My childhood friend, who lives in St. Louis, frequently e-mails me articles on various topics. A recent one was a summary of a book by Australian author and song writer, Bronnie Ware, entitled The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. It reflects her experience working, apparently, for a number of years with terminally ill patients receiving palliative care in various hospice-related programs.
Each of the “five regrets” evoked at least some response on my part, which I’m here sharing. Perhaps you will find the list evocative too. What are your responses? If you were giving yourself a grade on each of these, what would it be?
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This one strikes me as involving a delicate balance, somewhere between “I don’t care what others think,” and “I care too much.”
I once saw a sign in a hamburger joint, back in southern Illinois, where I come from. It said: “When I was 18, I didn’t care what others thought of me. And when I was 30, I cared too much about what others thought of me. But when I got to be 50, I realized that others weren’t thinking all that much about me after all.”
It’s easy to be “over-adapted” in either “compliant” or “rebellious” ways, neither of which is particularly autonomous. Except that rebellion often leads to more problems than does compliance. Unless, of course, one is rebelling against that which may be be toxic or lethal.
A former colleague of mine, for example–both of his triplet brothers had committed suicide. When I asked him what kept him alive, he replied: “Our dad was a tyrant. My brothers tried to please him and ended up letting him kill them. I, on the other hand,” he said, “I rebelled; I was the black sheep. And it saved my life.” Indeed, as examples go, that one’s pretty extreme.
If “autonomy” means “freedom,” the other side of that same coin is “responsibility.” As a psychotherapist, I help persons become more “in-trinsically” than “ex-trinsically defined.” The psychiatrist, the late Murray Bowen, spoke of this as becoming “better self-differentiated.” It’s a relative concept, meaning that too much of one’s emotional energy and subsequent behavior is not bound up in one’s circumstances or relationships.
Here’s perhaps the simplest example. Anytime I’m rebelling against anyone, they’re controlling me as much as when I’m trying too hard to please them. I encourage people to define their relationships and circumstances, rather than being defined by them. That’s not being “selfish.” Paradoxically, it’s likely more appropriately “considerate.” It’s being “more your own person” in the most authentic of ways.
2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
I’ve noticed that some people “complain” because of “how hard” they work, while others appear to “work hard” so that they can “complain.” That difference is important if we’re to live and work in reasonably healthy ways. It was, in fact, Sigmund Freud who said that the two most important things in anyone’s life are “leiben und arbeiten” (love and work).
There are at least two philosophies of “work.” One is to find a job that pays you as much as possible for as little effort and commitment as possible, so that you can spend more time and energy on what might be termed your “avocation” or “hobby,” what you “love” to do.
There are many examples of this. For instance, my dad’s mother wanted him to be a “teacher and coach.” Except that, in his lifetime, he could make more money working at a coal mine than at a school. So that’s what he did. Even though his greater joy and meaning came, not from working at the mine, but from serving on the school board, coaching little league baseball and teaching Sunday School, not to mention enjoying his family and working in our yard and around our house.
My life has been different, as I have embraced the other philosophy of “work.” It’s the Christian definition of “vocation,” or “calling.” I suspect I might have made more money working at something else besides being a minister, a teacher, a counselor, a writer. But then I would have been “working to live” rather than “living to work.” Since I actually get paid to do what I “love”–what I “like to do”–even as much as I have, in my life, “liked” (even “loved”) to play sports, sing in a choir, or play in a band (my “avocations”).
Where “work” is concerned, I believe the more we “define our job,” rather than letting “our job define us,” the less likely we will find ourselves “regretting” that we “worked so hard.”
And I should add that this particular “regret” sounds more typically male than female. Since most women seem to balance their vocational and personal/family lives better than do most men.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
Some people have been taught that it’s not OK to “feel.” Just as others have been taught to not “think.” I help people learn how to “feel and think” at the same time. So they don’t live a life full of such excuses as, “I was so mad (scared, sad, hurt) I couldn’t help it.” And as you may have noted, I’m referring here, primarily, to more “negative feelings.”
