Regret: A Stumbling Block or Stepping Stone?
Some people claim to have no regrets; others are so tormented by regret that the only way to reconcile it is to rewrite history. My paternal grandmother comes to mind, and as she is no longer with us, I am free to ponder. I witnessed, no, lived through, how desperately she needed to rewrite the history of my father’s crimes. Was she tortured by regret? I can only speculate, but from my perspective, she shouldn’t have been — she wasn’t responsible for his choices — but it took becoming a mother myself to understand how unequivocally we hold ourselves to account even when it doesn’t make sense, and hence often find ourselves hijacked by the past, meticulously combing through every tiny detail, imagining alternative trajectories — if only.
It made me wonder where I stand on regret. I’m not really talking about if only(s). I’m more interested in the regret that stems from taking account, making sense of, and untangling those things that just aren’t quite right. Such moments of taking account are often when I encounter a thing that triggers lament.
Regret, the official definition: sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one’s control or power to repair.
Beyond one’s control would suggest that the thing was bigger than us; beyond one’s power to repair suggests that it may have been in our power at some point, but that point has passed, and therefore, the thing has been cemented into history. Those are the things I’m talking about. One could argue that seeing as how they’ve passed, and it is beyond our power to repair them, it is futile to wallow there, and yes, wallowing is generally accepted as counterproductive, but I’m not so sure that regret is.
Is a life well lived, one that is lived without regret? Is regret a weakness or a crutch? Does embracing regret make me less evolved? Is it one of those things that should be tucked away in the shame closet? Or is it a motivator, a reminder of when something went terribly off the rails, an inspiration to reimagine the potential of current and future choices?
In my experience, regret isn’t set in stone. There are regrets that I’ve been burdened by in the past that no longer haunt me and new ones that I never expected that have abruptly chosen to make an entrance. Some regrets cling to me despite all logic, and others I have learned to brush aside as I sharpen my ability to discern between the circumstances beyond my control and those which I have no power to repair. But I’m also curious about the idea of simply having no regret. Is committing to the narrative of no regrets a form of denial, or is it acceptance, an acknowledgment of the role that every decision and experience plays in making us who we are? Is living a life without regret some sort of Zen way of accepting that we can’t change the past?
I am far from naïve; I know we cannot change the past, but I’ll be damned if I don’t outgrow it.
My most persistent regret is rooted in my lack of trust in myself and my intuition, the years of acquiescing because I completely and faithfully believed that everyone else knew better than I. After all, I was flawed — damaged — there was no way my instincts could be relied on. As it turned out, it was the other way around and there is nothing that can be done about that now, but it is the deep feeling of regret and the heartbreak attached to it that has driven me to step into the wisdom of me.
That is the value of regret in my life. Not a thing to wallow in, but one to be motivated by.
Like most things in life, I’m not so sure that regret can be neatly tucked under one absolute. It is an emotion, and its individuality will have a profound effect on whether, or how one chooses to embrace it. I am certain I will continue to mull over the implications of allowing regret to set up a little corner in the home of my lived experience. I know I will continue to listen when it has something to say, but I am also terribly curious about how it differs from person to person.
I always appreciate commentary in response to my essays, but this time, I am especially eager for reader conversation around this topic, as I find it particularly intriguing. Please share your thoughts because I’ve drawn no conclusions here — it is an in-progress sort of pondering. Has regret been debilitating or motivating? Has it given birth to positive evolution, or is it a waste of energy? Do you find it a guiding factor or a burdensome parasite? Is it a tool that you utilize with pride, or is it one hidden from view?
