I’ve made a lot of what most people would say were mistakes in my life. I’ve had bad perms, questionable boyfriends and dreadful jobs. But I was raised with the theory that there are no wrong decisions, just different life experiences.
My dad used to say when faced with a “Y” in the road, going down one path will get you blackberries and going down the other will get you raspberries.
Now a parent of teenagers myself, I’m learning that this fruit analogy is useful in raising thoughtful, critical thinkers. What we often think of as mistakes are just the results of our decisions that we must live with and learn from.
I was 21 years old when I asked my dad to “loan” me money to buy a plane ticket to Korea. I had no means to pay him back. I had just graduated from college and was ready to start my career as a dental assistant. I knew nothing about Korea, but my new boyfriend was moving there to teach English and urged me to go along.
Two things had been true up until that point: I wanted to travel, and I always had a boyfriend. Combining the two felt like a great opportunity. I got the “loan” and bought the ticket, but as the departure date approached, I started to have doubts. I had no interest in Korea as a country and my college diploma did not qualify me to teach English there. A little belated, I started to ask myself some important questions: Why did I want to go to Korea? What was I hoping to gain from the experience?
Two weeks before I was set to leave, I drove to my hometown to welcome home my stepsister. She had spent a year in Argentina as a Rotary exchange student and was different: confident, glowing, emboldened. I felt clear for the first time since I’d bought my ticket—I wanted to feel like my sister did. I had answered my own question, but the answer wasn’t ideal because my ticket, which had cost about the same as my first car, was non-refundable. And I no longer had an apartment or a job.
In a panic, I called my dad and begged him to tell me what to do. Instead, he helped me weigh my options, reminding me that I was young and relatively free and that it would never be easier to travel and have adventures. On the other hand, I had a good life waiting in Victoria. Korea was blackberries. Victoria was raspberries.
I cancelled my ticket, said goodbye to my boyfriend and started my life in Victoria.
I have a teenager myself now and I understand how difficult it is to let her make her own decisions, especially when I think I know what’s best for her.
Recently, she had to choose between fun and responsibility. Her high school basketball team’s wrap-up party was on the same night that her other basketball team was playing in the semi-finals of a tournament.
My daughter had worked hard all season and deserved to celebrate with her school team. On the other hand, she had made a commitment to her other team, and they needed her. The FOMO was real, but so was the reality of letting her team down.
I did what my dad had done with me. I highlighted the two options and the possible outcomes of each choice, and I let her choose. My daughter decided to forgo the party and play in the game, joining the school party for what remained of it.
I’d like to think that she had a moment of clarity about her personal values and insight into her character, but I wouldn’t know. Like many teenagers, she only comes out of her bedroom to eat or ask for money or a ride. But I do know she learned something about herself and that, thankfully, this can’t be another thing she blames me for.
I eventually made it to Europe and travelling was every bit as wonderful as I had imagined all those years ago. When we trust ourselves, and our children, to make informed decisions, we clarify what matters the most to us, and that can never be wrong.
Most decisions involve some type of compromise. There are costs and benefits to everything, which my dad can confirm because I still haven’t paid him back for the ticket.
