The Five Regrets

Sometimes, when I am struggling with a difficult or challenging asana, and I want to leave the pose, I try to encourage myself to stay and explore the discomfort by asking myself, “what if this was your last minute on Earth? What if this was your last moment of living?” This inquiry allows me to appreciate the strain on my muscles and the pressure of the deep stretch as delicious sensations rather than suffering that I wish to avoid. The thought that what I am feeling right now might be the last thing I ever feel somehow has the power to turn pain into pleasure, giving me gratitude for all that my body can withstand and experience. You can apply this to any uncomfortable or undesirable experience. What if standing in line at the grocery store or scrubbing the toilet was the last thing you were ever going to do? Then, would the sounds and sensations of that mundane or annoying experience become vivid and precious?

Living through a pandemic has many people, including myself, feeling a massive shift in their priorities. It is a more conscious reminder that death can occur at any time, that we do not know when it is going to occur, and that we have very little control over it. Reading in the news about the “great resignation” and the massive migration of people out of the cities and into the countryside, the renewed interest in the spiritual and in homesteading or living closer to nature is further evidence that with this era of turmoil and trauma, there is also somewhat of a great awakening happening. People are realizing that there is more to life than consumption and commercialism, that mental health matters, that family is more important than financial success, and that we are all linked to one another and the universe. Perhaps instead of reviewing our lives at their ends, it is time to review and revise as we go, while we still enjoy the ability to make drastic changes.

Bronnie Ware, an Australian palliative nurse, wrote a book called The Five Regrets, which is about her observations and conclusions after interviewing those near the end of their lives over the course of her long career. She noted that, near death, people often have a sudden clarity of vision about their lives and themselves, and she uncovered a definite pattern to the wisdom these patients shared with her. Her book is an effort to share this wisdom with others. There were five main themes that were repeated over and over again.

I wish I lived a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

I was raised in a fairly traditional middle-class household, went to church every Sunday, had a mom who stayed home and took care of the kids, a blue-collar dad, three siblings and a dog. I was expected to get good grades, stay out of trouble, go to college, and have a similarly traditional life. For the most part, I feel that I fulfilled those expectations and that it was not a hardship on my part to do so. I’ve always been a very independent person, but I know that when I was young, I lived for my parents’ approval, and at times they were quite strict with me. I’m not sure how things would have turned out had I been more resistant to outside forces. I think I chose this life...It is hard to tell, looking back, if I would have done things differently.

One thing I can say is that I do live authentically now. I’ve had to leave people behind, choose myself, set boundaries, say no, and be unapologetically honest in order to get here, and I am sure I have offended people along the way. I do know, however, that when I look back at the trail of abandoned jobs and ruined friendships, there are none that I would choose to salvage today.

There have always been aspects of my life that have been “outside the lines” so to speak, and I have not deviated in those ways, only now I live them in full view rather than in secret. I left the Catholic church when I was 19 and have developed my own eclectic mix of Buddhism, witchcraft, and spirituality over the past 20 years, but it was not until the past few years where I allowed that part of myself to be viewable to the “general public” and my family. I’ve chosen alternative ways of living my life; teaching yoga, homeschooling, and practicing sustainability. I don’t worry so much about anybody else’s expectations of me, and that freedom is exhilarating. I feel sympathy for those who would live under the weight of expectations their whole lives, and hope that all beings are able to escape from that before they are too old to feel this freedom.

I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.

I have always been a hard worker. I married another hard worker, and we work hard together. I was hard on myself as a student my entire life; pulling all A’s every semester, every year. I pursued each of my degrees relentlessly. While the rest of our friends were partying, my husband and I bought land, logged it ourselves, and built our house with our own blood sweat and tears. My husband built a successful construction business, I got a Master’s degree with a baby on my hip, and I dove passionately into my teaching career.

Teachers are encouraged to give everything they have to their job. We are asked to volunteer, stay late, come in early, skip lunch, go to dances and games and events, bring in supplies, donate… the more you give the more they ask for, it never ends. As a new teacher and a hard worker, I assumed this was normal. A few years in, I started to develop health issues. I had chronic pain, anxiety, depression, digestive issues, food allergies and sensitivities. I pushed through. That’s what hard workers do, right? I went to massage therapy, physical therapy, allergists, GI Doctors, chiropractors, and took medications. My sixth year teaching, I started to resent what my job was doing to my health, as it had become clear to me that the stress was the cause of my suffering. My seventh year, with my fifth new administrator, I was apathetic, the passion drained out of me. I cried in my car after work. My eighth year I resigned. I spent 15 years total in public education, working with Special Education students. I was completely drained.

