When you often wake up in the middle of the night, you tend to develop a routine. Mine usually involves randomly scrolling through social media. That is how I came across one of those posts that asks an inane question that hundreds of people feel the need to answer.

Usually, I just scroll past such posts without giving them a second thought. But on this particular 3:00 AM perusal of social media, I actually stopped to read people’s answers. I’m not sure why. The question wasn’t particularly tantalizing, and the answers were fairly predictable. In fact, approximately 90% of the responses to the question “what is one thing you had in high school that you wish you still had?” were the same. Most people said either “my parents” or “my figure/former body.”

I wasn’t even remotely tempted to type my own answer, but the question got me thinking. Is there anything I had in high school that I wish I still had? My answer was a resounding “no.”

I say that as someone who is extremely fortunate. I still have my 89 year-old father and my 84 year-old mother. As for the body I used to have? I didn’t appreciate it then anyway. Even though I weighed significantly less, I was still comparing myself to other females, complaining that I was fat and worrying that my waist was too thick, my hips too wide and my butt too flat. I may have been skinnier, had smoother skin, and sported a lot fewer scars, but I wasn’t happier.

I wouldn’t trade all my experiences, good and bad, that have etched themselves into my face as wrinkles. You couldn’t pay me to take back my teenage body if that meant I never experienced the joy of giving birth to my two children. And I truly love all of my scars because they make for good conversation starters. I don’t want my teenage body back anymore than I want to be a teenager again. I’ve quite literally outgrown it.

As I was scrolling through people’s wistful responses to the question about what they wish they had from high school, my 3:00 AM brain realized how stupid that question was. It focused on the negative.

Instead, a better, and much more interesting, question would have been, “What is one thing you have now that you wish you had in high school?” I have hundreds of answers to that: self-assurance, an ability to laugh at myself, the confidence to call people out when they are wrong, a much greater acceptance of other people, a group of friends whose beliefs align with mine, a strong sense of self, the ability to trust my gut, perspective about what is truly important, the ability to stand up for what I believe, the knowledge that other people’s opinions of me don’t matter, the confidence to walk away from negative situations, and so much more.

A question about what we have and what we can share is always healthier and less anxiety provoking than one about what we miss or want.

I fell asleep pondering this, but I was still thinking about it when I woke up the next day with my father’s voice echoing in my head. As a little girl, Dad would send me to bed with the message, “The best way to fall asleep isn’t to count sheep. It’s to count your blessings.”

He was absolutely correct.