Grieving Choices

We make choices every day. All sorts of choices.

We choose:

cereal over toast,
the red shirt over the floral print,
the comedy over the dark drama, and for me—
I always seem to choose the slow lane at the grocery store.

Choice is everywhere.

What I’m coming to realize more and more is that with each choice we make we are foregoing something else. When I choose the red shirt, I’m not choosing the floral print. I am foregoing the experience of that shirt on that particular day. Picking a shirt isn’t a huge deal (unless you’re 5 years old, in which case everything is a big deal–at least in my house!).

For most of us we make choices on a daily basis that do not carry significant adverse consequences; we move on, and think nothing of the seemingly trivial decision. Yet there are times where the decisions we make carry larger implications, and shape our path in life in ways that we cannot go back and change.

A while back, with the onset of a new decade in my life, I found myself pondering the choices I made in my 20’s and how they shaped my present circumstances.

As I looked back over a fairly formative decade my overwhelming sense was gratitude. My growing up years were not always steady, and there were some pretty rough patches along the way.

My twenties marked the safest and steadiest time in my life, a solid decade of healthier relationships, deepening friendships, and some pretty amazing opportunities educationally and professionally. I got married, had kids, finished school, plugged in to a job that I love, and got to watch my babies turn into bigger kids.

It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns though. There was cancer. More cancer. A miscarriage. Two dads died, and a brand new family member received a palliative diagnosis shortly after birth. There were hard parts.

Yet these experiences both good and hard were shaping, enriching, community building, marriage strengthening, and have helped grow me into the person I am today. Gratitude for the goodness and hardness of that decade was ringing through loud and clear.

But as a few months after 30 passed, I was surprised by another companion.

As the months wore on I felt a deep sense of longing and sorrow setting in.

Whaaaaattt????

I was surprised and taken aback as I noted a pang of heartache when I thought of my twenties. There wasn’t just gratitude, but also a sense of wonder, sadness, and longing for what wasn’t.

Let me be clear. This wasn’t regret.

I got married mighty young, but choosing my husband was one of the best decisions of my life. It is followed closely by choosing to have kids and become a parent. These have and always will be good choices that I am so happy to have made.

What I was feeling wasn’t regret over the choices I had made, rather it was grief over the choices I had to give up.

Figure at a fork making decision with text: "Regret and grief are 2 distinct responses. It's ok to be sad about what I missed out on without feeling like what I picked was a poor choice. Quote by Sabrina Friesen at Conexus Counselling

Apparently the onset of a new decade was a ripe time to reflect on all that I didn’t choose, and what followed in the months after this new feeling settled in was an increasing awareness of all I didn’t get to pick.

Naming these things became part of honoring the experience of loss.

It was with fairly regular frequency that I found myself sorrowful over the choice to not travel, explore, be frivolous with money, stay out later, spend more time with friends, date more, to be selfish with my time, to not have to worry about anyone other than me…turns out there was a lot that I elected to forgo in order to move forward in the life I live. In choosing this path, I missed out on lot of other things that would have also been really wonderful.

Thankfully this undercurrent of loss did not compete with the delight and gratefulness which filled my heart when I thought of my present circumstances.

My life is wholly good and I am so happy with the choices I’ve made. But I hadn’t realized how space to lament what was given up would also factor into the equation.

What I wonder is what would have happened if I hadn’t recognized this heartache as grief…

I wonder how many people mistake sorrow for regret, and “evidence” of a poor decision that needs to be changed or modified. Click To Tweet

I wonder how sadness over what we have not chosen can create distance in relationships that are important and meaningful.

And I wonder what would happen if we were able to see regret and grief as two distinct responses.

Regret competes with the present, suggesting it was not the best choice. Grief simply says that in making a choice, you had to lose the other options. And losing stuff is sad. Yet this sadness over what wasn’t does not need to compete with the capacity to be content in the present.

Through conversations about, reflection on, and tears over what I didn’t choose, I have experienced a deeper sense of connection and joy in my present. It is okay to be sad about what I missed out on without feeling like what I picked was a poor choice. And this, folks, has been huge. Because part of me might be sad that I didn’t have the chance to date more doesn’t mean I am not happy with my husband. Because I grieve being able to spend a whole Saturday doing whatever I want doesn’t mean I don’t want or love or adore my children. Missing out on chances to see the world because of choices to invest in school, a house, and a family doesn’t mean I picked the wrong path. It simply means I grieve for what could have been but didn’t get to be.

In choosing one, I am not choosing another. And in leaving something behind there is the opportunity for loss and longing. It’s kind of like picking dessert at a restaurant…you can be really excited for the cheesecake while still looking longingly at the brownie.

Both can be good.

Neither is a bad choice, but you can still love the cheesecake and long for a bite of brownie while being totally okay that you could only choose one.

Regret says, “That choice wasn’t a good one for me” where grief says, “Wow, making choices is hard and giving something up feels sad.”

While it seems contrary to be able to be content and sorrowful at the same time, I’m going to guess that it’s something we could all use a little practice doing. Being able to make space for the anti-choice, the thing we didn’t choose, it’s not always comfortable or easy—but it allows us to feel the full scope of emotion about a given situation.