Blue Pill, Red Pill, and a Whole Lot of Regret-Laced Wisdom
Let’s talk about the age-old hypothetical that showed up in my social feed this week and sent me spiraling into an existential time loop:
Naturally, I sent this to my best friend Shannon because if anyone was going to overanalyze it with me while also making it hilarious and slightly inappropriate, it’s her.
She picked 🅱️ the red pill. Bold move. I wasn’t sure yet. I was still mentally pacing.
So I asked her what she’d actually do with all that knowledge as a 6-year-old. Would she just be a really articulate kindergartener correcting adults? Or would she be a mini Warren Buffett hoarding Apple stock?
And then she hit me with:
“I don’t regret the experiences I’ve had because they made me who I am. But I’d be armed to make better choices and be a better person.”
Ugh. Okay. That one made me pause. Because I get it. That’s the hard part, right? We are shaped by the mess. The heartbreaks, the dumb decisions, the crying-in-the-car moments, the braces and bangs and that one time we dated someone who wore toe shoes unironically.
But also…
If I could go back to 1978, knowing what I know now? Oh honey.
I’d be investing in IBM and Apple like I was buying Halloween candy. I’d buy Google stock before Google was a verb. I’d force my mom to get checked for cancer sooner. I’d keep my dad out of Utah. I’d never meet the asshats I wasted years of my life on. (Y’all know who you are. Actually, I hope you don’t.)
I’d track down Shannon in 1980-something and say, “Look, we don’t have time for trial-and-error. You’re gonna avoid your asshats too.”
We’d save her brother. We’d save ourselves.
And Rick?
Well… that gets tricky. Because Rick’s got three amazing kids—the kind of kids who are a mess and magical in the same breath—and he wouldn’t want to live a life where they didn’t exist. But he sure as hell wouldn’t want them with her. (You know, her. The one who weaponized custody like it was a hobby and treats manipulation like a love language.)
So yeah. Even Rick would probably want a cosmic do-over with a strategic asterisk: “I’ll take the kids, Universe, but lose the narcissist.”
We’d be billionaire badasses flying first class, rescuing animals, eating carbs, and not giving a single menopausal sweat about what anyone thought. Basically Angelina Jolie meets Shark Tank meets The Golden Girls.
And THAT’S why I’m picking option 🅱️ too.
Would I miss some good moments? Sure. But if I know what I know now—I could recreate them better. With fewer dumb detours and significantly better eyebrows.
Sometimes, the gift of hindsight is wasted on the hypothetical. But maybe that’s the real point. We already have the knowledge now. So what the hell are we waiting for?
Take the trip. Start the damn business. Say no. Say hell yes. Get the checkup. Rescue the animal. Be the badass you were meant to be!
Also: for the love of all things holy—choose better co-parents (cough cough Rick)
You’re welcome.
– S