Just because someone has learned that it’s not OK to “feel,” doesn’t mean they don’t “feel.” Rather, such a “feeling” is often expressed as a different “feeling.” Since such persons have usually been taught that if some “feelings” are OK, certain others are not. I teach, rather, that there is no such thing as a “bad” or “wrong feeling.” The question is, instead: is this particular “feeling” appropriate or inappropriate, reasonable or unreasonable–and to what degree–given the circumstances?
This is called being “congruent.” Since feelings are energy, and when a feeling is “congruent,” it gives us energy. But when a feeling is “incongruent,” it not only drains our energy, it can often be destructive. “Congruent” feelings lead to problem-solving; “incongruent” feelings usually tend to make a problem worse. When our feelings are “congruent,” they become a “means to an end”; but when our feelings are “incongruent,” they become “an end in themselves.” In other words, when our feelings are “congruent,” we “get off of them” sooner and for the better; but when our feelings are “incongruent,” we’re just “getting off on them.” Transactional Analysis theory calls this our “racket”–our “favorite bad feeling.”
The better we understand, accept and implement what I’ve just explained, the more appropriately, effectively and constructively we will “express” our “feelings.” This may, or may not involve “courage.”
It’s also true that some people have learned that its’ not OK to “feel” and “express” (or how to express) more “positive feelings.” This is usually the result of their not having had such “positive feelings” expressed enough, or in appropriate ways toward them. The re-constructing of this confusion or mis-understanding may take some “courage.” Since such courage is usually necessary in learning and practicing anything new and different. Especially when it involves “feelings.”
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I get a high grade on this one. However, my wife and I disagree as to my motive.
She claims that I cultivate and nurture friendships with such devotion–both past and present–because I’m such a needy, insecure, solicitous person. And I understand how she might think that. Since she has no friends, much less any to “stay in touch with.”
For me, friendship is a “gift”; for her, it’s “bothersome” and “intrusive.” That’s because I think in “both/and” ways, whereas she looks at life almost exclusively on “either/or” terms. I don’t have to “like everything” about anyone in order to “like them.” For if that weren’t true, no one would “like me,” since there’s plenty about me not to “like.” What I’m describing is commonly called the “Golden Rule.”
I spend more time looking for what’s “right” about whomever, in contrast to my wife who can find something “wrong” with anyone–except her children–which surely merits her a “high grade” in the mothering business. By contrast, my mother wasn’t like that–she was, instead, good at finding lots of things “wrong” with me.
My wife reminds me consistently, that if I “like” anyone else, that somehow diminishes how much I “like” her. Our disagreement on this matter reminds me of the “Warm Fuzzies” fable. The belief, on the part of many, that “love” is finite. You only have so much to go around, so you’d better be careful how much “loving, caring or liking” you dispense.
Here’s a little test that I think relates to this subject. If someone appears to not remember you/your name, are you secure enough to introduce yourself? Or if you don’t remember their name, are you secure enough, while apologizing, to ask them? I think friendship works a lot like this. The less of a “score-keeper” you are, the more friends you’re likely to have. Or as someone has said: “If you want a friend, be one.”
5. I wish I had let myself be happier.
I prefer “joy” to “happiness.” Since the former has, for me, a deeper quality to it. While the latter can often be pretty superficial.
I think “joy/happiness” is always connected to “gratitude.” The difference between being thankful for what I have been given, or even achieved, rather than resentful over my failures, losses or disappointments., what I “didn’t get.”
I’ve also observed that the most consistently and authentically “happy” people I’ve known seem able to find such “joy” even when life can be difficult, demanding or discouraging. In other words, they’re not “all or nothing” people in how they think, love, work and live. Instead of making “bad things worse,” they do just the opposite: they take “bad situations” and either make them “better,” or at least “not worse.”
