I've spent an embarrassing amount of time comparing myself to a woman who doesn't exist.
She looks exactly like me, except she's accomplished everything I once dreamed of doing. She took the chances I was afraid to take, trusted herself when it mattered, and never considered that she might not be good enough. I've decided she's extraordinary, which is a remarkable amount of admiration to have for somebody I've never met.
There's a saying that the definition of hell is meeting the person you could have become. I used to find that devastating. Now I'm not so sure. Why do we automatically assume we'd be disappointed in ourselves?
What I envy about that other woman isn't necessarily her accomplishments. It's how she felt about herself before she'd accomplished anything. She believed she could do extraordinary things, so she went after them. She didn't require anyone's permission or a guarantee that everything would work out. The possibility of failure wasn't enough to frighten her away from trying.
She wasn't waiting to become somebody worth believing in. She already knew she was.
When I was younger, I had a fairly detailed picture of how my life would turn out, which is remarkable considering how little I knew about living one. Some plans worked beautifully. Others went absolutely nowhere. There are opportunities I wish I'd pursued and decisions I'd gladly send back for a refund.
Some of the happiest parts of my life, however, were things I never thought to wish for.
I wonder how often we overlook that when we start imagining what might have been. We give our alternate selves wonderful careers, fascinating adventures, and enviable lives, conveniently forgetting that every choice comes with something we must leave behind.
Regret is a terrible biographer. It leaves out so much of what made a life worth living.
I love my life. Not every chapter has been happy, and I wouldn't pretend otherwise. But I've loved people I cannot imagine living without, laughed at things nobody else would find remotely funny, and discovered pleasures that would have astonished the girl I used to be.
I wouldn't trade any of that for an imaginary version of success.
What a strange thing it would be to spend your life wishing away the very experiences that made you who you are.
Perhaps you understand. Maybe there's a career you never pursued, a dream you quietly abandoned, or something you were certain you'd have accomplished by now. Perhaps you look around and realize that although you're happy, your life bears very little resemblance to the one you once imagined.
Those feelings aren't mutually exclusive. You can wonder what might have been without wishing away what is.
Your life doesn't have to turn out the way you imagined for you to love the person you've become.
I think that's something many of us struggle to understand. We keep placing conditions on our own happiness, promising ourselves we'll feel better when we've accomplished more, become more confident, changed something about our appearance, or finally figured out whatever it is everybody else seems to know.
Then we reach one of those destinations and promptly invent another.
It's exhausting, spending your entire life trying to qualify for your own affection.
If someone I loved told me she was disappointed in herself, I wouldn't remind her of every wrong turn. I'd tell her what I admired about her, how much she meant to me, and why I thought she still had wonderful things ahead. I'd want her to recognize the qualities she couldn't seem to see in herself.
I've sometimes been remarkably stingy with that same generosity when it comes to me.
I don't have to approve of every mistake I've made to love the woman who made it. I can wish I'd been braver without regretting the life that followed. I can admit that certain dreams never came true without deciding that somehow makes everything else less wonderful.
There is a difference between wanting more from your life and believing you are less because you haven't achieved it.
I still have ambitions, and I hope I always will. There are stories I want to write, places I want to visit, and things I'd love to try even if I turn out to be absolutely terrible at them. I want to keep discovering what else might be possible, but I don't want another accomplishment to become the price of admission to my own happiness.
If I ever meet that other woman, I hope we'll have a wonderful conversation. I'd like to hear about the chances she took, the places she's been, and everything she discovered along the way. Perhaps she'll have a few regrets of her own. I imagine she'll want to hear about my life, too.
She might even be a little envious of mine.
What would truly break my heart is reaching the end of this life and realizing I'd spent so much of it admiring someone imaginary that I never learned to appreciate the person who actually lived it.
I'm beginning to understand that loving yourself isn't a reward for finally getting everything right. It's something you deserve through every wrong turn, unfinished dream, unexpected happiness, and wonderful possibility still ahead.
Perhaps the love we've been searching for has been much closer than we realized.
Maybe God gave us somebody to love the moment He made us.
Spicy Green Chicken Enchiladas
Seasoned chicken breasts, soft flour tortillas, Monterey Jack and a vibrant cilantro-green chile sauce. Reserved uncooked sauce gives the finished enchiladas a fresh, bright finish.
