I have many regrets in life and that is probably the root of my depression. Two major ones include not being a theater kid in high school and not being a librarian.

I was forced by my parents and teachers into doing march band for five years. I would have been eight but I didn’t get into the college marching band and was allowed to quit after my freshman year of athletic band (supports hockey/basketball instead of football). Now, don’t get me wrong, I had a bunch of friends and had fun throughout my marching band time. What I regret is not being able to be in the theater club in high school.

I love plays and musicals. I would have thrived as a theater kid. But my parents’ ambition for me to be in the college marching band overshadowed my desire to try out for the play. I just wanted to make them proud. I bought into the hype just to find out the college band was a toxic, gaslighting, alcoholic environment. I’m glad I got cut from tryouts.

I tried to quit band between middle school and high school but my band teacher refused to let me. I was decent without trying very hard. I was first chair French horn in high school mostly because I was the only person willing to learn how to play the French horn. I really wish I did choir though. I loved my voice more than I enjoyed being in band. But it wasn’t my choice to make.

I bet I would have been miserable in choir though. My high school choir was what the “cool” clique did for their art credit. I was a fat, neurodivergent, actively traumatized at home child. I barely fit into marching band and that was where the rejects were. They were my people. So, I guess I shouldn’t regret marching band. I just resent that it wasn’t my choice.

Second major regret was not pursuing library sciences for a career. I mean, I guess in retrospect, I would have hated being a librarian. I hate children. I’ve hated children ever since I was a child. They are always thrust upon me when I’m around them since I am a woman? People just trust me when their offspring? It’s annoying.

But back to library sciences, I was encouraged to look for a lucrative career in college. In defiance of my parents, I went into psychology. I was a victim of a barrage of “you won’t make money in psychology.” It was all my boomer parents cared about. I was misunderstood most of my life, so, studying psychology made sense as I tried to understand the misunderstood.

I never wanted to be a therapist. I recognize a weakness of mine is unregulated emotional sensitivity. I am super empathetic and take on everyone else’s mood. I burned out as a rape crisis advocate after a year. I would suck as a therapist and would have burned out super quickly. I wanted to go into research. I wanted to help remotely. Not hands on.

Aaaand back to library sciences again. I love books. I’ve loved books since before I could read. It was one of the only things my father did to benefit me. To show any sort of caring. Books are a passion of mine.

Monetizing a passion doesn’t always work out though. Especially with adhd. I would have moved on by now. The fact that I have 8+ years in my actual career is a marvel. I give up and move on so quickly. I hate that part of myself. I don’t know how to fix it. My apartment is filled with half-finished projects and crafting materials I never use. It’s a problem.

So, regret is a misnomer, I’m content with where I am. Every decision I’ve made has lead me to finally being comfortable in myself.

Thank you, dear reader, if you’ve made it this far, for sitting with me while I process all of this. I appreciate you. Take care.