In the Ask A Manager weekend forum, there is a thread about a book focusing on the protagonist being able to see how her life would have been different if she had made different big choices. The Original Poster asked if people had choices in their lives in which they would have made different choices, then added what would you tell your twenty-year old self to change the trajectory of your life.
Most of the comments are from people saying they would not change anything because blah blah blah person they now are. It may be true. Or it may be what they think they need to say. Or it could just be that American can-do, positive toxicity shining through. There were a few people who said they would make different choices, but they were few and far between.
I started a reply in my head, but realized that I probably shouldn’t post it because it would get really negative and really self-indulgent. So I’m going to do it here instead.
First of all, I get what people are saying about if they changed something in their life, they wouldn’t have the life they have today. With concrete examples like, “If I hadn’t married my first husband, I wouldn’t have my child”, that makes complete sense. I feel the same about working at Katahdin, my first job after college. It was a terrible place to work and the people there were mostly really dbad at their jobs. At least one was a horrible human being, too. The lead of my team. He was narcissistic, vain, lazy, and just an all-around creep.
But, it’s where I met K. Who became my best friend and the sister I never had. I love her and cannot imagine my life without her. I have often joked that when we are in our eighties, we’re going to be at the same old folks’ home, heckling the other inmates. So, yes, I would not give up working in that hellhole if it meant not meeting her.
On the other hand, I would definitely have chosen not to date the Thai guy who forced me to have sex with him. And I most certainly owuld nat have stayed with him because of my twisted, fucked-up brain telling me that it was my fault and that I was trapped. I was fortunate that the relationship had an baked-in shelf life as I was returning to America.
But. The reason I stayed with him was because of how I was browbeaten to believe that my sole worth on this earth was what I could offer other people with being an available hole to any man (yes, man) who wanted it an implied secondary lesson.
This is the biggest thing I would change or that I would tell my twenty-year-old self. Hell, I woul tell this to teen-year-old me and fifteen-year-old me as well.
Dear younger Minna,
Your parents don’t love you. They don’t even like you. They do not care about you as a person. I’m telling you this not to make you upset or sad, but to set you free. Had I known this at your age, I wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to win their approval–albeit in backassward ways.
You are perfect the way you are. You are a beautiful person, no matter what your parents say (or don’t). They are not to blame. They are incapable of love. It’s not just you they don’t love–it’s anyone. You just happen to be the hapless child of their dysfunction.
They. Don’t. Love. You. I’m not saying this to me cruel. I just want to make sure you really gcet it. That weird feeling in the back of your head that there’s something wrong with you because your parents don’t seem to like you is not you making things up.They don’t. How can they? They don’t know you. They have no interest in knowing you. They just want you to be the ideal daughter that they have dreamed up in their head.
Or rather, that’s what your mother wants. Your father wants for you to not exist. Barring that, he wants you to shut up with your high-fangled ideas and notions and just smile, nod, and agree with everything he says. He does not want to hear anything from you that isn’t, “Oh, really?”, “You’re so right”, and “Yep.” That’s it. Nothing else.
As for your mother, she wants you to listen to her complaints about your father without a hint of compalaint. She does not want to know what is going on in your life. She does not want to know that you’re a thinking and feeling human being in your own right. She does not want to hear about your tats, your sexual identity, your lack of religion, your love of Taiji weapons, and don’t even think about mentioning your gender identity.
(Actually, I wouldn’t think to say any of these because none of that happened or occurred to me until I was in my twenties. But the gist remaains the same. Keep everything about yourself to yourself.)
You are not fat. And when you do get chubby, you are perfectly fine. You don’t have to lose weight to be beautiful, to get a husband, to fit into this world. Well, maybe the last, but you don’t want that, anyway.
If there is anything I can get you to truly believe deep in your heart, it’s that you are beautiful the way you are. The weird way your brain works is amazing. You are fine, just the way you are, and fuck anyone who doesn’t think so.
This includes your parents. They will never and I mean never appreciate you for who you are. Not even when you die twice, are in a coma for a week, and then miraculously awaken. Even then, they will want you to be the mythical daughter who is endlessly giving to them and asking for nothing. Your mother will still be putting your father first. Please believe me when I say you will be happier when you accept this as truth.
She would rather you die than her husband die. And I know that sounds grim, but it’s actually liberating! It can’t get any more clear cut than that that it’s not about you. It’s so about her, and you can finally put that burden down. You can be sad and grieve for what you never had, but you don’t have to wonder if you could have done anything differently.
You couldn’t. You can’t. You won’t.
You can let the hopes go–let them scatter in the wind. Your heart will break, but it’ll be for the last time. It’ll be the start to healing. And you’ll be able to move on with your head held high.