Would you be willing to erase yourself?

Hey guys,

It’s been a minute…

As some of you know, I’m back out in Alberta for work. Twelve-hour days, six days a week, for the next six months. Which certainly wasn’t in the plan. In fact, I had told myself I’d never have to return. Yet here I am… boots covered in oil and dirt, back in the routine.

And truthfully, it’s really not that bad. The company treats me well, I enjoy most of the people I work with, and I definitely can’t complain about the money. But still, there's this lingering voice in my head asking, “How did I end up back here?”

As you may have noticed, it’s a common theme in my writing. A reflective way of thinking about how some of life’s hardest turns are born from mistakes. Plans fall apart. Expectations crumble. And sometimes, life simply leaves you with no option but to pivot. But over these last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about an even deeper realization:

If I had the power to go back and correct every mistake I’ve ever made…

I’d erase the very person I’ve become.

Because every wrong turn taught me a lesson. Every setback forced me to grow. Every painful decision added another layer to who I am. And if I removed all of that? I wouldn’t just rid myself of the pain, I’d lose the progress too.

This idea became especially clear last week, when I flew home for my grandmother’s funeral. She passed away just shy of 96 years old.

Ninety-six years… Let that sink in for a moment.

That’s nearly a century of living. A lifetime of joys, heartbreaks, laughter, loss, and love. Of watching the world change again and again, and still showing up for the people she loved. She raised a family, watched her children become parents, and even watched many of her children’s children become parents as well. The room was filled with generations of people who are here today because of the life she had created together with Grandpa.

Of course she had to have made mistakes. Anyone who lives that long is bound to. But those missteps didn’t take away from her, they made her who she was in the end. If she had gone back and corrected everything she once got wrong, she wouldn’t have become the woman we stood in that church to honor. We wouldn’t be mourning the loss of who she was. Because she simply wouldn’t have been her.

And that got me thinking: What if I live that long? What if I’m lucky enough to see 96? The number of mistakes I’ll make between now and then will be impossible to count. Honestly, it already feels that way and I’m only 32… A child in comparison…

As I consider that, I can’t help but think maybe we’re not racing the clock as much as we’ve been led to believe. Maybe the game of life isn’t about “getting it right” as quickly as possible like I’ve thought many times.

Maybe it’s about staying in it. Through the mess, the missteps, the moments that make you question everything, until the bigger picture reveals itself.

I mean let’s be honest, we all love a comeback story, but we forget that every comeback starts with a fall. So when we obsess over our regrets, when we wish we could go back and rewrite the past, we miss the point entirely. The lessons are the point. The pain has purpose.

The mistakes you made last year, or ten years ago, don’t invalidate your growth. They’re the reason you’ve grown at all.

So I’m learning more and more to look at this job not with resentment, but with acceptance. Maybe I needed to come back. Maybe I needed this space to reflect. Maybe this chapter is exactly where I need to be… Perhaps not forever, but for now at the very least.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the way we should all look at our mistakes. Not as regrets. But as a redirection. An adjusting of the sails for the long and beautiful life that lies ahead.

Because I hope when your time comes - and may it be long and rich and full like my grandma’s - you look back and smile at the entire ride. Not just the peaks, but the valleys too. Not just the wins, but the detours that taught you something worth knowing.

Because if we erased all the messiness, we wouldn’t just lose the mistakes.

We’d lose ourselves.

Until next week,

Your friend from the wilderness,

Michael “Adjuster Of The Sails” Mitchell

Rest in peace Grandma. You will continue to be loved and missed by many. You’re in good company up there. Please give a hug to Dad, Grandpa, and Zach for me. I love you.