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I think it starts when we're kids; I know it did with me. When I learned by making mistakes, and then thought, "Well, I know better. NEXT time I'll..." do it differently, or do something else. Take another approach. Not attempt whatever it was it at all. But the "NEXT time," took root. I don't know if anyone else has this habituated response to error, or if it's just me.
When we had StE, we had a houseguest, a friend of mine from school who had been on a walking tour of Europe, and rather than flying directly home when her tour was done, she suggested she come by to visit, help me get ready for the baby, and keep me company until he was born. I thought that was a wonderful idea. It had been months since I'd seen her, and H's days were long; I was lonely for a large part of the days. And at first it was really nice to have her. After a few days, though, things fell apart. She was tired, she missed her family and her boyfriend, and rather than helping out, she wound up taking advantage of me as a host. When the baby came, she wanted to sit and hold him every minute, while H and I sort of looked at each other and wished she wasn't there. She didn't help, she got in the way. "NEXT time I bring a baby home from the hospital," I promised myself, "we won't have anybody here but us." My mom offered to come and help when StY was imminent, and at first I thought, "Great! She'll be willing to help out around the house so I can spend some quality baby time." But then I remembered the fiasco with StE, and decided to ask her to come at Christmas instead. And of course, when we brought the baby home, there wasn't as much need for just-us bonding, and we could actually have used the help. So I amended my thought to, "NEXT time I bring a *first* baby home, there will be just us."
Um. Next time we bring home a *first* baby? That was when I first began to suspect there was a leak in my logic. Through the years, as I've learned by my mistakes, I've always had the "NEXT time..." thought. And since I don't believe in reincarnation, it sort of bothers me that I'm learning all these good life lessons and I'll never have the opportunity to put most of them to use.
Next time I won't spend my 20s eating all the anger and sadness of my childhood. Next time I'll get up off my ass and learn to love moving, running, climbing, something active where I can shed all that emotional garbage and get rid of it. Next time I'll believe people when they tell me I write well, and that I should pursue a career in writing. Next time I'll go back to school, even part-time, and get a degree. Any degree would give me entree into jobs that wouldn't consider me now--not that the degree would teach me any more, but the piece of paper works like a key. Sometimes. Next time I'll fall in love with more than one person, over many years, and believe that none of those loves is the last, or the only. Next time, I'll be tall....
My very firm belief that this is all there is, there is no afterlife, and no second chances, does not make a dent in my list of Next time....
When we had StE, we had a houseguest, a friend of mine from school who had been on a walking tour of Europe, and rather than flying directly home when her tour was done, she suggested she come by to visit, help me get ready for the baby, and keep me company until he was born. I thought that was a wonderful idea. It had been months since I'd seen her, and H's days were long; I was lonely for a large part of the days. And at first it was really nice to have her. After a few days, though, things fell apart. She was tired, she missed her family and her boyfriend, and rather than helping out, she wound up taking advantage of me as a host. When the baby came, she wanted to sit and hold him every minute, while H and I sort of looked at each other and wished she wasn't there. She didn't help, she got in the way. "NEXT time I bring a baby home from the hospital," I promised myself, "we won't have anybody here but us." My mom offered to come and help when StY was imminent, and at first I thought, "Great! She'll be willing to help out around the house so I can spend some quality baby time." But then I remembered the fiasco with StE, and decided to ask her to come at Christmas instead. And of course, when we brought the baby home, there wasn't as much need for just-us bonding, and we could actually have used the help. So I amended my thought to, "NEXT time I bring a *first* baby home, there will be just us."
Um. Next time we bring home a *first* baby? That was when I first began to suspect there was a leak in my logic. Through the years, as I've learned by my mistakes, I've always had the "NEXT time..." thought. And since I don't believe in reincarnation, it sort of bothers me that I'm learning all these good life lessons and I'll never have the opportunity to put most of them to use.
Next time I won't spend my 20s eating all the anger and sadness of my childhood. Next time I'll get up off my ass and learn to love moving, running, climbing, something active where I can shed all that emotional garbage and get rid of it. Next time I'll believe people when they tell me I write well, and that I should pursue a career in writing. Next time I'll go back to school, even part-time, and get a degree. Any degree would give me entree into jobs that wouldn't consider me now--not that the degree would teach me any more, but the piece of paper works like a key. Sometimes. Next time I'll fall in love with more than one person, over many years, and believe that none of those loves is the last, or the only. Next time, I'll be tall....
My very firm belief that this is all there is, there is no afterlife, and no second chances, does not make a dent in my list of Next time....