Updated: Aug 26, 2023
I know one thing. If you regret having children, your kids don’t want or need to hear about it. That’s the tough part. Parents need to work through their regret. Regret is normal and very human. Conversely, if you don’t like your parents or regret your childhood, the people who raised you don’t need to unpack that with you. Negotiating your childhood regret is what you unpack through your adulthood. While you are regretting your own children, if you have them.
I hope the last sentence sparked a little levity alongside the reality of living through some of life's really HUGE CHANGE journeys all at the same time. When I close my eyes and acknowledge all of the life changes that came with moving from the teenage to adult years. Then, if I add being married, learning about how work works. And finally top it off with the daily endeavor of becoming a parent that takes your child’s lifetime, regret is not a surprise to me.
Expecting regret and figuring out how to be in the presence of your regret is really what we have the chance to do openly in our generation.
Let's face it. People have had regrets about all of their family members and different parts of the family experience for a very long time.
The breakthrough is that we can talk aloud in this generation.
I personally believe expressing regret and taking the steps to learn how to live with little to no regret is a very healthy part of adult development.
Here’s the article on Parental Regret that got me thinking about the topic.
Do you want to know what soul work looks like with respect to regret?.
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This moment just hit me. My Dad and I went to visit my Aunt and Uncle at their nursing home yesterday. My Uncle shrieked with delight. They haven’t seen each other in 10 years.
But why was I awashed in tears thinking about the patient who saw us parting?
She couldn’t speak but beckoned me over. She pointed at her cheek a little frantically and smiled. At first I thought she was in pain but then I figured out why. She wanted us to come over and hug her and kiss her goodbye too. Good Lord. She squealed and giggled at our hugs and kisses while saying we would see her next time. My aunt and uncle get visited 3-4 a week at a minimum. My Dad and I have been shaking our heads all evening at a stranger wanting our kisses, hugs, and greetings.
I admire her advocating for own self care. She wanted to be touched, kissed, and fussed over.
As one friend put it, she wanted to Feel Love.
Count your blessings.
I like to write about the mother-daughter relationship. In this piece, I explore the moments when you are both a mother and daughter.
I also wanted to include the physical experience of those feelings.This piece began as an entry to a short story contest.
“How is it that she's the mother and I am the child?”
I felt the reversal of what I was thinking. Then, I felt the weight. Perennial weight. Because the question asked exists on some attenuated, amplified, frequency modulated band of the universe. The question is in us daughters. We are born with that inquiry, marked on our social development DNA.
This time, confused not disoriented. I felt it differently. Relaxing into the lightheaded feeling of being in both places like a yoga stretch where the head feels hung on wrong. I've been in both places now. I let the energy sink in.
I listened to her last night. I have been obsessed with listening to her lately. “How is she only 178 months old? Seriously. I've been here 3.5 times longer, if you round up in the 3rd decimal place.” Yet, she knows answers that I didn't know. At least, that how it strikes me.
“Wait a minute.”
Scratching my head to remember which side to be on.
“Mom? Daughter?”
“Oh. Ohhhh? I am both.”
I've come to the time and space where I am both. No wonder! The low grade persistent dizziness made sense now.
Hearing my neck crack from the inside of my head as I twisted to straighten out a bit. I hooked my feet, overlapped at the ankle. Like a frog pose, you know how young people or puppies do when they are more occupied with the activity on the top half of their body then their bottom. I felt young or timeless. I loved writing on my stomach. I forgot. Don't believe them when they say you can't do your work this way. It feels so good. My feet were now hanging off the edge of the bed and so were my ankles and a part of my calf on my right side.
I was thinking. Twirling my feet like some might twirl hair.
"It is possible to be two places at once.”
The feet were hooked again. You are living it. You are both her mother and her daughter. “Which her?” I paused. Not wanting to assume anything. I just lay there. I wanted to say I dunno. But, the flash of thought had already entered my consciousness.
“Her mother is you.”
“Her daughter is both of you.”
Hand on chin, head tilted and leaning into one hand, legs out stretched again. I stopped for a while.
“No wonder there's so much fighting.”