Regrets

My life has taken a slight turn in a different direction, with me left to decide if it was for the better or worse.  And while I have yet to discover which, I know one thing for sure: I do know that I don't regret any of what happened. 

After all,

"Never regret anything that makes you smile" -Mark Twain

And I smiled a lot.  In fact, I have been smiling uncontrollably the last few days.  And so, even if other people tell me I made a mistake and even if I did, I will not regret. 

So when a friend of mine told me that he thought I had made a huge mistake and was surprised when I told him I had no regrets about it, I go to thinking about that small yet monumental word which could make or break our life.

Regrets.

They seem to follow us everywhere. 

'I should have done this.  I could have done that.  I wish I had never done this.  Why did I ever do that?'

But honestly, what is the point in regretting a moment or a word or a mistake when every single piece of our lives makes us who we are?  It is self-destructive to regret who we are, so:

Why do we regret?

Until someone finally invents a time machine that allows us to travel back in time and correct mistakes, regrets can only hurt us. 

And to the next person who tells me I should regret a moment that I am perfectly happy with, I can only say I feel sorry for you.  You have not reached the level of self-content I have reached.  I can only hope someday you do, and realize that

"As you grow older, you will find the only things you regret are the things you did not do" -Zachary Scott

I Have Returned

About two weeks ago, I opened my laptop, I clicked the search box, and I typed in almost automatically, "sixteenandcluelss.blogspot.com", as I do every day.

But my blog wasn't there.  The bright orange colors I had become so accoustomed to lighting up my screen never appeared, and I was only left with a succint message from Google notifying me that my blog had been deleted.  I had no idea why; there was no explanation or warning, no goodbye's or time to save any of my posts, just a non-existent blog where there once was a place for me to pour out my hopes and dreams.

At first, I was shocked.  And then, I was it with a blast of complete and utter sadness, confusion, hurt, and anger.  I had poured an endless amount of time into this blog, so much so that I even shed a few tears, devastated that what I had used so much energy for was gone in the blink of an eye.

It's been two weeks, and I had slowly come to terms with the fact that it was gone, it wasn't coming back.  However, I still hadn't quite given up, and so I checked every once and a while, and was always met with the same Google message that broke my heart.

Until yesterday.  I still have no idea how or why, but somehow my blog has come back to life and I can return to the writing I love so dearly. 

Does anyone have any idea why my blog was deleted?  I am extremely terrified of it happening again, of me losing all of this tremendous work in the blink of an eye, so I will be very careful from now on.  And thank you to all of you who are reading this blog- you should know that it is a part of me, an essential part that I hope to never lose again.

Question Number 12: Overachievement

o·ver·a·chieve [oh-ver-uh-cheev]

to perform better or achieve more than expected, especially by others.

The last few days, I have just been so very tired.

I know that I do too much to handle.  I take every opportunity, participating in everything available to me and more.  This wouldn't be so detrimental if I didn't push myself to the absolute breaking point in everything, no matter how seemingly insignifcant, as I attempt to reach that unnattainable goal: perfection.

My list of things to do seems to grow with each passing day-On top of my honors classes and National Honors Society, I run cross country, I swim competitively, I am in my school musical, I have an after-school job as a lifeguard, and I volunteer as a tutor.  Oh, and I am forgetting the most important activity, the one that I am constantly reminded is my main focus, the one takes up hours and hours of my time: I study.  A lot.  I study so much that I lose sleep.  Which brings me back to the ever-present fact that I am so very tired.

And while I love everything I do with all my heart and throw my entire being to each activity, I can't help but ask myself:

 

When does achievement become overachievement?  When does it all become too much to handle?

 

Many would say that "too much to handle" is the point when you wake with a start and find your face stuck in the glossy pages of a text book in the late hours of the night.  But instead of sleeping, you go right back to studying.  And yet, this is a scene that has taken place in my room too many times to count. 

 

Again, I cannot stress enough that I do all that I do because I love it.  However, it often becomes less enjoyable when I am trying so hard to be the best at it.  I always have been a little too competitive.  For me, perfection is the goal, and anything less is only acceptable.  I do this to myself; I am my biggest critic.  I only allow myself praise when I have reached that stage that seems as close to perfect as I will ever be.

 

Madonna once said, “I became an overachiever to get approval from the world”
In my case, I became an overachiever to get approval from myself.