No regrets
Mother of the Munchkins
Bethany J. Royer
As I stated in a previous column I’ve been on the hunt for an answer as to why I had yet another failed marriage. Why I was at this point in my life, so unplanned, but not entirely unexpected either. I wasn’t even sure of the question, there were too many things to speculate, worry over, and frown upon.
Then… I found it!
I found my answer.
It was beneath my nose the whole time. I just hadn’t the capacity to open my eyes and the heart to see it. Not yet anyway. It was simple enough, not anything complex, and it certainly did not arrive with a chorus of angels and a wickedly bright light.
Actually, thank goodness it did not present itself with a bright light, if you know what I mean.
As much as we would all like for there to be this brilliant, truly memorable moment to put a nice touch on an epiphany that sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life. No matter how many times we read it in books or watch it flash before our eyes in movies.
The answers don’t come that way, wrapped in a neat two hour, made-for-TV special with the hero and heroine wrapped in each other’s arms as they whisper sweet nothings to one another and the enormous monster that’s terrorized the city swoops down to gobble them up.
Sorry, I’m a bit of a science fiction fanatic.
Nope, the answer began on Thursday when someone posed a very striking question to me. It was a member of my divorce support group who asked if I would have remarried so hastily after my first divorce if I’d the resources I have today. In short, if I’d a support group, way back when, would I be writing columns today about a second divorce?
My answer finalized itself, so to speak, as I ran my daily mile on the treadmill out in the garage. It came as I watched the leaves blow about outside with the wind in an absolute frenzy. There wasn’t a chorus of angels but some nice runner’s music piped through my ear buds from my cell phone.
I thought about the question from Thursday because I hadn’t answered her. I had no answer on whether I would have done things differently with the proper information in hand 12 years ago and it got me to thinking.
Why would I have wanted to change a single bit of it, anyway? I’d not a single regret.
Miraculously, after two failed marriages at an astounding 36 years of age, with two small children from my second, living beneath my mother’s roof with ten bucks to my name and practically nothing but the shirts on our backs and a half-garage full of mostly useless décor from our previous lives, I’ve no regrets, none.
Have I made mistakes? Sure, you bet, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I don’t regret a single one.
Could I have done things better or differently? Of course, but how can I regret being an imperfect human?
How can I regret anything over the last 36 years of my life if it has given me two awesome kids, a wonderful, supportive, if slightly abbreviated family, incredible friends, and a wicked sense of humor?
No way am I going to regret a single moment! I’ve learned too much, I’ve come too far, I’ve done far too many incredible things to ever look back and say I regret even so much as a smidgen of it. I’m not doing it.
I regret nothing.
That’s my answer.
I know what you are thinking, that this can’t possibly be the answer I was looking for, surely there’s more to it.
Nope.
I like it.
It’s simple, clean and to the point. There’s no part two, there’s no cliffhanger, there’s no maybes, sortas, and potential extras. Certainly there is no monster terrorizing the city. It just is what it is. Like everything else in life.
I’ve no regrets.
Not a one.
That’s my answer and I’m sticking to it.
The mother of two munchkins, Bethany J. Royer is an independent contractor and writer currently studying psychology with Florida Institute of Technology. She is actively seeking a publisher for her first completed novel while working on a memoir about her personal trials and tribulations with divorce.
She blogs prolifically at motherofthemunchkins.blogspot.com and can be reached at themotherofthemunchkins@yahoo.com.
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