The Toughest Part Of Aging: Accepting The Wrong Decisions We Made

But there’s always a silver lining.

We have a routine every evening, my son and I.

We chat about our days before we go to bed, and tell each other the good, the bad, and the ugly. No, not the ugly. I filter my stories and prefer listening rather than talking about my days in an office.

“I can’t believe how quickly days go by, Mum,” he tells me almost daily. Realizing already now how rapidly one day melts into the next.

I’d rather he didn’t notice this, he’s too young to worry about the passing nature of life. But then maybe it’ll help him enjoy the present more.

As I approach 48, I can’t help but face the fact I’ve likely lived more than I have left. I slowly accept the need to hurry through my bucket list because I have less time to accomplish my goals.

How can one make peace with that? I often wonder. Aging is a pest.

But we gradually do because our mind — this fascinating part of us — helps us adapt to things we wouldn’t willingly do.

I think of the girl who wanted to conquer the world. Bursting with ambition but also scared of the unknown. The same girl who stood on stage hoping to get the part in a local theatre, I skipped home after the audition, feeling intoxicated by the dopamine the five minutes of performance gave me.

The euphoria stayed with me until I found the letter crumpled in our post box, delivering the news that instantly shattered my dream. “Wasn’t successful” were the first words I spotted as I opened the envelope.

The rest of the letter was unimportant.

Common formalities. To make the rejection somewhat less painful.

But none of it mattered, as I already knew what counted. I wasn’t enough. And tears were streaming down my cheeks. Life had slapped me in the face and left red welts that stung.

I was hurt.

It’s funny how we think that life is our playground. Or that we can make up our own rules. Naïve buggers.

Only years of experience teach us that the playground can be cruel and rules are often broken.

If life was fair I would’ve never left my country and family behind. I might’ve even got the part in the theatre. But my story was written differently and it wasn’t going in the direction I envisioned.

The road I walked on was filled with bumps and bends, intersections that would’ve derailed anyone.

“Would you do anything differently if you could go back in time”- my son asked me one day.

It stopped me in my tracks. I rarely toy with the idea not much point in pondering the unchangeable.

Ooh… where do I even begin?

My mental archive is almost tangible as I go through the memories. Red marks flashed brightly at the crossroads where I took the wrong turns.

“I’d take my time before committing,” I say vaguely, protecting him from the weight of my mistakes. Without scaring him off from being brave and daring to take risks.

The risks that are involved in most things we do.

Getting the correct education and hoping it’s the right match. Falling for someone and hoping not to get hurt. Moving to a different country and starting a life from scratch.

“What do you mean?” he asks. I knew he wouldn’t let me get away with it. So, I answer the best I can. I tell him that decisions have consequences. And that they aren’t always bad, but often we regret them.

I tell him that it’s part of life. And we’d better make peace with them.

How could I have known that an adventure to Italy would be the beginning of a long-lasting expat life? That many years later, I’d move to England and miss out on precious time with family. That a Skype call would be the most I’d get. And the yearly visits back home would only last two weeks.

So much has been lost because of one decision.

Hugs. Conversations. Sunday lunches. Laughter. Walks in the park. Family time.

A parent passing without you being by their side.

“You see, this a consequence of a decision your mum had made,” I say, and I shiver as I spell it out. The weight of my part in this hit me like a brick propelling down the roof of a tall building.

Was it even worth it, I wonder, but I don’t say it out loud. Because it wouldn’t make a difference now.

We all have chapters in our lives that we’d rather re-write if we were given a chance. And we’d fill the pages with all the things that we missed when we first had the opportunity.

Isn’t it cruel this aging thing? Reminiscing the good times while reflecting on the lessons learned too late.

I struggle with acceptance, though I’m slowly learning how to do it.

Because missed opportunities can gnaw at you that last a lifetime and spread like a disease until they become it.

So what if I haven’t accomplished as much as some of my friends? My life is different, and I started it from scratch twice.

You can’t build a career abroad when you’re busy learning the language. When you’re fighting for survival and working jobs that just about allow you to live there.

You still do it, though — even through gritted teeth- because you know the alternative is even worse. And because you remember the first pay you got in your country, that barely covered the price of your boots.

Life isn’t fair, and most of us know it only too well. But gosh, do we want relief sometimes? To feel in peace for a short while. With no regrets and guilt, just to catch our breaths.

“But you can change things, right? When you’re not happy with life,” my son blurts out, the forever optimist. And I truly hope he’ll be able to do that when the time comes.

I say, “Often you can, but sometimes you feel stuck. It depends”. I would’ve loved to work on my career when I was younger. When I still had a chance.

But caring for a child singlehandedly makes you cautious. You have laser focus and are scared to slip. Because building a new life after a failed relationship can easily use up all your reserves.

Yet another consequence that can be added to the list.

But there’s a silver lining, like most things in life. And we all get a chance to make amends one day. As long as we accept that fixes come with limitations, and that some events are irrevocably final.

I can see the happy ending to my story, where things went awry years ago. And I can finally build a career I didn’t get a chance to when I was younger.

The thing is, though, perspectives change. And what was your dream earlier may no longer be your goal.

So here I am, typing away because now I have the time. I’m now able to find my mission.

I have the time to make amends.