My relationship to this question has been ever-evolving. As far as I can remember, my first brush with it came in high school, with a bold invective to “live life without regrets!” As a chronic overachiever, I already felt at the tender age of 14 or 15 a searing sense of just how behind I was. The idea of living without regret seemed both impossible and freeing. 

I pretended to adopt this attitude for a while, but laissez-faire is simply not my bag. After being blacklisted from performing by a professor, and unable to secure a job, I slunk back home post-graduate school and lived in a one-room cabin. There, sans cell phone service, I realized that quiet morning mists and fifty minute drives to town are the perfect places to wallow. I spent the next three years regretting.

Years of Regret

I regretted not having the gumption to move to New York. I regretted studying opera instead of musical theatre. I regretted studying singing instead of acting. I regretted not sticking to my French studies (that one’s still true). I regretted not practicing piano more (less so). I regretted having apparently no marketable skills worthy of full-time employment. I regretted my deep ambivalence towards exercise. I regretted my juvenile relationship to vegetables. I regretted never sticking to dance lessons.

Amidst this swamp of unbelievable depression and self-pity, I made an unshakable decision: I would not, under any circumstances, regret my choice to get a masters degree in the arts. Despite the Dave Ramseys of the world ready to pounce on me and my “useless” degree, I established a little diamond core of self-respect. I love the arts and performing; I always have. I wanted desperately remain immersed in the world, and so I studied music in college and graduate school. Regardless of where life takes me, I will never regret those 6 years of focused artistic pursuit (though I may regret the debt).

Moving On

Thanks to a variety of factors (more money, more auditions, a great husband, pharmaceuticals), I have forgiven my past self for her regrets. She wasn’t a pathetic loser, she was a deeply feeling person with nowhere to direct her sadness but inward. I’ve mostly moved beyond such myopia, and am actively working towards intentional life choices rather than opening the window to regret. 

Recently, Ann Patchett wrote this lovely essay for the New York Times detailing her regret over starting her email account (sorry-not-sorry for spoiling the title). As someone who never had the luxury to decide whether or not I needed an email address, I cannot accurately reflect on whether or not I regret its influence in my life. However, the essay got me thinking: now that I am past the wallowing, what do I regret?

Naming Regrets

I have a very hard time separating what I truly regret from the criticism I received as a result of ADHD. I’ve come to terms with the fact that making habits is probably going to be a struggle for the rest of my life. I know what feels like wasted potential zinging around my brain is simply not accessible to me all the time, and that sometimes I just gotta let it buzz around up there. Additionally, I also know that my brain doesn’t have enough dopamine, so I naturally gravitate towards reward-seeking behavior that’s not always super healthy or productive. So while I could regret all the habits I didn’t form or stupid crap I bought, I don’t. It feels good to look back and know I have enough self-compassion to let those regrets go.

Of course, I’m not perfect. As I’ve aged, I mostly regret how I’ve treated people; the social and interpersonal missteps I’ve made. There’s the time my boss found my resignation letter on the computer before I could give it to her because I printed it out at work. My sisters and I got into some pretty gnarly fights growing up. I’m sure I was terrible in high school or middle school at some point, but I’ve buried it in a pile of teenage angst.

I wish I were braver about standing up for what I believe in. Despite my strongly-held opinions, it takes a lot for me to open up to people about them unless I’m 100% sure of how they feel. I got burned by a lot of Facebook fights with my parents’ friends in college, and now I shy away from it. I wish I volunteered more. It feels selfish to stuff my calendar with activities when I know I could throw in an afternoon at a humane society or homeless shelter just as easily.

Looking Forward

Ultimately, my aim is not to live without regret. Frankly, I think a life sans regret denotes a likely sociopath. By gathering my regrets, it helps me take stock of how far I still want to go. It helps me take a look at my life, what I prioritize and why. I want to be a better person tomorrow than I was today. How does questioning my past decisions help the world around me? In general, it doesn’t. I want to look forward. I want to look at what’s going on right now.

Do you regret anything?