Now I teach four one-hour yoga classes per week. I spend hours blogging, planning my classes, practicing my yoga sequences, and marketing myself, but I enjoy it and I do it when I want to. I sleep eight hours every night. I have time to journal, to meditate, to take care of myself, my family, and my home. I still work hard; in my garden, in my studio, at all the things I am passionate about, but I no longer work to a bell schedule. I no longer feel that crushing guilt of having to ask for a day off to be sick, and I no longer sacrifice who I am and what I believe just for a paycheck. I can't afford to buy fancy things. But I am living my life. After all these years I have become a human being, NOT a human-doing.

I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Expressing yourself was never much of a problem in my house growing up. We were a loud family. To this day, my husband says it’s impossible to watch a tv show with all of us, because we talk about the show as it’s happening! Being one of six, there was no lack of arguing, crying, laughing, and yelling in my childhood home. Then, I married into a family that is much more reserved when it comes to self-expression, and that has been a struggle in my marriage, because I exist as a running commentary of every thought and feeling that passes through me while my husband needs to be drawn out and encouraged to express himself.

Where my struggle has lied, however, is in fulfilling others’ expectations of me when it comes to how I express my emotions. Those of you who know me well know that I am not a hugger. I do not enjoy the sensation of being embraced, jumped on, tackled, or danced closely with. I prefer to initiate physical contact with people in my own way and in my own time. I understand that this is disappointing for people who love me and enjoy giving hugs at every greeting and goodbye, but I’ll admit that what makes them feel loved makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable.

I show people that I love them in other ways; through home cooked meals and quality time spent together, gifts and verbal expressions of support and encouragement. I count my friends who understand and respect my boundaries as the ones I love best, and I hope that I do a good enough job of expressing myself in my own way, but I don’t plan to force myself to change to make other people feel good. I have the courage to express my feelings in my own way AND the courage to advocate for what makes me feel the most comfortable at the same time.

I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

My friendship history is an interesting one. I have had many great friends in my life, close friendships, fun ones, friendships full of drama and angst, and friendships that I’m not sure, looking back, were actually friendships. I have lost touch with nearly all of my friends from my younger years at this point, and have made new ones as my life has grown and changed. The friends of my youth were great for what they were, but would no longer serve me now. As I’ve evolved, the aspects of friendship that I value have also evolved. I am sure that I would no longer be what my old friends would want for themselves, either, and there are no hurt feelings.

I spent my twenties trying to cling to everyone. My life was changing so fast back then, and I think I was afraid. In my thirties, I turned inward. When my old friends could no longer make commitments or respond to messages or calls, I stopped pursuing them and they faded out of my life. I realized that I was the one single thing holding those relationships together. It was a relief to let them go, although I mourned them and struggled with loneliness.

Now, I have friends who share my common beliefs and interests, we are respectful of each other’s time (we all have families and careers), and that undercurrent of competition and jealousy that often accompanies female friendships is absent this time. But I have changed. I no longer need my friends. I love and care for them and I adore spending time with them, but I also have the knowledge that all things end, that we might lose touch someday in the far future, and if we do, I will be okay. I am confident that as my life changes, the universe will provide to me the people who I need at that stage.

I wish I had let myself be happier.

Have I always been happy? Of course not. Life is full of a range of experiences, and not all of them can be positive. Am I happy now? Yes. I do not think that my happiness has everything to do with choices or events or outside influences, however. I think that I am happy because I am learning to let go. Buddhism teaches the concept of non-grasping, letting go of desire because wanting things causes suffering. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my need for control (I am a recovering control freak) and how unhappy it has made me in the past. I still struggle with it. With age and experience, as well as a lot of practice, I have started to accept things as they are more often. I spend less time in the “not yet” so that I can be present in the “right now.” This has helped.

I have also made drastic changes to my life in order to more fully align with the person I want to be and the life I want to live (of course, I’m not sure what would happen if I wanted to be a famous rock star at this point!). I am fully aware that I can’t hide out in my yoga studio and home school my daughter forever; someday I’ll need to get a “real” job again; I have responsibilities. My next challenge will be figuring out how to take the happiness I have created and bring it with me into the next stage of my life, whenever that comes into being. All I know is that for the second half of my life I plan to allow myself to let go of control and allow happiness to come to me more often.

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For those of you who are doing shadow work or looking for themes to explore in your journal, meditation, or otherwise in your wellness journey, I encourage you to examine these five regrets within the context of your own life. Do you live a life that is true to yourself? Do you work too hard sometimes? Do you express your feelings in a way that works for you? What is the state of the friendships in your life, both past and present? Are you happy? Reflect on these aspects of your life now, instead of on your deathbed. Turn these reflections into affirmations for how to better live your life so that, in the end, you leave this world with no regrets.

“The impermanence of life is what makes it so beautiful.”