On regret

As I approached the age of 35, I made an earnest effort to reflect on the parts of my life I am most grateful for, and to consider how differently I have turned out from the way I imagined myself when I was a girl. With much relief, I concluded that life has been a cornucopia of people and experiences that have brought profound joy and astonishment. But I also have regrets…deep, weighty errors of judgment that haunt me still. Where do they fall on the scale of self-reflection?

There’s a part of me that would like to subscribe to the idea that there should be no regrets in life. The truth is, I don’t think it’s possible. Sure, I can metaphorically bundle my regrets, put them in a box adorned with beautiful wrapping paper, and call it a gift: “Here’s your opportunity to turn something terrible into a positive life lesson!”…but deep down, I know that once I have stripped away the fancy packaging, I will still be left with something I don’t want. The contents of that box will be just as ugly on second glance as it was the first. 

No, regret is inevitable. Certain mistakes cannot be corrected. Missed opportunities can rarely be subsequently seized. I think it’s ok to grieve those parts of life. The challenge for me is not to linger on loss. On a cognitive level, I know that I cannot recapture wasted time, that the minutes I spend counting lost minutes will bankrupt my future. Regret begets regret. But sometimes the decisions we make, the paths we choose lead us to discover parts of ourselves that do not coexist peacefully with the parts of ourselves we love. What, then?

I think the answer is to make an affirmative choice to acknowledge the things I regret, make amends for things that I can, and accept responsibility– even unpleasant truths and consequences – for everything else. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I need to remember when I am faced with the choice between two paths, to pick the one with the least regrets.