I wish I wasn’t such a control freak. I wish that I wasn’t so easily wound up. I wish I was fitter. I wish I hadn’t regained my bacon belly after breastfeeding Jake made such good use of my extra blubber. I wish I hadn’t bought so many frumpy dull clothes when I was still earning my own money. I wish I didn’t have pillow-neck issues. I wish I didn’t look in the mirror and feel stricken about looking more like my mother every day. I wish my mother had been happier to be a mother. I wish she hadn’t lost both her parents when she was so young. I wish our kitchen window wasn’t so hard to open. I wish I was more into fruit. I wish we didn’t have a carpet in our bathroom. I wish we had our old garden rather than the long, thin, spider-trap that we have now. I wish my family lived nearby, or at least in the same country as me. I wish we were getting ready to move in with dear friends in a house in the beautiful Italian countryside. I wish doing something like that was even a realistic option. I wish I could pluck pockets of time out of thin air so I could give more of it to everybody. I wish I could write like my friend Jo. I wish I could be the sort of woman who can crochet exquisite baby booties and blankets and anything out of stunning organic wool and bake effortlessly for a family of four and be able to cope with having more than one child and still have enough time for myself without feeling like a permanent grouch. I wish the bit between my shoulder blades would stop aching all the bloody time. I wish I had better impulse control when it comes to buying shoes. I wish nursery hadn’t pressured me to start potty training Jake this month and I wish I’d found somewhere that didn’t have a problem with him not being potty trained by the time he’s three. I wish I didn’t hate talking on the phone. I wish I didn’t feel so guilty about everything. I wish we had a modern toilet with a flush I didn't have to pull. I wish veggie bacon tasted as good as the real thing. I wish I could do a full bridge pose. I wish, I wish, I wish.
But what’s the point? Like my yoga teacher says, wishing we could do more with our bodies doesn’t make it happen. We have to work with what we’ve got. It’s not just zen Buddhist philosophy, it’s a FACT. I am who I am. Life is what it is. It doesn’t mean I won’t ever change or it won’t ever change, but dwelling in the wishing is like weighing my pockets down with stones, walking into the sea and wondering why I’m sinking. Being aware of this doesn’t always make it easier to let go. But if I don’t, then how will I ever float?