what's past is prologue

[electricland]

So ohiblather wanted to know "what if?" Is there anything in my past I regret? I've been mulling over this question or something like it for some time in any case, and as I was walking over to Greene Ave. last night the entry started writing itself in my head (as is so often the case) and I had to sit down on a bench and write it in a notebook in case it went away again. Three buses went by as I did this. Fortunately E was late to meet me. This is basically what I wrote, although I may edit if I notice it makes no sense.

I can't exactly regret the course my life has taken, because (as Debbie points out) if you say "I wish I hadn't done X", you might never have met Y or seen Z, and that would be no good. I guess it's mostly the things I haven't done that I regret. Mostly this boils down to a single cause: I've always (until quite recently) been pathologically self-reliant.

But self-reliance is a good thing! I hear.

Well, no. You may be hearing "strong, independent, self-starter", but what I feel is "afraid, incapable of figuring out or admitting when I need help or where to get it." This, over the years, has done me a lot of damage.

When I say "always" I do mean "always". My father told me once that I threw him for a loop when I was very young, because he'd always heard that little kids were constantly asking tough questions, and I never asked any -- I'd go away and figure out for myself why the sky was blue. When I went to Niagara-on-the-lake this summer we were all talking about our various childhoods, and some people were recalling the first time they realized that a grown-up wasn't going to come along and fix a problem for them -- most people had really clear memories of that moment, and I couldn't think of anything, and my cousin J (who is a year and a half older than me) said "No, you were always totally independent."

Anyway. I think somewhere along the line I picked up the idea -- God knows how -- that everyone in the world was watching me, waiting for me to make some kind of mistake so they could laugh at me. And the only way I could prevent this was by keeping to myself, figuring out exactly what was expected of me as fast as possible and doing it. Perfectly. If I couldn't figure something out first time, I avoided it altogether.

Actually now I come to think of it this has stunted a hell of a lot of my life, like:

piano lessons
sports of any kind
friendship
romance
physical and quantum chemistry
trying new and interesting things

With great self-consciousness comes great self-reliance.

I have never liked to take risks. So I've always done the easy thing, whatever presented itself to me first: Study science because I had a Canada Scholarship. Go to McGill because it's close, but not too close, to home, and reputable. Take chemistry because I got a higher mark in it in first year than physics. Take the first job that comes along. Take another one because the first one frustrates me. Date someone because they ask me. Have a relationship because it's easier than saying no. Let other people do my breaking up for me. (The reverse is also true: I retire in good order at the first breath of difficulty or opposition.)

It's only very recently that I've become aware of all this, or rather that I've started to see how it all fits together. I'm trying to change, and I think I'm doing not badly, although I have a long way to go.

(The asking-for-help thing: I'm definitely better at that. In 4th year I failed nearly all my courses, barely worked on my honours project, barely left my apartment and was in complete denial about anything being wrong. I didn't go back in the fall, following an internship at Saturday Night (my dad: "You should apply for that." me: "OK.") of which I completely failed to take advantage. I went back the next year after buying a book on how to study. It went OK. That was when I had the minor revelation that 'Oh! When Dr. W. said "Hand in your lab report late and I'll mark it anyway" she meant "Hand in your lab report late and I'll mark it anyway"!' -- see a pattern?)

Anyway. That, in a nutshell, is what I regret: the many things I did not do because I was afraid.

Funny how a few days not writing much really fills up the reservoir and bursts the ol' floodgates, isn't it?

I am most definitely my own worst enemy.

About questions: I've never been much good at asking them -- a combination of reticence, fear of looking stupid, and lack of imagination, depending on the circumstances. A bit better now.

(I'm also sorry I didn't figure some of this out sooner.)

I'm sorry I've never been able to meet up with some of my grade-school tormentors and wow them with my warm, poised, tall, attractive self. (Hey, some days she shows up.)

I'm sorry I've lost touch with some old friends.

I can't think of anything else.

Except of course that like so many other things in my life that I've had to hear umpteen times before they got through to me, when you're on your deathbed it's not the things you did that you'll regret -- it's the things you didn't do.

[ETA: I mentioned, right, that I'm working on this? Because I am. I have to. I'm tired of being afraid of phantom "what-ifs" all the time.]