The sad truth is that I think about this every day of my life. As far back as I can remember, even at age 8 or 9, I was wishing I could live my life over. Which is really pitiful for a kid that young to already have such regrets or miseries that she wants a “do-over.”
The only difficult part for me would be things I know I can’t change, or have very litttle possibiity in changing. I’ve documented elsewhere my ridiculous over-empathy with inanimate objects; that goes quadruple (at least) for my loved ones. With my cats now, for example, I hate knowing stuff they don’t know – like that I’m going to be taking them to the vet and they have no idea where they’re going or that I’m about to put them in a carrier and uprooting them. And that’s just for average vet visits, y’know?
So could I really live my childhood and watch my mother knowing she’s going to get lung cancer when I’m 18 and die when I’m 19? I suppose I could spend most of my time trying to get her to stop smoking, but what are the odds she’d listen? Plus, the damage might have already been done by then. Wouldn’t this knowledge inform me terribly throughout my childhood? Yes I’d get to see her again, and pay more attention to her, and be less self-absorbed and oblivious than a kid is, and I’d have conversations with her that were more meaningful and ask her more about herself and do my very best to get her into therapy of some kind so she could eventually maybe forgive herself for my brother’s death (which would be impossible for me to prevent since it happened before I was born).
I’d obviously be looking for the signs of her illness earlier instead of, um, never until I was told she was ill. Could I watch that whole horror show knowing she’s doomed? I don’t know. I have a dread feeeling I’d end up doing purposely what my 19-year-old self did subconsciously: back away from her, cut off my feelings, try to sever myself so I would hypothetically be less tormented by her death. It didn’t work when my mind kept me in denial subconsciously, of course. I would know in advance that her pointless last trip to this experimental snake oil-esque treatment center in the Bahamas was doomed. Would I go with her this time, instead of stay home to be musical director of a stupid community theater show? Would I want to see her die instead of being thousands of miles away at the time?
Usually when I have my daily fantasy wishing I could live my life over again knowing what i do now, I make the caveat that I’d start right after my mother’s death. If that weren’t a possibility, it would be a very difficult decision to make. But considering everything else that I could change, I think I’d almost have to go for it.
Aside from that, sadly I have nothing in my life now that I would worry about losing, except my cats, and I guess what I’d try to memorize is the day I found them on Petfinder so I could adopt them again. I’d try to do a better job in school and focus more intensely on singing, music and studying theater, and I’d take dance and take much better care of my physical form than I did. I’d work toward going to Juilliard or even Yale School of Drama isntead of going to crappy a crappy state school because I didn’t care where I went to college originally. I’d demand my parents put me in therapy as soon as I was able to influence them, because I’d still be clinically depressed --as I said, my brother would still be dead, my mom would still be depressed and guilty over that for years until/unless I were able to convince her and my father to get some counseling for something that happened before I was born.
I wouldn’t be as intimidated by my father and might have a better relationship with him, instead of waiting until he was in his last ten years of life to finally forgive him for being with someone else after my mom died.
Maybe I’d have a spouse. Maybe I’d have kids. I don’t know because these were things I was never mentally healthy enough to consider as possible goals. I’d save my father from dying from a stupid falling accident, though that would mean he’d probably end up dying a few years later, older and less vital a man than he was. That would be hard too. Hopefully through long years of therapy that started much earlier, I would be able to live my life without as much fear and regret and doubt. I suppose there’s a risk my sisters wouldn’t meet their future husbands, and worse, that my amazing niece woudln’t be born. But I’d try to have as little impact on my oldest sister’s life as possible so that hopefully her marriage and thus niece would be the same.
On the less personal issues, I’d try to save John Lennon and Phil Hartman; I’d call in specific bomb threats to United 93 and so on before September 11; a few years earlier I’d write Al Gore and forewarn him that his election was going to be stolen; I’d do everything in my power to destroy GWB’s campaign. I’d also write a letter warning Clinton against the Leweinsky affair, but I doubt I’d be able to prevent him from being a dog and hurting his reputation and thus his VP’s chances for election.
Oh, I’d rewrite the Harry Potter books myself before Rowling had a chance to. Duh.