Regrets?

Regret is an interesting concept. We generally use it when thinking about stupid decisions we made, harmful acts we performed, or positive acts we should’ve done but didn’t. We also use it trivially, like in being invited to a gathering and the invitation says, “Regrets only.” That usage, however, could be problematic for recipients if they didn’t want to attend the soiree in the first place. Should they lie and say they regret not being able to make it? Such is the quandary we humans can find ourselves in.

For some reason, I consider regret to be a cousin of regression. Etymology wise, that’s apparently not the case since the roots of the two words are distinct from one another. But they both imply a negative. Regression certainly does that, and while regret sometimes is used in a future reference such as not being able to do something or go somewhere, it’s usually expressed within a backward looking context.

Feeling regret could be directed at not having lived your life as fully as possible, having given so much attention to others that it interfered with you moving forward and doing good things for yourself, or having chosen to follow a professional or life path where your heart wasn’t. You might then feel stuck with no way out. If so and you fail to extricate yourself from it, when old age arrives, which invariably does if you stick around long enough, you’ll understand in stark terms what F. Scott Fitzgerald means in The Last Tycoon when he wrote that there are no second acts in American life.

Fitzgerald, though, was writing about the uber-wealthy, those who lead shallow, empty lives, since all they know is how to make piles of money and how to gain and wield power. The rest of us, those of us not hellbent on becoming the GOAT—the Greatest Of All Time—know that. We simply try our best to live a good and meaningful life as we roll and, at times, bumble through it.

Note that I wrote “good,” and not perfect, for we’re all flawed creatures prone to do dumb stuff. When we did, those poor decisions might’ve done harm to others or to ourselves. Nicely put, they neither were in our best interests nor served us or others well. Which might make you think that you could’ve done better if only you had used your head, behaved better, or gotten off your duff and…?

But could you have? Maybe, but then again, maybe not. It was where you were at that point in time and stage of life, so you were neither privy to the experience and good sense you’ve amassed over the decades nor the font of wisdom you’ve become. And just maybe you were caught in a downward spiral due to a mental health issue or a crisis that you got swept up in.

I believe those who have led ethical lives, albeit with occasional lapses, often judge themselves too harshly for past failings. It’s like how some judge historical characters by today’s standards. Not only that was then and this is now for them, it’s true for you. If you’re one prone to beat yourself up over stuff that’s long in the past, consider giving yourself a little space and a dose of self-compassion. Even the Buddha lived the life of a benighted nabob before he set forth on his path to enlightenment.

In “My Way,” written by Paul Anka, Frank Sinatra sings about facing the final curtain. That makes sense given his profession, but a curtain-closing could symbolically work for you if you consider it in context of Shakespeare’s line about the world being a stage and each of us being an actor playing a part. But no matter how you see your exit, it’s not unusual to look back, survey your life, and, in so doing, express regrets and rue that you didn’t do better.

Surveys show that when seniors do a scan of their lives, no one wishes they had worked harder and spent more time doing chores like vacuuming, mowing, and the like. The most regretted choices were not spending more quality time with those they love along with not traveling, reading, and pursuing their creative talents more.

As cold as it might seem, I liken our Earth time to a product’s shelf life. Each of us has an expiration date. If you’re reading this, it’s obvious yours hasn’t arrived yet. And contrary to Fitzgerald’s assertion, there can be second acts for those who are not one-trick ponies. So with that in mind, one pledge you should make—and keep—hereon: No more regrets.