Don’t you love it when you crack open a book, and you KNOW it’s going to be good?
Before the movers came a couple weeks ago, I packed the book I was reading (duh!) and the one I wanted to read next. While I realized my optimism was likely getting the best of me, I thought it was better to be safe (i.e. have more books) than sorry (i.e. have nothing to read - a true tragedy).
After I finished the one I was reading a few days ago, I thought I had timed it perfectly. With the moving truck with all our stuff arriving this coming Monday, I had about a week until all the other books in TBR pile showed up.
So, I started reading “The Collected Regrets of Clover*” by debut author Mikki Brammer. Here’s the pitch from GoodReads: “a big-hearted and life-affirming debut about a death doula who, in caring for others at the end of their life, has forgotten how to live her own.”
Intriguing, right?
Once I started reading, I COULD NOT STOP. I was completely sucked into Clover’s story and the supporting cast of characters.
But this isn’t a book review - check out GoodReads for those.
What I adored about this book was how much the author made me think. As a writer, it’s also a great lesson in defining what your character wants and why, and the misbelief standing in her way of achieving it - I will be going back and taking craft notes on how Ms. Brammer did this!
As the book title and description suggest, the main character Clover knows a thing or two about regrets. In her job as a death doula she supports people on the verge of dying, and hears them all the time. Often, common themes emerge.
You know what they are:
I wish I hadn’t worked so much
I wish I had spent more time with my family and friends
I wish I worried less about what others thought
And so on…
I’m betting you can guess what your regrets are or will be. In fact, I think if most of us really thought about it, we would be able to identify the regrets we will die with. And yet, we don’t think about that, do we?
Because it’s depressing. And old habits die hard.
And also because, right now, each of us IS alive. Therefore, we have time (we think) to avoid or mitigate regrets.
At one point in the book, Clover ponders, “I was still here, still living. But was I just existing out of habit?”
Which got me thinking…. how much of our lives is done out of habit? Or, to be kinder, how much of what we do is done out of necessity?
Several years ago, I watched a video that has always stuck with me. In it, each day of your life is represented by a single jelly bean. It shows (cumulatively) how many days are spent doing habitual/necessary things, like: sleeping, eating/drinking and preparing food, working, commuting/traveling, watching TV, etc.
By the end of the video, there’s a relatively small pile of jelly beans left. The point of the video being: what will you do with that time?
Imagine if that small pile was comprised of doing things you would regret later: scrolling social media, waiting for things to happen, holding grudges, engaging in arguments, or feeling angry or resentful?
Imagine how you would do things differently if you were faced with a terminal diagnosis tomorrow?
Imagine if you could make those changes now? (without something catastrophic happening first)
What would you do or stop doing?
What is holding you back? What are you afraid of?
For me, I am confident one of my biggest regrets will be: not enjoying my children when they were young.
Wait, Sam - you say - aren’t your kids little?
Yup. I have a 5-year-old, an almost 3-year-old and am expecting.
However, I recognize I am not as present as I could or should be. I can be dismissive, condescending, sarcastic and much too impatient with them. These are things I know right now. And they are things I will come to regret if I don’t find a way to change them.
Every now and then, I stay up at night, beating myself up with mom guilt. Fixating on the flaws that keep me cycling the same behaviors (despite promises to myself and my kids to be more patient) and reminding myself of my future regret.
For a while, I get better. I take deep breaths and remember the kids are not deliberately trying to enrage me. I delete all the social media apps from my phone and put it in a place that discourages mindless scrolling when I should be coloring or playing with LEGO.
But…. old habits die hard.
A few weeks (okay, days… *cough* hours) later, I am right back to it. Snapping a snide remark, raising my voice, and doing all the other things frustrated, overworked, overtired parents do when they’ve reached the end of their wits.
I guess the important part is: I continue to recognize this as an area I need to improve. And I keep working on it, in fits and starts, hoping the good will outweigh the bad. Hoping my kids will remember the times of love and laughter and not For-the-Love-of-God-Stop-Licking-the-Bottom-of-Your-Shoe! mom.
I hope that when the time comes for me to go, and I think back on all the regrets and things I shoulda, coulda, woulda done, that I remember to give myself some grace.
And I hope you do too.
In fact, let’s start now. We wouldn’t want “not giving yourself grace” to be added to our collected regrets, now would we? :)
Anyway, if you’re looking for a great read that makes you think AND an engrossing story about an awkward, mid-30s woman trying to come to terms with her life, subscribe to this newsletter.
Kidding.
Read the book. Or do both. That would be great.
I’d love to hear what you think. Drop a comment or send me a note!
This is such a lovely read Samantha. I’m there too, my children are older, but still that guilt that I’m not taking every opportunity to be with them as much as possible is present.