Hindsight is underrated.

Most of us appreciate its value, in hindsight. There are an unlimited number of things I’ve learned the hard way. I wish I’d had much more foresight, but who wants to coast through life? You don’t learn much when you’re always winning.

But then there are the things I thought I knew and was certain of their importance, and with time and hindsight, I’ve realized are not. Here are a few I’ve tried on and discarded like acid-washed jeans.

– Geometry: Proofs were one of the most unpleasant parts of junior high, and there was no shortage of discouraging parts during those awkward teen years. But proofs made me feel like there was something wrong with my brain, as I could not once come up with the rules to prove a rectangle was a rectangle, or whatever we were tasked with proving, and my schoolmates seemed to have no such struggle. All these years later, my suspicions were correct – not once have I done a lick of geometry, or at least any overt geometry. Maybe I do geometry when I’m parallel parking, at which I am stellar. Too bad that wasn’t a class.

– Having perfect hair or perfect anything appearance-related: I wince remembering all that time and energy I put into washing, drying and styling my hair every day. Guess what? Nobody really cares, as long as you don’t arrive looking like a raccoon who just climbed out of a gutter in the spring. And even then, I don’t think people would give it too much thought. My mindset changed due to age, a desire to spend my precious and dwindling hours of life doing anything but hair maintenance, and also when a kind hairstylist told me I was creating a balding spot due to over-styling. Thank you, honest human, for pointing out my blind (bald) spot. Realizing nobody cares if it’s perfect was the sweetest taste of freedom since getting my first apartment.

– Always saying the perfect thing: As you read this, I’ve likely already said three things I wish I could take back. Saying the wrong thing can keep me up at night, and sometimes it still does, but it’s more freeing to realize: Nobody cares about this either. They might have the tiniest record scratch moment about something you said that seemed off, but five minutes later, it no longer takes up space in their head. They have moved on with their day, consumed by all the things that keep them up at night, and there is no room for you in the mix.

– Knowing everything: I now know I don’t have to. And neither do you. I’m letting us all off the hook. Why do we think we should know all the things? Why is it so hard for so many of us to say I don’t know? We are each experts in different areas. Let’s share the wealth of our knowledge.

– Closure: This is relationship propaganda. Long ago, women’s magazines planted lots of false things in my psyche, including that we need to tie things up with a big, fat bow at the end of a relationship to move on healthily. I disagree. Sometimes things just end and feel a little messy. Life is messy. This does not mean I advocate ghosting a relationship. It’s very painful to be on the receiving end of a ghosting, so don’t do that.

– Being cool: Trendy, hip opinions? I had them. Were they what I actually liked and believed? Not always. But I knew they’d make me look cool: the obscure bands, the hippest beers, telling people I didn’t like small dogs. And today? I live with and adore small dogs, I only really ever liked one Wilco song, and if I still drank alcohol, I’d happily guzzle a Coors Light. These days, I’m confident in my average tastes and uncool opinions. I enjoy the uncoolest among us – the ones who own their tastes and ideas and aren’t afraid to express them.

– Being agreeable: It feels good to disagree, and I wish I’d done it much sooner in adulthood. I channeled my inner rebel early in life, in my pre-teens and teens, as I’m sure my parents would agree. But then that disagreeable streak went underground as I entered the world, and began to go along to get along, afraid to dissent from the hive mind. My people-pleasing skills were well-honed. But it’s a challenging and worthwhile journey to dissent and be willing to be unliked.

– Being famous: My high school dream was to be a great actress, to scuttle the sidewalks of New York City, audition for roles, storm Broadway, and brandish a Tony Award. As a kid, I often sat on the front steps of my family’s home on the east side of Colorado Springs, daydreaming that a Hollywood agent would drive by and discover me. Fame and celebrity would nourish me like manna from heaven. And now? You couldn’t pay me to be famous and have everyone in my business all the time, snapping photos of me in grocery store parking lots looking like that aforementioned raccoon. Fame doesn’t seem to solve problems, but creates new ones.

– Having it all together: I don’t, you don’t, and we never will. And that’s OK.