No Regrets!

For most of my life, I wasn’t exactly ‘living’—I was just getting by.

Survival mode, ticking the boxes, meeting expectations, and keeping up appearances. Honestly, I didn’t have a clue who I was, and to top it off, I was utterly bored with it all.

Then Came the Babies

When I became a mum, something inside me shifted—like a switch flicked on that I didn’t even know was there. The moment I held my baby, this tiny human I’d grown from my own blood and bone, and somehow managed to bring into the world, it hit me: I had a mission now. A purpose. Everything felt different.

And I didn’t know then how controversial it would be to live my purpose. It still sends chills down my spine when I think about how the very things my biology was guiding me to do as a mother, or the lifestyle I was choosing to pursue, were the same things that were socially unacceptable or undesirable. From breastfeeding, to carrying my child on my belly, to co-sleeping. And this was only the beginning.

I couldn’t wrap my head around all the mum-and-baby activities everyone insisted I had to do. The endless early development programmes, playgroups, and classes—it all felt like a performance. Then there was the bigger message: staying home with your child was seen as lazy, and for ‘proper’ social development, kids supposedly needed to be packed away into childcare. My intuition didn’t buy any of it. What I really desired—what felt nearly impossible to find—were other mums who just wanted to hang out, let the kids play and grow naturally, and leave all the extra noise behind.

Bliss of Unconventional Motherhood

I’ll always thank my first child for making things extra hard for me—because, in a way, it left me no choice but to go against the grain. As he grew older, it became painfully clear that the typical environments for children just didn’t work for him. And to be honest, our unconventional ways weren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. I never planned to be an unconventional mum, but life had other ideas—and it’s a role I’ve grown into, whether I meant to or not.
Somehow, though, all of this made my deepest wish come true: I didn’t want to miss out on the fleeting years of my children’s lives. It wasn’t just about being physically present, but being fully engaged—emotionally and mentally. The idea of running on a hamster wheel, letting childhood pass by without truly living it, felt completely wrong. It was a quiet but powerful rebellion against the expectations the world had for me.

But to say our life was pure joy would be a lie. It was anything but. I was constantly doubted, sometimes even attacked, for my values. Society seemed to whisper—or shout—that you’re not meant to prioritise what’s good for your children. You’re not supposed to give them peace or happiness. Embracing nature and life? That’s seen as idealistic, almost naïve. And using your own wisdom and experience to guide your choices? Unthinkable.

The only things that kept me sane during those years were the people in the distance—the voices on social media—who reminded me we’re meant to live with purpose. Those who inspired me to work towards my dreams and goals, to dare greatly, and to keep going even when it felt impossible. And then there were the voices of those who looked back on their lives with regret, saying they wished they had...

Regrets of the Dying

One of the books that came to me as a reminder of why I was doing this was The Top Five Regrets of the Dying by Bronnie Ware. In it, Ware recounts her years as a palliative care nurse, interviewing patients in their final days. Over time, she noticed common themes in their reflections, and these became the basis for her book. She had the privilege of speaking to people from all walks of life, often hearing them express regrets about what they hadn’t done, what they’d missed, or what they had failed to prioritise.

The five regrets people most commonly shared weren’t about chasing fame, fortune, or success—things many of us are relentlessly pursuing in our day-to-day lives. Instead, they were about the things we often overlook in our pursuit of “more”: wishing they had lived more authentically, had nurtured deeper relationships, had given themselves permission to express their true feelings, had been more present, and had spent more time doing what truly brought them joy. The lives we often chase—the material goals, the external approval, the endless hustle—often leave us disconnected from what really matters. By the time we realise this, it’s too late to go back and change course.

I had felt, ever since becoming a mother, I would regret not choosing my children. That voice inside me was screaming loud. I had been pursuing the right things, and this book served as motivation to keep moving in this direction. I was creating a life with my children that I wouldn’t look back on with regret. Though it’s never easy to believe in yourself when it also means you’re constantly made to feel like a disappointment to others, or called a danger to your children. Still, over the past few years, I’ve come to embrace the idea that the way our life has evolved—and not all those choices were made intentionally—will offer my children something few children experience today: a life free from the pressure to hustle, compete, and constantly compare.

The Doubters

A while ago, I watched an interview with the author of the same book. I thought it would be interesting to hear her speak about the regrets of the dying, to see how she articulated these ideas in person. But a few minutes in, I had to stop the video. Because that’s when it hit me…

The people she talked about, who looked back on their lives with regret, are often the same ones who make life difficult for those of us still young and exploring. With all due respect to their experiences, they are the ones who, through their narrow-mindedness, doubt, lecture, and sometimes even sabotage those of us trying to live differently while we still have the chance. I’d rather be the one who takes my chances now, not when it’s too late. Why wait for the "wisdom" of the dying when I have my own life to live, fully and boldly? Now, I don’t want to diminish the lessons in that book. It’s important to hear the regrets of others, to reflect on what they missed, and to use that as a reminder to live while we have the chance.

Carpe Diem

For me, carpe diem (“seize the day”) is all the things mentioned as regrets in the book. The people, the moments, the feelings, and authenticity. For me, it’s about embracing life's challenges as opportunities to mature and grow, even if it means walking down less-travelled paths. It’s about discovering unexpected purpose amidst the chaos. For me, carpe diem also means continuing the search for that life-affirming community that I still haven’t found.

Each of us is unique, and some feel a deep, unshakable drive to embrace and express our idiosyncrasies. In a world that often feels monotonous and rigid, we desperately need those who bring spark, colour, and joy into it. Yet, this effort is not always met with openness or acceptance. If you’re one of those courageous souls, I want you to know how much I admire and celebrate you. I also understand how hard it can be to hold on to hope and motivation as you walk this path.

In the end, I think the mentined book (like many other) is a great reminder for anyone who’s wondering whether they’re living their life to the fullest. It’s a reminder of YOLO—you only live once—and you have to take the opportunities you have, now, before they slip away. But remember, what that means will be different for everyone. Whether it’s about embracing your role as a parent, chasing your dreams, or finding a community that lifts you up—take the time to reflect on what you want out of life. It’s worth it. Don’t wait until you’re looking back.

What do you think? Do you embrace change? Do you dare to chase your dreams? What would it look like if you started today? Please share with me below.