Ingredients
For the Chicken
- 1½ teaspoons minced garlic
- 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
- 4 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
- 2 teaspoons ground cumin
- 2 teaspoons dried oregano
- ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1½ pounds), pounded to an even thickness
- ¾ teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
For the Green Sauce
- 1 cup medium or hot salsa verde
- 1 (4-ounce) can diced green chiles, drained
- 1 jalapeño, stemmed and chopped; add ½–1 serrano for more heat, if desired
- ½ cup packed fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems
- 1 garlic clove
- ¼ teaspoon ground cumin
- 2 tablespoons sour cream
- 1–2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
- Up to ¼ cup chicken broth, only if needed to thin
- Kosher salt, to taste
For Assembly
- 6 small flour tortillas
- 1 (4-ounce) can diced green chiles, drained
- 8 ounces Monterey Jack, freshly shredded (about 2 cups)
- Olive oil, for greasing the 8 × 10-inch baking dish
- Finely shredded romaine lettuce, diced tomatoes, thinly sliced jalapeños, diced ripe avocado, fresh cilantro, and sour cream, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat oven to 400°F. Mix the garlic, onion, cilantro, cumin, oregano, pepper, olive oil and salt. Coat the chicken breasts evenly. Arrange in a lightly greased baking dish or on a rimmed sheet pan.
- Bake until the chicken reaches 165°F in the thickest part, checking early if thinly pounded; approximately 20–30 minutes for thicker breasts, less for thin cutlets. Rest 5 minutes, then shred with the cooked onion mixture.
- Blend all green sauce ingredients together at once, beginning without the optional broth. Taste for salt and heat. Do not simmer. Refrigerate ⅓ cup of the sauce immediately for finishing after baking.
- Combine shredded chicken with the second can of green chiles, ¾ cup of the Monterey Jack and ¼ cup of the remaining sauce. Toss until moist.
- Reduce oven to 375°F. Lightly grease an 8 × 10-inch baking dish and spread a few tablespoons of sauce on the bottom. Divide chicken filling among six flour tortillas, roll and arrange seam-side down. Do not fry the tortillas.
- Pour the remaining baking sauce over the enchiladas and scatter the remaining cheese on top, using the entire 8-ounce block. Bake uncovered about 20–25 minutes, until hot and bubbling and browned irregularly.
- Rest 5 minutes, then spoon the reserved ⅓ cup of fresh green sauce over the enchiladas. Serve with lettuce, tomatoes, jalapeños, avocado, cilantro and sour cream.
Storage & Kitchen Notes
Heat: The tested version was hot. Use jalapeño alone for less heat; serrano is an optional additional kick.
The fresh finishing sauce contains uncooked garlic and chile. Keep refrigerated until serving, and do not use any sauce that has touched raw chicken.
Chicken thickness controls the cooking time: ¼-inch cutlets will cook much faster than 20–30 minutes. Use a thermometer rather than time alone.
Serves 4 | Makes 6 enchiladas
Tex-Mex Caviar with Hominy
A smaller-batch, scoopable adaptation of Tailgate Redneck Caviar, with crunchy peppers, sweet shoepeg corn, tender hominy and a punchy Worcestershire-lime vinaigrette. Serve with Tostitos.
Ingredients
- 1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and thoroughly drained
- 1 (11-ounce) can shoepeg corn, drained
- ¾ cup canned white hominy, rinsed and thoroughly drained
- ½ cup finely diced red onion
- 1 whole red bell pepper, finely diced
- 1½–2 jalapeños, finely chopped; seed to moderate heat
- 1 small garlic clove, minced
- ½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
- For the Vinaigrette
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
- 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
- 2–3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce, to taste
- 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
- ¼ teaspoon ground cumin
- ½ teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
- ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- Tostitos tortilla chips, and lime wedges, for serving
Instructions
- Rinse the black beans and hominy, drain the shoepeg corn, and allow all three to drain thoroughly so the dressing will not be diluted.
- In a serving bowl, combine the beans, corn, hominy, red onion, bell pepper, jalapeños and garlic.
- Whisk the olive oil, lime juice, white wine vinegar, 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce, balsamic vinegar, cumin, salt and black pepper.
- Pour the vinaigrette over the vegetables and toss gently. Cover and refrigerate at least 30 minutes.
- Fold in the cilantro before serving. Taste with a Tostitos chip, adding up to 1 more tablespoon Worcestershire sauce and adjusting salt or lime as needed.
Storage & Kitchen Notes
This recipe intentionally contains no black-eyed peas.
The full red pepper, generous red onion and 1½–2 jalapeños reflect the adjustments made during testing.
The exact amount of Worcestershire within the 2–3 tablespoon range remains a taste adjustment. Refrigerate leftovers promptly.
Serves 6–8 as a dip
