Regret

[Via]

 A few days ago, I was in the checkout line at a store. I heard the cashier ask the customers in front of me, a young couple, "Quick -- if you could go back and change anything, what would it be?"  The couple was understandably caught off-guard and didn't really know how to answer, so they turned the tables, asking the cashier what he would change.  He said, "Nothing. I've made mistakes, but I always learned something from them. So I'd change nothing."  Sure enough, when it was my turn, he asked me the same question, and I fed his answer back to him - "Nothing."  But I wasn't being honest.

For the past few months -- and honestly, probably longer than that -- I've been having regrets about a job change a made four and a half years ago.  I decided to leave newspapers for a communications job in a higher education setting. At the time, it seemed like a great opportunity.  The pay was higher, and there was more potential for growth and advancement.  It was a new style of writing, so I had a lot to learn, but I thought I was doing pretty well. After 18 months, my position was eliminated. It was devastating and embarrassing. 

If it had been a simple layoff, I might have been able to stomach it better. But it wasn't. In the month leading up to my layoff, my supervisor had been picking apart my work. Up until then, she had been supportive and encouraging, but all of a sudden things had changed.  In the week prior to my layoff, she wouldn't even talk to me -- not a "hello" or a meeting to discuss projects.  I should have seen the writing on the wall, I guess, but I didn't. I was stunned when I was let go, and more than that, I was hurt that my supervisor treated me like dirt on the way out. My theory is that she knew she was going to have to get rid of me all that time, and she decided to make her own conscience lighter by convincing herself that my work sucked and distancing herself from me.  But that theory hasn't made me feel any better over the years. 

I was unemployed for a few months before accepting a temp communications position that brought me to Des Moines. That position was eliminated after just three months.  If you're keeping track at home, that's two layoffs in seven months. Needless to say, I abandoned the communications field after that. It was clear to me that the writing skills I believed I had honed and developed were not good enough.  My confidence in those talents was gone. My plans and dreams of earning a living as a writer were gone. This might be why I haven't finished a writing project in the last few years.

But there's more ...

When I took that first communications job, I moved to a town where there were few to no rental properties, especially those with furkids.  And since I wasn't going to get rid of my cats, I had to buy a house.  It was exciting at the time, moving into a 1,000-square foot ranch with attached garage. I loved having a space that was truly mine.  But if you know anything about real estate, selling after just 18 months is not possible, unless you want to be completely upside down.  So I found some renters.  I advised them I only intended to rent out the house for a year and would then be looking to sell. They were interested in buying, but when the year was up, they were not financially ready to buy.  So we drew up a purchase contract for another year.  We're nearing the end of that contract, and they still don't have enough credit to get a mortgage.  I contacted a realtor to explore the option of selling, but the best case scenario (which isn't possible unless I do a bunch of improvements) is that I would get out of it owing $5,000 minimum.  That's money I don't have.  I have shed more than a few tears of stress as I anguish over how to proceed.

So ... in short, taking that communications job I thought would lead to better opportunities has killed my career, my confidence, and my finances.  I have said more than once that if I could go back four and a half years, I would not take that job. I'd stay in newspapers.  Maybe it didn't pay well, but at least I felt appreciated and my writing was valued.  I tell myself I should have stayed there for a few more years before moving to Des Moines.

But I can't go back.  I can't change my decision.  At some point, I'm going to have to let go of this regret.  Maybe, to do that, I'll have to figure out what I've learned from this process.  Maybe then I'll find some peace.

Sorry for the novel today, but this has been in my head for a long time now and it needed to come out.

Do you have any regrets?  
Is there anything you once regretted but have come to accept as just part of life?