Never Say Never—The Things We Swore We’d Never Do (And Totally Did)

We've all put our foot in our mouth more times than we'd like to admit. It's part of being human. We evolve, we grow, we learn. What served us once might not serve us anymore. And the truth is… you don't know until you know.

But for some reason, we cling to our past declarations like they're written in stone. Like changing our mind means we were wrong or weak or somehow less than. But what if it just means we're growing? What if evolving is the whole point?

Take us, for example. We distinctly remember judging our sister for feeding her kids Pizza Pops while they sat in front of Caillou. We were horrified. We told her, with the self-righteous confidence only teenagers can have, that if you choose to have kids, you should actually take care of them.

We were 18 and 20. We had no clue about exhaustion, financial constraints, or the never-ending cycle of keeping tiny humans alive. We were out here worrying about making $15 at our telemarketing job so we could go to the bar that night, while she was just trying to survive motherhood.

Fast forward to now? Let's just say our kids have eaten their fair share of frozen, microwavable, definitely-not-organic meals. And we have fully retracted every ounce of judgment we ever passed.

Or how about this classic: "My kids will NEVER have cell phones. I can't believe parents allow this!"

Yeah… guess whose teenagers totally have cell phones now? Because guess what? Kids have practices, after-school activities, and social lives that require coordination. And sometimes, knowing they can text you when they need something brings more peace of mind than sticking to an old belief just to say you never changed your mind.

And remember our strong opinions about bedtimes? "Why are you rushing to put your kids to bed at 7:30? If you didn't want to spend time with them, why even have kids?"

Oh, the naivety. If only we knew then what we know now. After experiencing the pure chaos of a day with overtired children, we became absolute bedtime evangelists. That sacred evening quiet after they were tucked in wasn't about avoiding our kids—it was about preserving our sanity so we could actually be present the next day. Those two hours of peace before we collapsed ourselves? That wasn't selfishness—that was survival.

Now that our kids are older, bedtimes have shifted later, and there's a different kind of magic happening. Those late-night conversations when they finally open up about their day, their worries, their dreams—we treasure those moments. But some nights? We'd be lying if we said we didn't occasionally miss those early tuck-ins and the guaranteed quiet time they brought. Parenting really is just a series of phases, each with their own challenges and joys.

We've all said things we regret. The important part? Taking accountability. Owning the fact that we didn't know what we didn't know. Learning. Growing. Adjusting.

This is exactly why so many friendships don't last a lifetime. The friends who were perfect for our party days might not be the ones who understand our parenting struggles. The childhood friends who knew us when we had nothing might not connect with who we've become after success. That doesn't mean we didn't love those people or that they didn't matter deeply. It just means we've changed—sometimes together, sometimes apart—and that's not just okay, it's natural.

If we can accept this truth about friendships, why are we so afraid to apply it to other areas of our lives? Why do we hesitate to try new things, to move, to quit the job we hate, or to change our mind about what we want? We get so caught up in the idea that every decision has to be permanent, like once we choose something, we're stuck with it forever. But who says it has to be that way?

If you want to switch careers, do it. If you want to try a new diet, go ahead. Thinking about chopping all your hair off? Why not? If you've always dreamed about moving away, what's stopping you?

We hold ourselves hostage to old ideas of who we used to be, even when we've outgrown them. And for what? To avoid admitting we've changed? Staying the same just to prove a point isn't growth; it's fear.

Life is forever changing. Just look at nature—seasons shift, rivers carve new paths, forests regrow after fires. Nothing in the natural world remains static, so why do we expect ourselves to? We are as much a part of this world as the trees that shed their leaves in fall only to grow new ones in spring. Change isn't just inevitable; it's essential.

But let's be honest—change is uncomfortable. Deeply, profoundly uncomfortable. There's a reason we resist it, why we white-knuckle our way through life clinging to what's familiar. Change means stepping into uncertainty. It means admitting we don't have all the answers. It means being vulnerable.

We fear the discomfort more than we fear staying stuck. But what if the discomfort is where the growth happens? What if that stomach-dropping feeling of uncertainty is actually the sensation of becoming more fully ourselves?

Growth and change lead us to better versions of ourselves. We should welcome and embrace them, not resist them. Because staying the same just for the sake of it? That's the real mistake.