity and made it work. Mary and I pretty quickly decided that that’s the way we were going to go on a permanent basis, no matter what.
I’m sorry about your mother, Eric. That’s rough.
It was weird. I would sit there with just this white fuzz in my mind, and I’d realized I hadn’t had a single thought. So I’d say to myself, “Think.” And then it would be complete blankness for another five or ten minutes. And then I’d say to myself, “Think.”
You know how there’s pretty much always little thoughts running through your mind? There was nothing. It was annoying. After it, I have very few memories of my childhood or twenties. It’s sorta freaky.
I’ve had regrets, but got over them. You know, life’s too short, etc.
But I would love to have the writing bug bite me in the way it has you. I’m easily distracted and have to really be in the writing mood in order to ignore the outside stuff. In the beginning, back when I just made the decision to write a novel, I could not rip myself away from the computer. But then reality, publishing, eye-explosion, and all the tension involved with furthering the career, lessened my deep desire. It was as if the more I learned about publishing, the more my desire waned.
Kath, I wish I were in that “can’t rip myself away” phase. Well, I can’t rip myself away, but I can’t seem to focus as well as I’d like, either!
It is hard to listen to that stuff about publishing! I ignore.
Ever have regrets? Being human, of course I have. Oddly, sometimes I’ve regretted quitting art, sometimes I’ve regretted starting again…and again…and again. Fortunately I’ve found a happy medium between those two extremes…FINALLY!
That’s great, Lana! Sometimes I think life is meant to be an up and down ride.
I regret I didn’t write more when the kids were little. I felt like I was so busy and overwhelmed, but over the past couple of years I’ve met so many cool women who have managed to do write and work and have a family. I wish I had known them when I was younger. It would have inspired me.
Other than that, I regret not having eaten more cheesecake when I was an adolescent.
Awww, Robin! But you can write plenty now!
Oh man, cheesecake… I wish I’d enjoyed how thin I was when I was thinner!
I love love LOVE this post. It is so rich and full of adventure, courage, and LIFE! BRAVO to you, Natasha, for following your true calling.
I love that you pushed beyond your labels of who you were, based on what you did well, to follow what you really loved to do, despite the lack of history you had with it. We often form our self worth (confidence and self-esteem) on that which we do well. Even if that sense of self worth isn’t built on what we really love to do, it can still be terrifying to give it all up. It takes TREMENDOUS courage to look underneath our various identities and masks that we wear to survive and portray ourselves in the world; to really LOOK and see what lies underneath.
Awww, thank you, Darcy! Isn’t it hard? I definitely do that, build my self worth on things I do well. It’s been an interesting year, that’s for sure!
I also loved what you said about not putting too much stock in talent by itself. I remember when I was going to have braces for just one year in high school. My private horn teacher wisely advised me to just take the year off the horn, as it wasn’t a long enough period to go through the agony of adjusting to playing with braces. I spent the year practicing the piano and getting as good as I was going to get on it at that time. I worked and worked and worked at the piano, and I loved it, but it always took so much effort to even approach the level of mastery I found it easy to achieve on the horn.
During that braces hiatus, my band director enthusiastically gave me a bassoon to play in band, as there were no other bassoonists. I practiced that damn thing day and night – more, I think, than I had ever practiced the horn until that point – and I never got any better. I just sounded atrocious. We have home videos at Christmastime with me practicing the bassoon in the background. It sounded like a cow getting a root canal. It was then that it really hit me – the true definition of talent is the ability to do something very well and without much work or effort, that most other people find difficult. I have a very modest amount of talent on the piano. I have no talent whatsoever for the bassoon, and I’m TOTALLY okay with that.
I have talent on the horn. It wouldn’t have gotten me where I am on its own, but with hard work and perseverance, it sure helped! 
Wow, I never knew that story! LOL, Darcy! “A cow getting a root canal.” That’s hilarious! (You gotta use that, if you write that mystery series.)
Of all the students I’ve had, 2 out of all the talented students became good, and at least 70% of the untalented students became good. It seemed, in piano, that talent was almost a detriment. And by the time I got a few years in them, the untalented had become talented.
Terrific post! As I read this, I thought of lines from two songs: “First I was a afraid, I was petrified …” And, “Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention.”
I have regrets, but I don’t dwell on them. Most of the time, I’m content and at times I’m joyful. They by far outweigh any regrets.
Gah! I see you titled this blog “Regrets: I’ve had a few.” No wonder I thought of that song. lol
Hahaha! And “It Was a Very Good Year” is a Sinatra song, too. It seems it was a Sinatra year!
I just said to my aunt last night (who’s going through a nasty divorce) that I don’t believe there’s any point to having regrets. You’ve done what you’ve done, now move on. Learn from it.
It kind of relieves me to hear that you’ve suffered from self-esteem problems, because that was the hardest part for me while living in Mexico. Giving up what made me who I was was a lot harder than I ever expected.
Oh really? Gosh, I feel for her. Is this the writer?
I have to say, Melanie, you moving to Mexico inspired me so much… and then when you moved back to Michigan, you were equally inspiring. And not just inspiring, it’s such a relief to hear someone else go through similar things.
Keep fighting the good fight. Be warned, I mentioned you in my post today.
LOL, Travis! Loved it!
The old joke goes; If I had my life to live over…I’d live over a liquor store.
Seriously, If I could turn back time I’d take more time to find myself and explore those paths not taken. I tended to jump in and run with one thing…I wish I’d looked around and saw the other possibilities before committing.
But then I wonder if the grass is just greener over there…
Hah! That’s a good one, Aimless! I haven’t actually heard it. I like that. The grass is greener thing is a tough one.
I hate making decisions. Possibilities make me crazy, LOL!
[...] that my year has been inspired by Frank. Why yes, it has, what with “Not in a Shy Way” and “Regrets: I’ve Had a Few” and now “It Was A Very Good [...]
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