A better life

In a better life, I would have stood up for myself more often. I would have been a better student and athlete in high school. I would have found a way to live in Europe again.

I would praise more and complain less. Work more and slack off less. Bake cookies, knit, drink wine, and be the perfect mother.

I’d be a triathlete, fluent in four languages, and a tireless volunteer.

I would have saved more money, traveled more places, and learned how to dress better.

I would never be jealous of another woman’s figure, never covet another’s lifestyle, never say something I’d later regret—or fail to say something I should have said.

I’d be a master of sparkling conversation at social events, a better housekeeper, and a five inches taller.

Except…

…my life is good.

The things in my world—or about myself—that I really care about changing, I’m working on. And those that only matter to other people, I’m learning to let go.

I am a work in progress.

I can’t go back and change what I’ve done or failed to do. I can’t—and don’t want to—change who I am at my core.

I can only learn from my regrets and successes and take those lessons forward. I can only learn to embrace who I am, inside and out, and be the best me I know how.

And that, I think, will make a better life.

Photo credit: Giovanni Boldini [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons